Chapter 5

Who Can It Be Now?

I didn't realize my hand was shaking until Beth laid hers over mine to still it. I swallowed and glanced at Tammy while my heartbeat thundered against my chest. A barely audible squeak escaped my lips in Mary's timorous manner. "She's here."

Tearing my gaze from my friends, I started scanning the lounge. There had to be over a hundred customers, most of them women here for the conference. I looked for anyone with their phones out. A good half were either holding their cell or had it lying on the table near their hand. Some were taking selfies or showing pictures to their tablemates while others scrolled or typed away, updating their social media accounts, no doubt. Everyone seemed to be laughing and having a good time except this one girl lurking just inside the door.

Focusing my attention, I made a mental note of the lone stranger. Draped in all black—a long-sleeved button shirt and cargo pants—with her hands stuffed into her pockets, she appeared to be staring right at me. Long, ebony hair half covered her face, making it hard to distinguish details. All I could tell was she was lanky and not African-American before she noticed me staring back. In a blink, she bolted through the exit.

My brain ticked, firing hundreds of neurons at once. I wanted to chase after her and I didn't. I thought it could be her when truly it could be any of the hundred women in the bar. Fear froze my body while rage fueled it to move, and I hovered in a vortex of indecision. What if she's dangerous? What if I make a fool of myself chasing the wrong person? What if she makes my life a living hell? How did she get my phone number?

I vaguely detected Tammy's twanging tenor and Beth's quaint English voice beneath the pulse pounding in my ears. It was too late to follow her now. I blinked to clear my double vision and shook my head to merge two of everything back into one.

"What's wrong, Aspen? You look like you've seen a ghost." The concern in Winter's tone as she rejoined the table drew me to glance over as she plopped into her chair. Though her brows shot up and the corners of her mouth drooped—lips parted as if in dismay—it dawned on me she hadn't been in the room when the text came through. There were only two people I knew for a fact hadn't sent the notes, only two I could trust—Tammy and Beth. Anyone else could be my nemesis. And what did she want, anyway? Revenge? For what? I didn't do anything.

I couldn't face the nightmare. The walls closed in and I couldn't breathe. I just needed some air. "SapphicLover69," I rasped out as I stood and shoved the phone back in my purse. "She's here. I'll be back in a minute," I said, hoping it would satisfy everyone. Tammy could explain. I had to get out of there, so I bolted from the room like my tail was on fire.

On shaky legs, I headed for the nearest exit without the word "Emergency" inscribed over it. It took me past some vending machines and through another door onto a small, secluded, tiled patio surrounded by ornamental trees and planters bursting with flora. Soft lights illuminated the courtyard as it had finally grown dark outside. While avoiding the heat of the sun, moisture permeated the air, void of any breeze at all. It still felt cooler than being in the same room as my unknown stalker.

Worried I might collapse, I took the nearest wrought-iron chair, rested my elbows on the matching table, and dropped my head into my hands in hopes it would stop spinning. This was ridiculous! Who was she, and why was she harassing me? Taking slow, deep breaths, I tried to steady myself. Aspen Wolfe doesn't run away like a scared fawn, I chastised myself. She would shake this off like it was nothing, take it in stride as the price for being famous, and laugh at it all. Why can't I do that? Why can't I just be her on the inside?

I fought back tears, swearing I wouldn't let that vengeful woman reduce me to a blubbering little girl. No. I would find out who she was, confront her, and that would be the end of it. But who was she and how the hell did she get my cell phone number? The only person at the conference who had my number was Tammy, and she wouldn't have given it to another soul.

Raising my chin, I propped it on my folded hands and stared at a crepe myrtle bloom. When I checked in at the front desk, I had to write my phone number on the papers, I considered. Could SapphicLover69 be a hotel employee? Maybe she walked by and saw it. That woman with her cadre of admirers who I thought might be Selina Fowlerton. She writes mystery/thrillers and crime stories; you'd think she'd be adept at spy work. In fact, a character did something similar in her book, Envious Espionage .

