Page 41 of Old Flames

Mike approached and asked about Dick. “Any news on Carlisle? Is he doing alright?”

“He’ll survive,” Leo replied, “but his ego won’t. Not if I have anything to do with it. I’ll never let him live it down.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Mike said with a chuckle. He selected July’s debut novel off the pile. “Ms. Jones, would you sign this for my daughter?”

“Of course. What’s her name?”

“Angela.”

At first glance, the bookstore appeared empty. However, as soon as the Sharpie pen appeared, people came out of the stacks and lined up with books for Jules and Leo to sign. For a few minutes, they chatted with their readers, answered their questions, and posed for selfies. A fan asked July if she believed in time travel. “No, of course not,” she said with an indulgent smile. “But it’s fun to dream.”

Leo pushed on, going through the motions, wondering if they would get a minute to wander the stacks on their own, select books and discard them, grab coffee and find a quiet corner to talk until closing time.

A young shop employee tasked to manage the line, gazed at Jules admiringly. “Her aura is out of this world.”

Leo wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was inclined to agree.

“One per customer!” Mike announced, an eye on his dwindling stock. “Come back for tomorrow’s event. All five authors will be here for an hour.”

They finished up and Jules made her way to him. “Vicky is blowing up my phone,” she said. “They’re ready to head out to dinner. We have to go.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said stubbornly.

“In this case we do,” she said. “We have to earn that honorarium.”

“Want to keep on ditching the others and head over to Mallory Square?” Leo proposed instead. He wanted her to know that he’d heard her earlier and took her wants, desires, and needs seriously.

“By the time we get there it’ll be way past sunset.”

“Ah,” he said. “Then I owe you a sunset.”

14

The lecture hall to elegant dinner to Duval Street pipeline finally landed them at the legendary Sloppy Joe’s Bar. The ghost of Hemingway was nowhere to be seen, but signs of him were everywhere. From a wall-mounted replica of a huge sailfish that the author had reportedly caught to a Papa impersonator vibing at the bar. Otherwise, it was like any bar on a Saturday night, patrons flowed out the open doors and onto the busy sidewalk. While the guys checked out the live band, Vicky ordered a round of Sloppy Ritas and drew Jules and Ayesha into a huddle. Over dinner, Matty teased his multi-book deal with Operon Comics.

“Quick,” Vicky said. “Thoughts on Matty’s book deal.”

Ayesha: “Hopeful.”

Jules: “Hmm.”

“It’s the sort of deal that can draw him out of debt,” Ayesha added.

Multi-book deals were double-edged swords at best. If it didn’t work out, you were trapped, churning out books for the devil. Operon was a storied publishing house with iconic characters and rabid fans, and that, too, could prove to be a problem.

“In debt or not, he should think twice,” Jules said. “Anyone who’s been to Comic-Con knows that Operon fans will turn on you, harass you, even dox you if you fuck around and kill off one of their favs.”

Vicky took a poll. “One hopeful. One holdout.”

“He should take the deal if it feels right,” Jules said. “But he is who he is, Vicky. One book deal won’t change him.”

Ayesha warned Jules that she’d swerved into her lane. “Tough love is my job,” she said. “Matty has grown on me these last couple days. He’s lovely, so thoughtful.”

This could be a stunning reversal or, most likely, the Sloppy Rita talking.

“You two have great chemistry,” Ayesha said dreamily. “It’s undeniable.”

“Since when do you care about chemistry?” Vicky asked. “I’m following your advice and using common sense.”