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  “The fans!” Hatsy said impatiently. “Happily Ever After has standards to uphold. We have traditions!”

  Trust me, Penelope already knew the tradition, but Hatsy reminded her anyway. The Hall of Fame induction ceremony always begins with an hour of preinduction festivities, wherein fans and well-wishers get a chance to meet and greet the inductees.

  “You arrive at nine,” Hatsy said. “And the official ceremony starts at ten. Any questions?”

  “Yes,” Penelope said. “Why do I need to be here so early?”

  Chapter 7

  Wilson helped Zelda from her chair, and the two of them led the way. But clearly the Glee Club had not coordinated their efforts. While Hatsy worked to shoo everyone out, both her cousins did a great job blocking the only exit.

  Patsy held her roll of pink raffle tickets aloft for the swarms to see, and Batsy announced this and that about hotcakes and purchasing tickets while the weekend was still young. Indeed, the crowd was moving slowly enough even before Geez Louise decided to help.

  “Here he is, ladies!” She pointed to Wilson. “In the flesh. And what fantastical flesh it is! Fantastical, fantastical, fantastical!”

  “Inspect the goods and buy your tickets!” Batsy got into the spirit. “Get ’em while they’re hot!”

  “Hot, hot, hot!” Louise said, and some of the more champagne-infused of the crowd began chanting, “Hot, hot, hot!”

  Call me a coward, but I was happy to be standing a few feet behind my husband, where it was physically impossible for him to reach out and strangle me.

  No great surprise, Roger Hollingsworth was displeased also. He muttered his standard “vulgar, indecent, and crude,” and while Patsy sold a whole slew of tickets to Mia Madison, he grabbed his wife’s arm and somehow managed to get the two of them through the doorway.

  Bless her old but still-beating heart, Zelda was in no such hurry. “I’ll take a dozen!” she said and slapped Wilson’s chest with her evening bag. “This man is the perfect paramour, and I should know, ladies. I just had dinner with him.”

  She began fiddling with her purse, but she had some trouble with the clasp and none other than the raffle prize himself helped her find her cash.

  Lucky me, Tori Fister took full advantage of the delay. She elbowed her way in for a landing next to yours truly and yanked me back. “I need to talk to you,” she said urgently.

  “No.” I spoke just as urgently, but Penelope Shay was her usual helpful self and actually shoved me a step closer to Tori.

  “Your turn!” she chirped.

  Gavin and Mykal also abandoned me. And Wilson, the guy who had vowed to protect me, was still busy with Zelda.

  I practiced some deep breathing and resigned myself to the inevitable.

  “If you were my client, I would never embarrass your husband like that.” Roaring Tori pointed, but proof that there is a God in heaven, Zelda finally got her raffle tickets.

  As the crowd started moving again, my instinct was to make a break for it and run. But I was still following Wilson, who was still escorting Zelda at a fairly slow pace. Tori’s death grip on my right elbow also held me at bay.

  “Daydream Desires will pay top dollar for your latest,” she told me. “We know all about Shimmering Silk.”

  I yanked my arm away. “How do you know about Shimmering Silk?” I snapped.

  “Batsy filled me in. The Sahara Desert!” Tori clapped her hands. “Just think of the visuals! Double D and I can land you movie rights for this one, Adelé. We can go places together!”

  Right then I was rather hoping Tori Fister and I would not be going into the elevator together. In desperation, I reached out with both hands and pulled Wilson back. And bless his heart, Gavin appeared out of nowhere and offered to escort Zelda to her room.

  Zelda blew a kiss to Wilson, Mykal grabbed Tori’s elbow, and a very audible sigh of relief escaped me as everyone disappeared into the elevator.

  Wilson blinked at the closed doors. “I feel like I should protect Zelda from Tori,” he said.

  “No worries,” I said. “Zelda may be a little unsteady on her feet, but she’s worked with Tori for years. I doubt she needs a bodyguard.”

  “What about Gavin and Mykal?”

  “Gavin knows the Roaring Tori shuffle.” I explained the system we 3P authors had used for years. “We take turns dealing with Tori. Right now it’s Gavin’s turn.” I cringed. “Although I wouldn’t put it past her to be waiting outside Room 422 when we get there.”

