Saturday, May 5, 2012

Story: Book Signing

Yes things have been crazy and I have already been reminded that the promise was to post twice a week.  Well, I haven't quite gotten there.  In fact, it's so bad that I have taken to posting writing exercises from my old writers group.  But still, I find them quite entertaining and hopefully I will write something new soon.  Until then, enjoy and bear with me!

Even with the air conditioning, the Barnes and Noble was getting hot and stuffy.  Trina had been sitting at this table with its hard backed chair for what seemed like forever, signing countless copies of her autobiography „Underneath it All“.  Hundreds of squealing girls wanting pictures, some not even having bothered to crack open the book in line.  She had just smiled plastic like with a 12 year old and her overbearing mother when she looked to the next in line.
            „Hi. How are you today?“ she asked mechanically for what seemed like the ten thousandth time (and probably was).
            „Is Lena dead at the end?“ the thin, bespectacled young man demanded, slamming the book down in front of her and dropping his head within inches of hers. 
            „E...excuse me?“ she stammered, recoiling automatically.
            „Lena.  In  ‚Partners in Crime’.  Is she dead?“
            Trina closed her eyes for a moment in annoyance.  Of course. Her little „action“ movie.  The cliffhanger ending was made to encourage demand for a sequel.
            „Uh...well, no one knows...maybe you’ll find out...can I sign this for you?“  She pulled the horrid pink cover (the publishers’ idea) towards her and raised her pen.  She noticed then that several pages had been dogeared.
            „Did you expect to find clues in here or something?“ she said dryly.
            He smiled.  „A guy can hope, right? Besides, what else am I supposed to do fort wo hours in line?“
            „God it’s only been two hours?“ she muttered.
            „Hey,“ he said, mocking seriousness „Some of these people have been camped out overnight.“
            She tried to force back a laugh, then cleared her throat.  „I’m very grateful.“
            „Sure.“ He said slyly, leaning in again.  „So...what IS ‚Underneath it All’?“
            „Real original.“ She snapped, going to sign the inside of the cover, wincing at the provocatively posed Photoshop mockup of herself.  Then out of curiosity turned to one of the dogeared pages.
            „Why did you mark this?“ she asked.
            He peered over to look at the page, scanning it quickly.  „Oh, this little part you’ve written here about your venture into Buddhism.  A little ironic don’t you think?  Especially after you punched that girl at that club...“
            „You shouldn’t believe everything you read,“ she said in annoyance, flipping back to the inside cover.
            „Apparently.“ He said, raising his eyebrows.
            „That’s not...I mean...tabloids you know...well...who should I make this out to?“ She scribbled the word „To“ over her Jimmy Choo clad foot.
            „Nick.“ He grinned.  „It’s a pleasure to meet you, Trina.“
            „Sure you too“ she muttered, signing her name in a rushed flourish, slamming the book shut and shoving it towards him.
            „Thanks,“ he said, sweeping it up with his left hand and walking away.  As he did, he called over his shoulder.  „You’re a fair writer.  You should keep it up.“
            She stared after him, momentarily speechless.
            „So...“ said the grizzled old man next in line, pushing his copy slowly towards her with his grubby hand.  „When do you pose for Playboy?“

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