Backcast (21 page)

“Aren't you the same person who chastised me about bringing too many clothes up here?”

“Hey.” Shawn waved the rumpled shirt at her. “That was before I knew we were expected to dress up for dinner.”

Kate smiled at her. “I hardly think having to wear trousers and closed-toe shoes counts as dressing up.”

“Says you. I don't do all that girlie stuff very well.”

“Trust me, sweetheart. You do all of the important girlie stuff just fine.”

Okay. That one stopped Shawn in her tracks. She lowered the shirt.

“I do?”

Kate nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

So maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to miss dinner?

Shawn took a step toward Kate. “I'm suddenly not very hungry.”

Kate stopped her with a well-placed, stocking-clad foot to the thigh. “Hold up, Romeo. I missed lunch and I'm starving.”

Shawn sighed.

“Don't look so miserable. You can give your girlie goodness a workout
after
we eat.”

“I can?”

Kate nodded. “Now finish getting ready and tell me more about what the hell is going on with Viv and Towanda.”

Shawn returned to her sorting. “It would take a team of shrinks to answer that question.”

“Why do they hate each other so much?”

“I asked Viv that question after Mavis busted up the fight. I walked her around a little bit to try and calm her down. She was still spitting mad.”

“What did she say?”

Shawn shrugged. “Nothing very coherent. Although it seems pretty clear that they have some kind of history that predates this retreat.”

“I don't remember them being at such odds with each other during CLIT-Con last year.”

“Me either. But to be fair, I was kind of preoccupied with other things.”

“I guess I was, too.”

They smiled at each other a little shyly. Kate shook her head.

“What?”

“I still can't figure us out.”

“Us? I thought it was Viv and Towanda we were trying to figure out?”

“They're not mutually exclusive.”

“Okay.” Shawn put down her stack of shirts and joined Kate on the foot of the bed. “What about us is hard to figure out?”

“We can talk about that at dinner.”

“Nuh uh.” Shawn bumped her shoulder. “You can give me the CliffsNotes version now.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “You think there's a CliffsNotes version?”

“Of course.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Kate.”

“Okay. Okay. So, Linda approached me earlier today. She's retiring from
Gilded Lily
.”

Shawn was stunned. “No way?”

Kate nodded. “She wants me to take over as editor.”

“What did you say?” Shawn held her breath.

“I said I'd think about it.”

Think about it? What the hell was there to think about?

“Have you?” Shawn asked instead.

“Have I what?”

Shawn counted to five. “Have you thought about it?”

“Of course I have. I haven't thought about much of anything else since she mentioned it.”

“And?”

“And I think we should talk about it.”

“Okay.” Shawn looked at her watch. “Now is good for me.”

Kate smiled at her. “It's going to take more than one conversation.”

“I get that. But there's no time like the present to start parsing it out.”

“I kinda figured that would be your response.”

“I hate to be so transparent.”

“Don't apologize for that. It's very endearing. And it makes planning a lot easier.”

“Planning?” Shawn was confused.

“Um hmm.”

Patrick and Allie chose that moment to roar to their feet and unleash a volley of barking.

“What the hell?” Shawn turned around to face the door. “Hey. Knock it off, you two.”

“That's probably room service.”

Shawn looked at Kate. “Room service? This place doesn't
have
room service.”

“It does if you schmooze the handsome bartender.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Do you wanna go get that?”

“Okaaayyy . . .” Shawn got to her feet and walked to the door. “You wanna call off the hounds?”

“Kids.” Kate snapped her fingers. “Over here.
Now
.”

Patrick and Allie grudgingly complied. Shawn opened the door.

“Hi there.” A cheerful server handed Shawn a tray loaded with covered plates. “Here you go. Two burgers, medium rare. Fries. A bottle of MacMurray Ranch Pinot Noir. And a side of extra mustard.” Shawn took the tray. “You folks need anything else?”

“I think we're covered.” Shawn was dumbfounded by the fare. “Let me get you a tip.”

The server held up a hand. “No need, ma'am. It's already taken care of.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“You bet.” The server pulled the door closed and headed back toward the restaurant.

Shawn turned around to face Kate, who was watching her with an amused expression.

“Burgers and fries? Just how nice were you to the handsome barman?”

“Telling him he has a nice ass was my opening salvo. The rest happened organically.”

“No doubt.” Shawn examined the tray. “Extra mustard, too?”

“You never know.” Kate shrugged. “Things might get interesting.”

“If memory serves, things always get interesting when we have extra mustard.”

“I'm counting on it.”

These days, having Kate count on anything was an anomaly. It was a small thing, but Shawn decided that it was a step in the right direction.

She set the tray down on the small table.

“I'll do my best not to disappoint you.” She walked toward Kate and the dogs.

Kate got to her feet and met her halfway. “You never do.”

“You have to help her out.”

“Woman, get off my case.”

