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“And that then you’d be more inclined to listen,” Connor adds, bringing us back to the point of our visit.
“Listen to what?”
I look around, spying a few casual looking chairs. “Can we sit?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess,” Diana says slowly, but she takes several steps into the living room and we follow. She points toward the couch, and Connor and I sit after moving the blanket and the laundry. Diana sets the bag of food down in the kitchen before coming back in to pull one of her chairs over and sit down herself.
This is it. I’m on.
Weaving a story that makes my readers feel something, experience it viscerally as they read the words I’ve poured onto a page, is not only my job but my passion. But my words have never been more important than right now. And I’m not used to working on the fly like this. I prefer to put my words on paper so I can massage them until I find the right combination.
But this is do or die. If Diana understands and I get my laptop back, I’ll be able to write book two in time to meet my deadline. If not, I don’t know what I’ll do.
I’ve already resorted to breaking and entering and intimidation. How much further will I go? I hope I don’t have to find out.
“Diana, you’re sort of right. I have been working like mad on book two.”
Diana squirms in her seat, eager already. “What’s it called?”
I’m not supposed to say. It’s in my contract with Bluebird Publishing. But that’s the least of my concerns on what I’m about to reveal. Still . . .
“Can you keep a secret?”
Diana’s eyes light up, and she makes a locking motion to her lips as she nods. Not only is she hearing about the story, but she’s getting insider information. Nothing could be more irresistible.
“It’s called . . .” I take a breath, diving in with both feet and no safety net, “Trouble in Great Falls.”
“Oh!” Diana’s mouth falls open a split second before she covers it with both hands. “No! Not Amber and Ryker! I thought they got their happily ever after.”
“Well . . .” I twist my lips, not saying that’s not true but definitely implying it. Diana leans forward, definitely interested in hearing more. “Like I said, I’m working on it. But I ran into a bit of trouble.
“With the book?”
“You could say that.” I sigh dramatically. “My laptop was taken. With my book on it.”
“No fucking way!”
I nod sadly. “Yes, fucking way. And it’s been an adventure all its own, trying to track it down, here and there and everywhere. Seriously, I’ve been from one side of this city to the other. Over the past few days, it’s felt like a quest to get my heart back.” I place my hands on my chest for emphasis.
“What does that have to do with me?” Diana asks, her face worried. “Why are you here?”
Connor stares at her with dead eyes and raised brows, and even in her overtired state, she figures out the puzzle pieces without my having to give too many details.
Diana’s eyes widen, and she gets it. “No way!”
“Way,” I confirm. “Diana, it all sounds crazy. I know it does. And it’s been through several pairs of hands now, but the laptop you bought at the pawn shop is mine. It has the manuscript of Trouble in Great Falls on it. At least I hope it still does.”
“The manuscript is on my laptop?” she echoes, then laughs at the ridiculousness of that statement even though it’s the truth. “You bullshittin’ me?”
“Well, my laptop,” I correct carefully. “And no bullshit. If you bring it out, I can pull up the file myself, log in under the desktop, all that.”
Diana’s expression goes from confusion to wonder to ‘oh, no, you didn’t’ in rapid succession. “Wait, you think I—”
Connor leans forward, his elbows on his knees and his expression serious. “We’re sure you didn’t know, Diana. You just went to a pawn shop to get a new computer.”
“Damn right, I did,” Diana says, sounding defensive.
“But it’s still possession of stolen goods,” Connor adds flatly.
Diana sighs heavily, flopping back in the chair. “Go to the pawn shop, Diana. They’ll give you a good deal.” Her voice is high-pitched and bitter, mimicking whoever told her that. To us, she says, “I start a nurse practitioner course tomorrow. I have to have a laptop to log in.”
“Where is it?” Connor demands, and I can see Diana’s hackles rising.
“Wait!” I interject, trying to soften things because I don’t think Connor meant that to sound so ominous. Or well, maybe he did, but it’s not getting the response we need. “Look, Diana. I need the laptop back. I’ll even buy it back from you. I know you bought it with hard-earned money, and I respect that. I’ll pay you back what you spent and buy you a new laptop . . . but I gotta have my data. Tonight. If not . . . well, let’s just say the next time my editor gives me a call, you’ll be responding to my house for a murder scene. Mine.”