  “Well then, let’s not go there.” He grinned. “They have a pool table in this joint?”

  ***

  “I’ve never played in a tux before,” Wilson said as I steered us past the lobby and through the bar. He pointed to my outfit. “But I’m sure you’ve dressed for the occasion—back in the day.”

  Well, yes. Back in the day I put myself through college sharking at a pool table.

  “When I was thirty years younger, outfits like this were an excellent way to beat the pants off my opponents,” I said.

  “You would have won anyway. I’m surprised you’re not in the Pool Sharks Hall of Fame.”

  I giggled and told him there is no such thing. “Although it would be fun to have my name in there with Daddy’s—Cue-It Hewitt and Little Girl Cue-It.”

  Wilson stopped short. “It’s not normal.”

  “It was your idea.”

  “No, Jessie. That.” He pointed to the pool table. “That is not normal.”

  No, but it was rather sweet. Bless her heart, Hatsy had decorated the pool table. Pink streamers cascaded to the floor at every corner and a vase of pink flowers stood in the middle.

  Wilson picked them up and looked around, and almost dropped the vase when he noticed the Happily Ever After conference headquarters to his right. “Please tell me no one’s gonna pop out of there with a roll of raffle tickets.”

  I promised he was safe. “They’ve locked up for the night.”

  He cast a wary glance at the closed door and set the flowers on a nearby bistro table while I racked the balls.

  “You plan on beating the pants off me?” Wilson asked.

  “I always do,” I sang.

  ***

  “These Happily Ever After people are scarier than their decorations,” Wilson informed me as he took aim. His break was fairly good, but nothing dropped.

  “The hotel staff calls us the pink people.” I assessed the table and shot in the one ball. “Okay, so who’s the scariest?”

  “Roaring Tori,” he said without hesitation. “She makes Geez Louise look tame.”

  I shot the four into the far left pocket and agreed that Tori seemed even more aggressive than usual. “She can’t stand it that three of this year’s five inductees are with Louise and 3P.”

  “Her enemies.”

  I warned him Tori would be bugging me all weekend. “And Gavin, and Penelope.” I made a halfhearted attempt at the five ball and missed.

  “So let me get this straight.” Wilson stepped up to take a shot. “Tori cheated you out of the Hall of Fame last time, but now that you’re finally getting in she wants to be your buddy?”

  “She wants to be my agent.”

  “She has nerve,” he said as the twelve ball fell.

  I shrugged and reminded him Louise was doing nearly the same thing. “She’ll be trying to entice Tori’s clients over to 3P all weekend. It’s all in fun.”

  “Yep, it’s one big happy fairy tale.” Wilson missed the fourteen. “I heard Tori talking to you about Slippery Silk, Jessie. She could steal your ideas.”

  “Oh, please.” I took aim and the seven disappeared. “Other than knowing the correct title—which clearly you don’t—Tori knows nothing.”

  “She’s slippery,” Wilson insisted.

  I used one of my signature bank shots to pocket the two, and we moved on to discuss my fellow inductees. No big surprise, Wilson loved Zelda, and he had also enjoyed meeting Gavin and Mykal.

  “Faith seemed
okay, too,” he said. “But what about Penelope? I can’t believe she writes humor.”

  “Ironic, no?” I said as the six ball fell. I took haphazard aim for the three, missed, and stood up. “Penelope is always in a foul mood about some nonexistent problem. And right now she’s on a diet, which seems to be compounding her—” I searched for a polite word “—witchiness.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” Wilson mumbled and took aim at the fifteen ball. “Roger Hollingsworth isn’t on a diet,” he said as it disappeared. “What’s his excuse?”

  I described the Hollingsworths as best I could. Evidently Roger attended Happily Ever After every year only to make sure Faith wouldn’t enjoy herself. “He sticks close to her and complains incessantly.”

  “Might explain why he turned down my invitation.” Wilson missed the thirteen.

  “You invited him to the golf course?” I asked in shock. “That was very gracious of you.”

  I shot in the seven, and Wilson admitted he hadn’t been all that disappointed when Roger refused.

