Chapter 6

SIX

The rest of the week was a lesson in frustration. None of the printers we'd had in mind could get us in for printing before the New Year, which was unacceptable. I wouldn't kill Ryan's momentum for this release.

Her web comic had far exceeded my expectations. I had hoped she would be a strong start for my online web comics. Many people preferred to read on their tablets these days. It was hard to store print, and many readers were on the go all the time.

Tripod —Ryan Moon's web comic about her fox Sylvia, cat Smoky, and their owner Roz had gone viral thanks to an offhand post from Ryan on her social media. We'd capitalized on it by moving fast with the first release. Luckily, Ryan had a ton of art already done, but social media was a demon and needed to be fed at all times.

So much that print had been a serious demand.

She'd blasted through her preorder numbers, and while amazing in theory, it was showing just how many holes I had in my business plan. Most businesses had a slow start and were more worried about getting revenue. My problem was the exact opposite—meeting the demand.

I towel-dried my hair in the small bedroom that was mine until I left. Today was signing day at Every Line A Story, and I'd have to shove the administrative crap out of my head and put my artist face on.

Where I preferred to be, dammit.

I missed the days where I only had to deal with figuring out where Moksha was going next.

Instead of how to save my new press.

I dragged on my dress jeans—fuck a suit, man. Especially not on a hot fall day. Which should be crisp at this freaking point. October was mere days away. I skipped the black jacket. Instead, I went with a black tank with my purple button-down shirt. It matched the Knights of Chaos purple exactly.

Opening the door, I grabbed my boots on the way out. Voices carried up the stairs. This time, not the peeling laughter of children I'd come to recognize.

Was my brother back in town?

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I frowned. "What the heck are you doing here?"

My best friend, and business partner, turned around. "Missed you too, mate."

I rolled my eyes as I dumped my boots by the chair and crossed to him. I gave him a hard hug. "I thought you were going to be in Scotland for another week."

Larsen McCade was a hair shorter than my six feet. His dark hair had started an early silver with a shock of white at his widow's peak. His craggy face was as familiar as my own. We'd met at NYU and had been joined at the hip for nearly twenty years.

"I had to come and save you from yourself. My dad understood. He was ready to be rid of me, anyway. He's got a new lass."

Whenever Larsen went home, his Scottish was thick for a few days. Of course, his family in Aberdeen thought the opposite.

"Does he now?" I rolled back the cuffs of my shirt. "Gerry finally getting back out there?"

"Yeah, never thought I'd see the day. American."

I laughed. "Didn't see that coming."

"Neither did the old man." He slapped me on the arm. "So, I get to ride your ass at the signing."

"Great."

He glanced down at my outfit. "Wearing that?"

The urge to tell him to fuck off was curbed by my mother coming into the room with two mugs of coffee. "Tea for you, Larsen. I had to get out the kettle you sent me for Christmas. I love it. I didn't know they could be so fancy."

"You're a gem, JoJo." He kissed her cheek and my mother flushed as she always did at the nickname and the accent.

"You look like a ragamuffin, Penn."

I sighed. "I'm just not tucked yet."

"Where's your belt? Have I not taught you anything?" She shook her head and handed me the mug.

"The bottom half of me will be behind a table."

"People will want photos," Larsen interjected.

My mom patted Larsen. "See. He knows. I'll just go upstairs and get one from the closet."

I glanced at him. "See what you started?"

"Look, you can play the slob artist all you want when there aren't cameras around, son."

"I'm not a slob."

He arched a brow at me, his arctic eyes cutting.

"Fine. What does it matter what I look like? It's about the art."

"The shirt is a nice touch, at least. The Hugo Boss pants would be better."

"Fuck off."

Larsen grinned. "You only get away with that because JoAnn is upstairs."

"Double fuck you."

He laughed. And of course, even off a transatlantic flight, my best friend looked flawless in one of his Brioni suits. I swore he had a closet full of them. I was a cotton and denim guy—unabashedly. Hugo Boss was only under duress.

"It's fine. You'll look more like an everyman, I suppose."

"Heaven forbid." While I was waiting to be dressed by everyone but me, I put on my boots that made Larsen roll his eyes again.

My mother came back down the stairs with a belt from my bag—thankfully. I didn't want to think about the JC Penney special hidden in some Tupperware tub in a closet.

"Thanks, Ma." I gave her a quick kiss. "I'm stealing your favorite son."

"Oh, does Larsen have to go with you?"

"Sorry, JoJo. I'll bring you back something from the gift shop."