Hearing uneven footsteps approach from behind raised the hairs on the back of my neck, and I stiffened. I summoned Aspen Wolfe's courage, inhaled sharply, and glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see the snarling, menacing face of SapphicLover69. Instead, I was greeted with a dazzling smile.

"You found it too loud and crowded in there too?" chirped a cheerful voice.

Before me stood an odd, apple-shaped woman with honey-blonde hair stringing down in waves from a head that was too big, golden wire-rimmed glasses framing eyes that were too small, and an asymmetrical face painted with freckles. She stood with her shoulders at a slant, and a quick scan showed her shoe had a built-up sole to compensate for one leg being shorter than the other. Despite obviously living with some sort of disability, the woman who appeared to be around my age beamed as brightly as a noon sun reflecting off the waters of the Gulf. Intuition told me she was not SapphicLover69.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked with a hand on the back of the chair next to mine.

My only desire was to crawl into a corner and wallow in my misery, not to be cheered up by a good faerie, yet I found her presence so compelling I couldn't say no.

"Sure." I donned my social fa?ade and pretended I wasn't the target of a psychotic's vindictive wrath. "Yeah, I needed some air. Aspen Wolfe," I introduced myself pleasantly and extended a hand.

What her pudgy grip lacked in strength it made up for in electromagnetism. Maybe my faerie analogy hadn't been so far-fetched after all.

"Elaine Parker. Nice to meet you."

I recognized the name. She wrote small-town and urban fantasies featuring witches and magic users of all varieties. Her books were especially popular with the YA crowd and received mostly positive reviews.

"It's a pleasure meeting you too," I responded before returning my hand to the table in front of me. "So, where are you from?"

"Bedford, Pennsylvania," she answered, her cheery expression remaining in place. "It's about halfway between Harrisburg and Pittsburgh, so, naturally, I'm a Steelers and Pirates fan. What about you?"

"Gulfport, Florida, which would be fabulous if not for the insanity that is Florida politics. Isn't one of your books a finalist?"

If it were possible, her smile increased in brilliance. "Yes! The Magic We Make is up for the Young Adult category. I'm surprised you noticed."

My brow furrowed, and I tilted my head at her. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh," she said dismissively and waved a hand at me. "Romance authors don't usually pay attention to us lesser beings." She laughed in self-deprecation.

A thought occurred to me. Maybe trying to be sexy and picture-perfect came with a downside. I didn't want the other writers to think I was a snob.

With a playful smirk, I responded, "I occasionally step off my pedestal long enough to recognize the existence of paranormal and young adult peons. But really, I don't know many people here and am not above making new friends. What presentations are you planning to attend?"

"Yours, for sure," Elaine answered bashfully, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. "Not that I write graphic love scenes, but I am curious."

"Oh, you don't have to write graphic details for a love scene to send heat through the reader," I assured her. "There's more than one way to catch a fish." I gave her a look of appreciation. There was not even a hint of attraction brewing in me, and not because she wasn't a total fox. I just got more of a sister vibe from her—way too wholesome and vulnerable. And yet she was the one who had arrived to grant me comfort. "But more on that topic tomorrow afternoon."

"Yes, well, I hope so," she concluded before changing the subject. "What I mostly came for is to take the Haunted New Orleans tour, visit a voodoo shop, and collect information and inspiration for a new book. I was looking at the brochures in the hotel lobby, and there's a walking tour from eight to ten o'clock tomorrow night that starts at a voodoo shop, so two birds with one stone. Have you ever been?"

"I've been to New Orleans but not on a haunted tour. It sounds like it would be fascinating."

"Great! I'm looking for people to come with me because I don't relish the idea of walking back from the French Quarter that late at night."