“I mean it.” Barb was watching Mavis clean her service weapon. She'd used it to fire a few rounds of blanks into the air to break up the fight after Page Archer summoned her.

“I stopped your damn brawl, now give me a break.”

“I know. And thanks for that.”

“If you ask me, you should tie their tails together and toss 'em over a clothesline.”

Barb considered that. “Not a bad idea. I don't think Towanda has written about that position yet.”

“Perverts. Why do they hate each other so much?”

“Beats me. They say the line that separates love from hate has a razor's edge.”

Mavis lowered her gun's barrel. “Who says that?”

Barb smiled. “I just did.”

Mavis rolled her eyes. “Hand me that can of oil.”

Barb passed it over to her. “Do you really have to clean it like this when you only shoot blanks?”

“Sure. You're still firing gunpowder—just no load. So the cylinder gets fouled just the same.”

“How did Page know you had this with you?”

“Because I told her about it when I checked in.”

“It figures.”

“What figures?”

“This.” Barb waved a hand toward the gun paraphernalia. “Of course you'd disclose that you had it.”

“By law, I had to disclose it. This place has a ‘no firearms' policy.”

“That's my point. You obey the law.”

“I wouldn't have a job very long if I didn't.”

“And that brings us back to my original point.”

“Forget about it.”

“Mavis.”

Mavis slammed the gun down on the towel she'd spread across the tabletop. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“I want you to help her out.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you can. And because you're a decent human being.”

“You're crazier than that pack of loons you call authors.”

Barb didn't reply. She sat and watched Mavis work a tiny brush in and out of the gun barrel. It made a soft, whooshing noise. Barb thought it sounded like the waves. She got to her feet.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to work. I'm feeling pretty good tonight. I think I've got another hour or so left in me. Might as well make hay while the sun shines.”

Mavis looked out the window. “It's nearly dark.”

“I was being metaphorical.”

“Don't you stay down there too late.”

Barb had a makeshift studio set up in the barn. Doug Archer had even hauled in a workbench to accommodate her tools.

“I won't.”

“You said that last night and I had to come get your ass at twelve-thirty.”

“I won't. I promise.” Barb walked to the door. “Let me know how it goes.”

“How what goes?”

“Your talk with Quinn.”

Barb was able to duck out of the room before Mavis's oily rag connected with the back of the door.

“How long have you been sitting down here?”

Darien hadn't been looking for V. Jay-Jay, but when she saw her sitting on the rocks that jutted out into the water alongside the pier, she decided to join her. The sun was setting, and the sky was fantastic, overlaid with dramatic swirls of indigo, tangerine, and coral. Darien thought it looked like one of those black velvet roadside paintings that were so omnipresent in the Southwest. V. Jay-Jay was perched atop an outcropping of big rocks that had been pushed in by the winter ice floes. Her stark silhouette was plainly visible against the explosive backdrop. She could've been Elvis. Well. A younger, more svelte Elvis, without the pompadour or sequins.

“I came down to admire the view.” V. Jay-Jay nodded toward the horizon. “I can only imagine how electric it must be on the west side of the island.”

Darien looked at her watch. “I'd say let's roar over there and take a look, but by the time we got to the car, the sun would be down.”

“True. I can rage against the dying of the light just as effectively from here.”

“Okay. I know that's a quote I'm supposed to recognize.”

“You mean you don't?”

Darien shook her head.

“I have so many things to teach you, White Rabbit.”

“So you're doubling-down now?”

“You don't know that one either?”

“Nope.”

“How on earth can you write if you don't read?”

“I read.”

V. Jay-Jay raised an eyebrow.

“Okay. Maybe I don't read all those musty, dead poets that you're so partial to. But I read plenty.”

“The dead poets, as you call them, would have a fair amount of relevance for your particular brand of fiction.”

“And you know this because?”

“I read two of them last night.”

Darien was stunned. “
My
books?”

V. Jay-Jay nodded.

“You read
two
of my books?”

‘Yes.”

“In one night?”

“Yes. Why do you sound so surprised? It wasn't like tackling two volumes of later Wittgenstein.”

Darien sighed. “I'm pretty sure that was an insult. Once I have confirmation, I'll be sure to act offended.”

V. Jay-Jay smiled. “Why don't you pull up a rock and enjoy what's left of the view?”

Darien picked her way out onto the rocks and found a reasonably flat place to sit. The colors in the sky were fading in intensity now. It would be dark soon.

“It really is beautiful here. I see now why Barb picked this place.”

“Me, too.” V. Jay-Jay stared out across the water. “It's so unspoiled. So quiet. Like it's yet to be discovered.”

“All except for those two hundred, hopped-up bass boats that'll soon be roaring around all over the place.”

“True.”

“I feel bad for Quinn.”

“Why?”

Darien was surprised by her question. “Don't you? I mean—isn't Quinn one of your classic
antiheroes
?” She made air quotes around the word.

“Quinn is just a tragic figure, period. Fishing notwithstanding.”