Alexlooked up at Goose through his blue-rimmed glasses like he had just sprouted asecond head. “Idunno,” he answered with a shrug.
“Oh,come on, buddy. Remember? What did Daddy say before?”
Alexshrugged. “Idunno, Daddy. I no remember.”
Goosesighed. “You wanted to tell Mommy to tell her weird friends that Daddy isn’tgonnamodel for their book covers. Remember?”
Ilaughed as Alex, completely disinterested, found the toy car he had leftbeneath my table earlier.
“Myfriends aren’t weird,” I protested. “It’s not their fault you’d be perfect fortheir mountain men books.”
“Whatthe hell are mountain men? Is that aHills Have Eyes,Deliverancekind of thing?”
“Oh,my God,” I laughed, nearly choking on my coffee, then shaking my head. “No,they’re like—”
“Youknow what? I don’t even want to know.”
“Fine.Just feel complimented. They wouldn’t ask if you weren’t hot.”
“Well,at least tell them to keep their hands off the merchandise,” he grumbled,rubbing his bicep. “I’m not some piece of meat they can fondle whenever theywant. I have feelings, too, you know.”
Ireached out to pat his bearded cheek. “I’ll pass along the—”
“Sorry,”a rich, deep voice said from across the table, drawing my attention. “I don’tmean to interrupt, but—”
“You’reB. Davis,” I interjected in the most humiliating display of being star struck,as I stood abruptly from my chair and nearly knocked it over.
Theinfamous fantasy author stood on the other side of my table, wearing a leatherjacket and an award-winning smile. He was almost something of a dream, had Inot known for certain this was real. And what was even more startling was that,in his hands, was one of my books.
“So,you know who I am,” he replied, still grinning.
“Oh,my God,” I gushed. “Of course, I know who you are. You’re … you’repractically my hero. I have been reading your books since—”
“Babe,”Goose cut me off gently. “Breathe.”
B.Davis laughed coolly and replied, “Well, I’m honored that you would be a fan ofmy work, whenyouwrotethis.” He laid the book on the table, andI read the title of my most personal book,Scars & Silver Linings.“I read this with my wife, and we were both blown away.”
Iblinked up at him—the man was huge—and said, “I … I don’t know what to say.”
“Youdon’t have to say anything,” he replied, smiling gently. “But can you write itout to Holly and Brandon? I’d really appreciate it.”
Inodded in a broken, jittering sort of way and grabbed for my Sharpie with shakyfingers. “Sure, Mr.Dav—”
“Hey,we’re peers,” he said, cutting me off with a gentle tone. “I’ll call you Kenny,and you call me Brandon. Okay?”
Inodded, hoping I never woke up from this dream. “O-okay, Brandon.”
Isigned his book and handed it back, wishing I knew what to say to keep himthere longer. To keep him talking. To make him my best friend. But I wasn’tthat cool, and he tucked the book I wrote about a girl named Kenny who walkedinto a bar and met a guy named Goose under his arm.
Then,he said, “Thanks a lot. I’ll see you around.”
“S-Sure,”I replied, nodding awkwardly.
“Knockon my door the next time you’re in town visiting your parents. I’d love to chatcraft with you.”
Stunned,I asked, “How did you know my parents live by you?” And with blushing cheeks,he replied, “I might’ve gotten wind from my agent that Kenny Wright grew up inthe area, and I might’ve gotten a little excited about it.”
Withthat, he wished me a successful signing and walked away, clutching my bookbeneath his arm. When he was no longer in my sights, I turned to my husband andwith mouth gaping, asked him what the hell had just happened.
