THE BOOK SIGNING
PART TWO
The young man shuffles his feet, thinking of an answer to my statement. I won't lie, I hope he walks away. What does a man say to a woman that writes about killing men?
"Is this a feminist book of some kind? I took a class..."
"You took a class?" I interrupt, laughing. "There is a class about people like me?"
He stammers and searches for another answer. Leaning back in the chair, I smile and enjoy watching him squirm.
"I took a class on feminism. What do you mean people like you?" he asks.
"Serial killers," I say, winking at him.
He lets out a whistle and grabs a more copies of my book. "A book about serial killers, I love that shit. You have to come tell my friends all about it. "
The manager hurries over to process payment for ten copies and I can't deny feeling happiness at selling this many books, no matter that he sounds and looks like a frat boy.
"Maybe over drinks," I say in a low voice, leaning forward to get a better look at him. The pale blue of his eyes contain flecks of gray and his broad shoulders look strong. I close my eyes and imagine him putting those thick hands on me, mauling me.
"There is a bottle of vodka at the house I keep hidden from the guys," he says.
The reality that he might indeed be a frat boy almost kills the fantasy. Almost, but he is quite handsome. There is that. Opening my eyes, I watch him smiling and expecting an answer.
"I don't know if that's a great idea."
"Really? Don't be scared. I don't bite."
"I meant for your friends." I force a smile and rise from the chair.
Saul approaches, but I wave him away. The boy stands, but doesn't understand I want to leave. "I'm going for a drink, Saul."
Crossing his arms, Saul grunts, but doesn't respond otherwise. I can feel his anger and I laugh as I walk towards the exit. The boy hurries to join me and opens the door a moment before I reach it. Stepping outside into the late morning sunshine, I wait for him to lead me to his car.
I offer him my arm, but instead of taking it he rushes towards the parking lot. The thought crosses my mind to abandon this plan, but a Corvette stops at the curb. I see him in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel and the other opening the passenger door for me.
Yes, I'd love a ride in a Corvette.
Jumping into the open door, I pull the seat-belt over my chest and smile at him.
"Put on some music."
"Is this a feminist book of some kind? I took a class..."
"You took a class?" I interrupt, laughing. "There is a class about people like me?"
He stammers and searches for another answer. Leaning back in the chair, I smile and enjoy watching him squirm.
"I took a class on feminism. What do you mean people like you?" he asks.
"Serial killers," I say, winking at him.
He lets out a whistle and grabs a more copies of my book. "A book about serial killers, I love that shit. You have to come tell my friends all about it. "
The manager hurries over to process payment for ten copies and I can't deny feeling happiness at selling this many books, no matter that he sounds and looks like a frat boy.
"Maybe over drinks," I say in a low voice, leaning forward to get a better look at him. The pale blue of his eyes contain flecks of gray and his broad shoulders look strong. I close my eyes and imagine him putting those thick hands on me, mauling me.
"There is a bottle of vodka at the house I keep hidden from the guys," he says.
The reality that he might indeed be a frat boy almost kills the fantasy. Almost, but he is quite handsome. There is that. Opening my eyes, I watch him smiling and expecting an answer.
"I don't know if that's a great idea."
"Really? Don't be scared. I don't bite."
"I meant for your friends." I force a smile and rise from the chair.
Saul approaches, but I wave him away. The boy stands, but doesn't understand I want to leave. "I'm going for a drink, Saul."
Crossing his arms, Saul grunts, but doesn't respond otherwise. I can feel his anger and I laugh as I walk towards the exit. The boy hurries to join me and opens the door a moment before I reach it. Stepping outside into the late morning sunshine, I wait for him to lead me to his car.
I offer him my arm, but instead of taking it he rushes towards the parking lot. The thought crosses my mind to abandon this plan, but a Corvette stops at the curb. I see him in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel and the other opening the passenger door for me.
Yes, I'd love a ride in a Corvette.
Jumping into the open door, I pull the seat-belt over my chest and smile at him.
"Put on some music."