One thing about Jack, he was the most anti-social person I'd ever met. He was quiet and brooding, like a secret agent who'd failed on his last mission and was plotting some sort of dastardly revenge.
Stalling, I turned and gave the door behind me a long, worried look.Why, oh why, had I chosen this particular moment to dash out for a cup of coffee?
As far as I could tell, the door wasn't even locked.
The sound of throat-clearing made me turn once again toward the girls. As I did, the brunette gave me the squinty-eye and said, "I think I know what's going on here."
I was gladsomebodydid. "Oh yeah? What?"
"You want him all for yourself."
Huh?Her statement was beyond insane. And besides, Jack wasn't theonlycelebrity in the lounge. For allsheknew, I could be working for any one of them.
Or, I could be working for the convention center. The point is, she was assuming far too much.
I forced a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous."
Her gaze zoomed in on the oversized paperback that I held in my hand. She pointed. "So what's that?"
I glanced down. It was a copy of "Swordplay," Jack's first bestseller. It was the book that had made him a household name, not just here in the U.S., but also globally.
I'd purchased the book years ago. It was a special edition, published before the movies had even come out. Unlike recent editions,mybook had the original cover, which made it a collector's item, at least the wayIsaw it.
But I hadn't brought along the book as a trophy. I'd brought it to help kill time during flights and what-not. And, with Jack being so unsociable, it was a good thing I had.
I replied, "It's a book, obviously."
"It's not justabook," she said. "It'shisbook. You got it signed, didn't you?"
Actually, I hadn't.But the fangirl part of me was seriously tempted. Probably I would've asked for his signature already, if only Jack weren't acting so ominous lately.
I said, "No I didn't."
The two girls exchanged a look. This time, it was the blonde – aka Darbie – who spoke up. "Oh yeah? Prove it."
I glanced down at the book. "Like, what? You want me toshowyou that it's not signed?"
"You bet your ass I do." Darbie held out her hand, palm up. "Now fork it over."
I drew back. The book was mine, and I had no intention of giving it up. Plus, her attitude hardly inspired trust. So instead, I lifted the book between us and rifled its opening pages. Forcing a smile, I said, "See? No signature here."
"I don't believe you," she said and then – what the hell? – made a mad grab for the book. Her hands closed around the upper half, and she gave the entire book a hard yank.
I refused to let go. "Stop that!" NowIwas holding on with both hands, too.
Darbie gave another tug. "No!"
I tugged back. "You can't have it!"
"Oh yeah?" she said with another tug. "Then you can't either!"
I tugged again. "But it's my book!"
"Says you!"
By now, the guys on the outskirts had sidled closer to watch the commotion. Some of them were dressed in medieval costumes, obviously inspired by Jack's books – or the related movies.
As far as the specifics, I didn't know. And I didn't care. AllIknew was that the book was mine, and Iwasn'tletting go.