"Oh, you don't need to do that." But she pinked up.

Disgusted, I hooked my hand around Larsen's elbow. "Let's go kiss ass."

"How'd you get here?"

"Delta, unfortunately."

I snorted as I headed down the drive to my car. "I mean there's no car, asshole."

"Uber. Shockingly, the rideshare has even found small towns."

"Is that right?"

"I know. A delightful grandmother of seven drove me here."

I shook my head and opened my door. He got in on the other side. "I'm glad to see you, not that I know what to do with you in my parents' small house. The other rooms have become toddler havens from all my siblings' offspring."

"Not a worry. I rented a cottage on the lake."

"Fancy. Have a few rooms?"

"Maybe." He grinned at me as he pulled out his phone. "Though JoAnn will shoot me if I take her baby boy away."

"I am the eldest, thanks."

"And the only singleton in your clan."

"Don't remind me. My mother already tried to get me to have lunch with one of her friends' daughters."

"She doesn't have enough grandchildren?"

"Evidently not." I turned onto Barrow Avenue to head into town. "I am glad to see you. I talked to my brother about our printing problem, and he had a maybe idea."

"Maybe?" Larsen glanced up from his phone.

I explained the local newspaper angle, which took up the rest of the drive to Every Line A Story. Since traffic was congested, I took one of the back streets that opened up into the parking lot behind the café. Saturdays were busy in town, but today looked extra full of tourists. Probably people enjoying the temperate fall day.

Since we were early, we stopped at Brewed Awakening. I figured I'd need some extra fortification for the day. The hum of conversation in the café was higher than usual. I wasn't a resident anymore, but there was a surprising amount of people who I didn't recognize inside.

The lines were long, but Macy Gideon, the proprietress, ran a tight ship and was moving people along quickly.

Larsen gave a happy sigh. "I don't know how this place is better than the city for coffee, and yet."

"Macy is magic. Remind me to get some beans before I leave next week. Unless you're not sticking around?"

"Nah, I can do everything remotely here. I have a few meetings with our distributors but Zoom works just as well here as it does in the city."

We talked about the annoyances of behind-the-scenes business as we waited our turn until I heard a throat clear.

I glanced to my right to see a guy in his late teens standing with his fingers jammed into his pocket.

"Sorry to bother you, but are you Penn Masterson?"

"Yes."

"Oh, man. I can't believe it. I mean, I'm going to the signing, but you're really here. Just getting coffee like everyone else."

I grinned. "I'm just like everyone else. Just with a few extra weird braincells."

I was used to talking to fans, but it was generally at conventions or signings. Not out in the wild.

"Um. I'm going to stand in line with everyone else, of course, but I was wondering if I could get a photo?"

I glanced at the line.

Larsen waved me off. "I'll get your regular."

"Thanks."

I stepped out of the line and mugged for the kid, and another three people came up. I tried to take photos with everyone, but the crowd kept getting bigger.

I wasn't expecting all of this in the Cove. People knew of me, but they mostly just thought I was a weird artist type who came and went. Then again, no one in this crowd were people I recognized.

My face started to hurt from smiling, and I was afraid there wouldn't be a genuine one in any of the photos. I tried to look for Larsen for help and I found him standing by the door with a grin.

I gave him a thanks for the help look.

He just shrugged and sipped from his cup.

I was jostled as two girls stepped closer to me and another three guys crowded in from the front. Had the signing brought this many people in?

"All right. If you're not buying, you're out!" A woman's voice lifted from the back of the pack of fans.

There were groans, but most shuffled off. A few dispersed to the lines for coffee with annoyed glances over their shoulders at my avenging angel.

"Looked like you needed a rescue." Macy grinned at me.

"I wasn't expecting all that." At all. I figured maybe a good thirty people would show, maybe a few more for Ryan. We'd sent out newsletters and that sort of thing, but Central New York wasn't exactly a hub of fans. And it was a hell of a drive out for most people.

We'd expected the huge crowds when we did New York Comic Con and had planned accordingly. This?

My gut twisted uneasily. I hadn't prepared for a crowd like this.

"You didn't catch the line of people all the way down to the flower shop?" Macy broke into my mental spiral.

"What? No." Shock had my jaw literally dropping. Brooks Greenery was all the way on the edges of Main.

"Well, not the big flower shop. You're good, but you're not Harry Styles, pal. A Flower A Day—Bess Wainwright's new place."

The name was familiar. "Asher's wife?"