  “He said he doesn’t golf and doesn’t intend to learn from the likes of me.”

  I shook my head and took aim at the three. “Let me guess. Roger disapproves of your Paramour for a Day gig?”

  “Called it vulgar and indecent.”

  “And don’t forget crude.” The three fell, and I stood up. “I hope you didn’t let Roger get to you.”

  “Heck, no. He helped your cause. He talked me into it with all that holier than thou garbage.”

  I called the eight ball. “Geez Louise calls Roger a fuddy-duddy.”

  “That guy put the fuddy into duddy,” Wilson said, and the eight ball disappeared.

  Chapter 8

  Maurice stared at Slipper Vervette. More accurately, the camel stared at Slipper’s parasol. Maurice had never before seen a parasol.

  Slipper Vervette stared at the tent Conrad Montjoy was erecting for her. More accurately, she stared at Conrad Montjoy. Slipper had never before slept in a tent, but Mr. Montjoy promised the whistling winds of the Saharan night would lull her into a most restful slumber.

  He struggled with one of the ties, and the muscles along his torso rippled underneath his lightweight shirt.

  Slipper tilted her parasol to hide her blush, and Maurice shook his head.

  ***

  “You should get ready, Jessie.” Wilson stood in the doorway of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him. “You don’t want to be late.”

  “Hatsy would kill me,” I agreed, but I stayed in bed and kept staring at my computer screen. “How does dehydration affect libido?”

  “Say what?”

  I tapped the screen. “As night falls over the Sahara, Conrad Montjoy has set up two tents, one for himself and one for Slipper. But the poor man can’t sleep for worrying about Barney Splawn, who most assuredly is lurking just behind the next sand dune, ready to kidnap the young lady the second he—that’s Conrad—succumbs to sleep.” I sighed dramatically. “So Conrad lay awake, listening to the dulcet sounds of the lovely Slipper whilst she slumbers.”

  Wilson groaned. “I need to shave.”

  He turned back to the sink, and I closed my laptop. But I remained on topic as I slipped off my pajamas and stepped into the shower. “So?” I asked. “Is it too farfetched that Conrad would feel frisky in all the heat?”

  “Since when do any of your heroes have a problem with frisky?” Wilson asked the shower curtain.

  Good point. I apologized for my temporary lapse as I found the shampoo. “My concentration isn’t all it should be, what with the induction fast approaching.”

  “You and Conrad need to relax,” Wilson told me. “Let the guy have himself a heavy duty fantasy while Skipper snores.”

  “Slipper!” I poked my head out of the shower. “Slipper Vervette does not snore!”

  “Whatever you say, Adelé.”

  ***

  “See you at the induction,” Wilson called out.

  “What?” I grabbed a towel and walked out to the bedroom where he was rummaging on the dresser for a key card. “What about breakfast?” I asked.

  “No time.”

  “Excuse me? You never miss a free meal. What’s up?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “You don’t like surprises,” I said as he gave me a quick kiss. “Only yesterday you scolded me about surprises.”

  “But this is a good surprise,” he said and hurried out.

  I blinked at the closed door. A good surprise?

  ***

  “Where’s Wilson?” Gavin and Mykal asked as Hatsy Glee hustled me onto the stage.

  “More importantly, where’s Penelope?” she demanded. “It’s 9:02.”

  No one had seen Penelope, but then again, the stage was so crowded with decorations we might have missed her. While we inductees had gotten our beauty sleep, Hatsy had transformed the mundane platform into a veritable pink wonderland.

  Each inductee had an assigned place along a rectangular table, but there were so many pink streamers, pink balloons, pink ribbons, and pink bows, it was almost impossible to see our nameplates. To avoid confusion, Hatsy had placed a poster of each author’s latest masterpiece behind the assigned seats. But the tripods took up a lot of space, as did the trophy table, where the centerpiece arrangement from our dinner table the previous night had been reconstructed.

  “It’s beautiful,” Zelda said, and everyone but Roger agreed.

  “It’s vulgar, indecent, and crude,” he muttered.

