Just a couple of days later, I was proven terribly right – butnotfor the reasons I'd been anticipating.
Chapter 22
Becka
"I'm really sorry," I said for the third time. "But I'm not lying. You can't go in."
The brunette frowned. "But why not?" She was tall and leggy, just like her companion – an equally attractive blonde who was standing by her side. They were both dressed in skin-tight sparkly tank tops – one red and one purple – along with identical black miniskirts and high strappy sandals.
The skirts were so short, I just prayed that neither one of them bent over any time soon, especially considering the number of guys who were ogling them from the sidelines.
As for myself, I was wearing a long navy skirt, my favorite white chiffon blouse, and low navy pumps. Compared to the girls in front of me, I felt positively frumpy.
"Because," I told her, "it's a private lounge. And Mister Ward is, um, lounging."
This was only half true. The lounge wasn't open to the public, but he wasn't quite lounging. He was scribbling in his black notebook again, using that same pencil – now marred with bite marks along the top.
The last time I'd seen him, just five minutes earlier, he'd been doing more stabbing than scribbling, as if the pencil were his weapon of choice and the notebook had done something to personally offend him.
From what I could tell, he wasnotin a good mood.
We were at a hotel and convention center in downtown Atlanta. The publisher had scheduled Jack to appear here for the next three days as part of a giant comic book expo.
At first glance, the event had seemed a strange venue for a book signing, given the fact that Jack wrote sprawling epics with no pictures whatsoever.
But then, I saw the full program. The expo also featured a few stars from the movies that had been adapted from his books – so I guess I could see the connection.
What Icouldn’tsee was why the door to the V.I.P. lounge wasn't being guarded. There'd been a security guard earlier, when we'd arrived maybe a half-hour ago.
Where on Earth was the guard now?I glanced around, but saw no sign of him.
As for the lounge itself, it was strictly off-limits to regular attendees. Inside the lounge were a few of the aforementioned movie stars, along with other famous writers and artists – none of whom I knew personally.
The lounge also contained its share of lowly assistants, me included. At the moment, I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to be doing, but Ididknow there'd be hell to pay if I moved aside and admitted the girls into Jack's private sanctuary.
After all, I didn't want it to bemesobbing on the phone the next time around.
The brunette gave me a desperate smile. "But we can help."
I wasn't following. "Help with what?"
Her smile turned sly. "Well, you said he's lounging, right? We can help him do that. You know, relax." She looked to her companion and said, "Isn't that right, Darbie?"
The blonde named Darbie gave an enthusiastic nod. "Oh sure," she gushed. "We're great at that." She licked her glossy upper lip and said, "We knowallthe tricks."
I had no doubt ofthat.
I was still trying to come up with a decent response when the brunette said, "So, how comeyou'reallowed inside?"
I hesitated.Should I tell them? Or not?
I hadn't mentioned who I worked for. A few minutes earlier, I'd simply had the unfortunate timing to be comingoutjust as they were preparing to sneakin.
When I'd politely informed them that the lounge wasn't open to the public, they'd asked for Jack personally and suggested that I go find him. When I'd refused as nicely as I could, they'd renewed their efforts to be let inside.
Thatwasn'tgoing to happen.
And why?It was because I knew better. That's why.