"Nope. The grandmother. I'd go so far as calling her a grande dame. She makes an entrance." That Macy knowing grin was in place. "You'll have to grab a bouquet for JoAnn. She loves that place."

"Good to know." I shook my head, still in awe of the cluster of fans. "Lots of changes while I was out of town."

"Things are moving fast here these days. New houses and businesses popping up all over." She held up a to-go cup. "Sustenance."

I took it gratefully. "You are a goddess."

She grinned. "That I am. Nice to see you, Penn. Don't be a stranger. Now get out of here before all your fans revolt."

"Going." I zipped through the people lined up again, ducking my head when a few seemed to recognize me.

Don't make eye contact.

When I got near Larsen, he opened the door, and I followed him out. The crowd was just as intense out on the sidewalk. Many seemed to be congregating over in the park across from Brewed Awakening. A few were taking photos with the skeletons in funny poses at the gazebo while others were making picnics along the waterline.

The pier was dotted with people taking their social media shots with the lake as the backdrop. Crescent Lake was a gem of the area, that was for sure. The nearby Onondaga Lake was just as gorgeous, but this one seemed to bring families in droves.

Helped that we had made sure to maximize our parks and walkways for pedestrian traffic. It brought people into town and had created a bustling commerce, as well.

Soon enough, the winter would cool everything down, including the tourists. Our one bright spot was the Winter Festival and then everyone in Crescent Cove settled in for snowpocolypse.

"Damn, man. Look at that."

I turned to follow Larsen's gaze, and my jaw dropped for the second time. "Holy shit."

"Yeah. I expected an easy day." He socked me in the arm. "Hope you have that signing hand ready, son."

"I definitely do not, but I guess we're doing it, anyway." I wasn't looking forward to walking into that mob of people.

"Is there a back way into the shop?"

I turned to him. "You're a genius."

"Why you keep me around." He grinned. "Looks like there's an alleyway, maybe?"

"Yeah. There's a link to the back of The Haunt for food and the like. I think there's a back way into Colette's from there."

"Well, go on. I'll keep everyone on me." He tugged at the bottom of his suit to smooth his already crisp suit.

I knew my best friend would toss around his Scottish brogue and get everyone tittering after him. He was a good friend, and he definitely did not mind the attention.

I took off around back toward the parking lot. A group of people were coming my way, luckily too busy talking to one another or on their phones so I was able to duck around the corner to the alley.

The hot day also meant a hot dumpster.

I hurried past that to the back doors to all the shops. The bakery had a bright ass pink door which let me know that two doors down was Every Line A Story.

Thankfully, the door was propped open. I hadn't really thought the back door access thing through. The damn door was probably typically locked. Thank God for employees needing a smoke break.

Though it didn't look like any smoking was being done here. The glom of people made me twitchy for one, but no time for that. Nor did I want to smell like a cigarette with so many people around me.

I slid inside and the door slammed shut behind me.

I leaned on the door and let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Obviously, this was where Colette kept her overflow stock. Cases of books were stacked by the door, readying for the masses.

I took a minute to breathe, stuffing down the sudden nerves I hadn't expected. When I did the conventions, I had time to prepare for the crowds.

They didn't bother me overmuch—when I was prepared.

Today, not so much.

I shook out my stiff fingers and blew out a breath. This would be a piece of cake.

I crossed to the door and tried the lever handle—locked.

"Fuck."

I patted my pocket for my phone and pulled it out.

No bars.

Fucking fabulous.

I tried it again and noted the blinking keypad beside the door. Not sure how I got in the back door if Colette was such a stickler, but now I was definitely in trouble.

At least until someone let me in.

Surely someone needed to come looking for books for the signing at the very least.

I sat down on the case of books, my butt dipping low on the half-filled box. I stood back up and dug into the box.

Surprised when it wasn't my book—or Ryan's.

"Romance?" I muttered.

I checked the side of the boxes—filled with copies of Date with Disaster.

What the hell was that?

The cover was pretty obviously romance or women's fiction, which was definitely not my genre, but the names vaguely tickled my brain.

Before I could read the back the door opened.

Then someone slid inside and slammed the door again with her back to the door and her hand on her chest.

The familiar blond hair of my mystery lady from a few days ago paralyzed my mouth.

What was she doing here?

The light was dim back here, but I didn't want to scare her.

"Tell me you know the code."

She jumped and her startled green eyes zeroed in on me. "What are you doing in here?"

"I have the same question, Green Eyes. What the heck are you doing back here?"