  “I’ll tell you what’s indecent,” Hatsy said. “Tardiness!” She held her hand to her forehead, as if looking across the miles, and scanned the room. The dinner tables were gone, and in their place sat row upon row of chairs for the Hall of Fame audience.

  “Where is Penelope?” Hatsy asked again. “And where is Charm?” She pointed to the podium. “I wanted everything just so.”

  “Well then, lets the rest of us stay on schedule,” Batsy called over from where she and her sister were guarding the doors.

  “Can we open up?” Patsy asked.

  We inductees took a communal deep breath, Hatsy said something about killing Penelope if she ever did decide to make an appearance, and Batsy opened the doors.

  ***

  Mykal skedaddled away as the first of the fans made it to the stage. But the swarming crowd had the opposite effect on Roger. He claimed his wife needed protection and positioned himself squarely in the way, as did Geez Louise and Roaring Tori. Indeed, Tori Fister stood front and center in order to pester Gavin and me about all that Double D could offer us.

  Oh well. Geez Louise was doing the same at the other end of the table—trying to entice Zelda and Faith over to 3P.

  “Everyone’s heard how Roberto treated you last spring.” Tori gave up on Gavin to focus on me. “I understand he almost didn’t renew your contract. The man is such a hot head!”

  “Later,” I said firmly. I reached around her to shake some hands and accept various and sundry congratulations.

  Tori, of course, continued, “Daydream Desires would never treat an author of your caliber so shabbily!”

  “This is not the time,” I said between clenched teeth.

  “When will be the time?” Tori elbowed one of my more petite fans away and was reminding me of that supposed movie option for Shimmering Silk, when Roslynn Mayweather came by.

  “Movie rights?” Roslynn’s eyes got wide. “Oh, Adelé!”

  I folded my arms and glared until my protégée got the hint. “Oh,” she said. “Umm, I’m sure Geez Louise is the best person to pursue that kind of opportunity, right?”

  “Right!” Maxine Carlisle, my longtime friend and colleague, and a rather large woman, shooed Roslynn out of the way and leaned over the table toward me. “I can get rid of Tori, too,” she said. “I can knock her right off this stage.”

  I asked her not to tempt me, and Maxine pretended to be disappointed.

  “Well then, I better go sit down. God
knows I take up way too much room.” She raised an arm to separate the crowd and disappeared.

  Oh, but there was Adam Sheppard.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” I asked him.

  He promised me no one would miss him for a few minutes. “I had to take a break to congratulate my favorite author.” He, too, leaned in. “I can push Tori off the stage if you want.”

  “Don’t tempt me—”

  “What is this?” Penelope Shay asked, and I glanced up from Adam.

  “It’s your turn,” I answered and tilted my head toward Tori. “The shuffle, remember?”

  “Yeah, right.” Penelope told me she had more than adequately filled that dance card already. “The woman won’t take no for an answer.”

  As if to prove the point, Tori started in on Penelope.

  “I’ve told you over and over again, I’m not interested!” Penelope said.

  “But our discussions have gone so well. You said—”

  “Stop!” Penelope snapped. “Can you not see I have other concerns? What is this?”

  “Good question.” Hatsy had come up from behind her. “You’re late.”

  Penelope spun around. “I told you last night I wouldn’t get here early for this nonsense.” She indicated a few fans, and Gavin and I tried to compensate by smiling extrabrightly.

  “Well, you’re here now,” Hatsy said. “So all is well.”

  “No! All is not well. There’s a problem!”

  “What else is new?” Gavin asked, but Penelope kept on going.

  She pointed to her spot at the end of the table. “Why do I always get the short end of the stick? Why am I always last?”

  While poor Hatsy stared at the place cards, Tori stepped forward to roar some more. “If you were my client,” she said, “I’d make sure you always got the best seat.” She waved to Zelda and Faith. “Notice where my clients are stationed? Closest to the Cupids. First in line for their awards.”

  Hatsy rolled her eyes. “Try again.” She waved to the line of nameplates along the table. “We’re in alphabetical order—Zelda Bell, Faith Hollingsworth, Gavin McClure, Adelé Nightingale, and Penelope Shay. My system has nothing to do with publisher, or literary agent.”