“Of course I do. And of course I pay attention to everything about you.” He gave me a sideways glance that, thanks to a trick of the light filtering through the trees and my ever-willing libido, almost lookedflirtatious.
I cleared my throat and wandered into something that Iknewwould be a minefield, but at least one I was familiar with. “I don’t think that’s true. If you listened to me, you’d read more JDPritchard.”
Daniel groaned. “This again?Seriously?”
“Seriously, what? I haven’t brought him up formonths.”
“I hoped that meant you’d forgotten heexisted.”
“He’s my favorite author!” I reminded him, outraged. “I know you have some kind of personal hate-on for him because you met him in real life, but if you’d just try to be openminded and actually read one of hisbooks—”
“I told you, I know enough to know I never want to read them. And being friends with you despite your fascination with the guy is about as openminded as I canbe.”
I folded my arms over my chest, not that he could see me, since he was two steps ahead of me on thetrail.
I hurried to catchup.
“Pritchard’s last few books were thebestwork he’s ever done. It’s all personal preference, I know, but…” I hesitated. “I’velikedJD Pritchard for a few years now, but I’velovedhim sinceScars—his second-to-last book. If you haven’t read the latest stuff, you’re missingout.”
“Uh huh. I’ll die having never truly lived. I accept this.” Fuck, the things his dry humor did to me. “It’s amystery novel, Julian. He’s hardly a super-hero.”
“I know! I know. But for me it feltreal.” I turned and walked backward so I could see his face. “There was this tortured main character, right? A detective. He’d losteverything—money, reputation, friends, livelihood—because he… well, whatever, that’sirrelevant.”
“Much like JDPritchard!”
I ignored this. “And the only way he could get his life back was by solving this decades-old murder. And all of the clues pointed towards this woman he was once madly in love with, but who’d dumped him for some other guy years before, but then it turns out… Uh, do you care if I spoil this foryou?”
Daniel shook his head, clearly amused. “You won’t spoilit.”
“Right, okay, so this woman actuallydidcommit themurder.”
“Jules—”
“Hush! Listen.” I laid a hand on his chest lightly. “She committed the murder, but it was to protect her son, so it was all kinds ofjustified.”
Daniel sighed, which I took as a sign that he was deeply invested in the story and begging me tocontinue.
“And in the end? The detective justwalks away,” I said in a hushed voice. “He doesn’t reveal that she’s the murderer, he doesn’t get the redemption for himself, he just leavestown.”
“To go kill himself under a bridge, since he has nothing? And you say thiswasn’ta bestseller? I. Am.Shocked.Hey, what kind of animal makes tracks like that?” He pointed at theground.
“God! Can you at least listen politely to my epic re-telling if you can’t fucking read the book?” I turned around so we were facing the same direction, specifically so I could hip-check him. “As I was saying, the hero realizes that he doesn’t need redemption. He doesn’t want his job back, or his money back, or an apology from his bosses for doubting him, or whatever. Because he learns that the thing he’d been missing before wasself-respect.”
“Right.” Daniel’s brow knit. “Sure. Sounds like you and maybe one other person were able to wade through and catchthat.”
“And so, when he solves the murder,” I continued, “he validates his own abilitiesto himself, even if no one else knows it. And then he protects his former lover—who I personally think he was still in love with, though opinions and multiple fanfics might argue this point—without expecting anything from her, and he sorta realizes that heisa good person, and he doesn’t need anyone else to agree. It was…” I pulled up the sleeve of my shirt and showed him the goosebumps on my arm. “Dude, I can’t eventalkabout it without getting allemotional.”
Daniel ran a hand over hisforehead.
“I’m not kidding when I say, I don’t wanna know what the hell this guy did to you in real life. Whether he peed in your cornflakes or stole your girlfriend or whatever, that’s between the two of you. If he crashed your car, or called you a shitty name, or took the last everything bagel at your snobby coffee shop.” I plowed on, warming to my topic. “Or if he got promoted at your job and you didn’t, or stole your work, or kidnapped your parakeet… Wait. He didn’t kidnap your parakeet, didhe?”
“Poor Bubbles. I miss him so.Damn you, Pritchard!” Daniel shook an angry fist at thesky.
“Right. I figured. You don’t look like a parakeet kind of guy.” Not that I could have explained what a parakeet guy looked like. “Seriously, though… Did he do something terrible?” I supposed that friend-loyalty would compel me to stop buying Pritchard’s stuff, whenever the next book cameout.
Daniel looked uncomfortable. “No. Nothingterrible.”
“Excellent,” I said happily. “Then I shall fanboy, no matter what yousay.”