Dare I resist the hopeful look in her eyes? While there wasn't a conference function tomorrow evening—specifically so participants could spend the night on Bourbon Street or wherever—I had hoped to hook up with the "in" crowd of top-ranked romance authors. I had to undo the damage to my reputation caused by my stupid stalker. Although now that I knew she was here, there was a genuine possibility one of them was SapphicLover69. Maybe it wasn't about rage over a fantasy breakup from a relationship we never had. It could be a jealous ploy to gaslight me and keep herself on top. In that case, either Selina Fowlerton or A.J. Taylor could be moonlighting as a trouble-making fan. Going out with Elaine might be the safest thing to do tomorrow night.

"There you are!" declared Winter as she strode up to our table and crossed her arms with a miffed expression. "Tammy and Beth are worried about you, and they sent me to find you. Oh, hi, Elaine."

"Heya, baby girl." Elaine turned her sunny smile on Winter. "I saw Aspen come out here alone and thought I'd check on her. She's not pale anymore."

Geez, how many people noticed me flee the lounge? And what are they all thinking about me? That crazy erotica author is having a breakdown—can't handle the pressure. They'll all want to show up for my masterclass just to watch me fall flat on my face!

"I'm OK," I muttered and slumped my shoulders.

Winter commandeered the chair on my other side and stared at me with empathy. "Tammy said you got a text from that detestable SapphicLover69. I blocked her right after the first nasty thing she said about you." The comical outrage returned to her face with her bottom lip puffed out in a pout. Though a smile formed in my heart, straining to be let free, I subdued it. I didn't want her to think I was laughing at her. She was just so damn cute—a tiny lion rushing to my rescue. "There's no reason for her to attack you that way."

"Oh," Elaine said in realization. For the first time, her cheerful countenance darkened. "I thought that was finally over."

"So did I." I suppose everyone in the sapphic reading world had heard about the debacle with Aspen Wolfe and SapphicLover69. Some ignored it, while others found it entertaining. A few took her side, and others took mine. Tammy told me her rants peaked right after I deleted Aspen's accounts, but they died down and vanished when I didn't come back online to read or respond to them.

The next thing I knew, Beth had wheeled in across from me and Tammy loomed over my shoulder like a fierce protector. "We aren't fixin' to let you out of our sight all weekend," she vowed in a voice that could have come from Sam Houston himself. "No nut case is about to harm our Aspen."

"Now you don't worry about a thing, sweetheart," Beth cooed. "Just focus on selling lots of books and giving a fabulous presentation tomorrow."

"Coward won't even say her peace to your face," Winter brooded.

"Listen, the comedy show will start soon," Elaine reminded us. "I think it's just the thing to get our minds off a negative person whose goal is to stop you from having a good time here. A night of carefree laughter will foil her evil plan."

I couldn't help but laugh. I'd come here to mingle with glamorous best-sellers and here I was on the island of misfit toys. Still, my inner voice told me this felt right, and that I was exactly where—and with whom—I should be. Surely this crazed fan or envious foe would show herself tomorrow in the gallery. I would study every person who walked through the room to determine my adversary's identity. Then I'd press her for her motives and apologize if I'd done anything to offend her.

"Elaine, you're absolutely right," I agreed and pushed myself up on steady legs. "By the way, guys, if you're sticking with me all weekend, be advised there's a Haunted New Orleans walking tour tomorrow night that Elaine invited me on."

"The one from the voodoo shop on Royal Street?" Tammy asked with interest flickering in her eyes.

"Yep," Elaine chirped with a grin as she and Winter rose to join us.

"It's right around the corner from the Gumbo Shop, Beth," Tammy said. "We'll all eat there first and walk around the Quarter if there's time. But we'll need to buy our tickets in advance, just in case. There's a limit to how large a group they'll take."

"I'll reserve the tickets," Elaine volunteered as she pulled out her phone. "Laugh tonight, get the chills tomorrow night. What could be better?"

Not having to worry about a stalker ruining my life, I thought as I broadcast an amiable smile and thanked my lucky stars for friends.