AT THE BOOKSTORE
THE ANGER IN VEGAS
Saul appears in the entrance and I know it's time to go inside. Waiting for George to open my door and escort me inside, I stop the playlist. This charade grows stale and I see no need for any of it. George hooks an arm through mine and leads me like a waltz partner to Saul. The scowl on his face gives me pause for most times we visit this bookstore he doesn't bother giving me a report.
"There is a strange looking man inside, but I don't think he will be trouble."
Wish a sigh, I enter the store and crane my neck around the bookshelves in search of the man in question. "I don't want to be bothered today, Saul. Can you see to that or do I need to hire more help? Maybe one from our latest batch?
His knuckles crack as his hands form fists, but he says nothing in return and I begin the playlist once more. I hear the new Rihanna song, remixed by Korn and the aggressive music fills me with smiles. Approaching the shelf lined with books from local authors, I take one in my hands.
"What the hell is Cthulhu?" I say, stopping the music and trying to sound out the strange looking word.
"It's the creature from Lovecraft's famous short story The Call of Cthulhu, of course," I hear a voice answer. A balding middle aged man with a thick Santa style beard watches me examine the book.
Saul, I fucking told you. This ruins the writing today. Taking a deep breath, I flip through the pages and read the description on the back cover. Am I missing something? I don't get it.
"No, I can tell you it's not. On good authority from the author."
Crossing my arms and putting the book against my chest, I wait for an explanation.
He points at the author's name. "That's me."
Great. A fucking writer. This won't end well for him. "Why does Lovecraft sound familiar to me?"
"He's kind of a big deal. One of the most famous horror writers ever. Lived in Providence, father sent to a mental institution, this guy is a legend."
"Providence?" Oh, the plot thickens. Nodding towards George, I hold the book out for him to take. "Buy this for me. Thanks."
George takes the book to the counter and pays the friendly owner lady working the register. The writer watches me and I remove the headphones from my ears.
"This book better be good. I don't like wasting my time with fucking indie authors. Every time I do the book turns out to be garbage."
"It's not garbage, I promise."
I smile at him and allow George to take my arm. "Bet your life on it?"