by Cynthia Kuhn
“No question.” He finished the rest of his drink and set the empty glass down on the floor.
“How?” I might as well jump in with both feet.
“Have you read them?”
“Not yet,” I admitted, while Calista shook her head. “But I will.”
“They’re extremely critical. They said I’m doing all of these things that I most certainly am not doing, and they missed all of the important things that I am doing.”
“I understand that it might be strange to read essays about your work,” Calista said. “But it’s called criticism for a reason.”
He laughed. “Very funny. But you and I both know that literary analysis doesn’t tend to skewer the author.”
“Sometimes it does, though,” I said, mentally lining up examples to share.
“Not like this.” Flynn put his palms up in resistance. “These are beyond. Way beyond.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, please, but I felt for those poor scholars,” Calista said.
“And the editors,” I added.
“What do you mean?” He spoke quickly, his eyebrows drawing together in displeasure.
Calista played with a loose thread on her dress. “Just that you devastated them in front of the entire conference.”
Flynn pursed his lips. “Well, they were devastating me in front of the entire world. None of the reviews were even half as bad as what those scholars wrote. I felt attacked.”
“Do you know any of the contributors?” I asked, taking the opportunity to push a little further. “Do you feel that it was personal?”
“No. That’s not what I meant. But I’d classify them as willful misreading.” He appeared genuinely upset. “You’ll see when you read them.”
“Did you think the editors are to blame, then?” As long as he would answer, I’d keep asking questions.
“I was thrilled that they even wanted to do the book in the first place. But when I read it...” Flynn shook his head. “It felt as though they had intentionally set me up. Strung me along. Told me how much they thought I’d love the essays. All the while knowing what they were going to publish. And don’t forget, they chose those. Specifically. So the editors shaped the entire tone.”
Calista frowned. “Is it possible that your response has to do with your expectations? Perhaps you expected them to say how great you are, like your fans do every day, and you were surprised when they didn’t?”
“It’s not that either, though I have to say, that theory sounds a bit condescending.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” Calista smiled at him. “Ever since dinner, it’s all we can think about. I’m throwing things out to see what sticks to the wall. Just tell us: What exactly did they get wrong?”
Our host looked at something behind us and sighed. “You know what? It doesn’t matter anymore. I said what I needed to say, and in a few weeks, I’ll be done worrying about higher education altogether. I’m out of Fairlake. I need to focus on the series. And luckily, my readers get me. The general population won’t be the least bit interested in buying into what some ivory tower analysis is selling. They appreciate me.”
Calista nodded, then downed the rest of her drink in one fell swoop.
“Have you spoken to any of your colleagues?” I asked, trying to bring the conversation around to Ellis.
“Well, there’s one right there,” he said, smiling at Selene.
She smiled back prettily.
He returned his attention to me. “But otherwise, no. Not since dinner.”
“I meant before tonight—did they know you were unhappy with the guide?”
“Ellis did.”
I tried to keep my facial expression neutral. “How did he know?”
“I emailed him. It was a comprehensive explanation of the issues with a plea for him to take action. But he must not have cared about that because he never wrote me back.”
“Did you try again to tell him at the conference?”
“Well, there wasn’t much of a chance, was there?” He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so interested? I’m starting to feel like you’re implying something.”
“I’m not implying anything. Just trying to figure out what’s going on.”
“Why?”
“Lila’s a sleuth!” Calista said happily, then hiccupped.
“Ah.” Flynn gave me an appraising look.
“It’s true,” Calista insisted. “She has solved many crimes.”
I stared at her. “I wouldn’t say—”
Flynn cut me off. “That may be so, but this is not a game of Clue. Ellis was my colleague. Those of us who knew him are genuinely grieving.” His face went smooth, like a shutter closing, and his tone went flat. “And for the record, I’m not a murderer.”
I nodded. “Sorry. No one is accusing you of anything. Probably time for us to go, Cal,” I said firmly, pulling her up and leading her away from the couch.
“I’m sorry,” Calista whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that. Also, I think I may have had too many drinks.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Let’s just go.”
I thanked Flynn for the party as we circled the ottoman.
He didn’t respond.
“Speaking of your series, how many more books will you be writing?” Selene rested her elbows on her knees, all glowing anticipation. “Don’t think I’ve mentioned this, but I truly adore your books, Flynn. I’ve read them all at least five times.”
Flynn sat forward abruptly. “No kidding? That’s fabulous. Which do you prefer?”
“The Cave of the Sibyl. No question. The Prophetess may be my favorite character ever written.”
He tucked a wayward strand behind his ear. “She appeared to me in a dream, you know.”
“How fascinating.” Selene slipped off of the sofa and onto the ottoman next to him. They tipped their heads closely together and were lost to the rest of us almost immediately.
Simone stretched gracefully like a cat. “I think I’ll call it a night. We have our little panel tomorrow. Need to be at our best, don’t we, to show those judges who should win?” She winked at me.
I took note of her confidence. She wasn’t worried about me at all.
As usual.
Chapter 10
Lex was seated at the desk in my room when I returned, flipping through papers. He greeted me absently, but when I sat down on the bed, he moved over quickly.
“How was your night?”
I gave him a detailed description of the whole dinner fiasco and after-party.
He listened closely. “What do you make of all that?”
I took off my earrings and bounced them in my hand while I thought. “There’s something strange about that book. First, one of the editors is killed, then the subject of the book he edited rises up unexpectedly and takes everyone who has been involved with it to task in front of the world.”
“I concur.”
“We need to read the whole thing tonight and figure out what is hidden among its pages.”
Waving at the desk, he gave me a regretful smile. “See that pile over there? I have to work on those reports, so you’re on your own.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You manifested some reports to get out of doing your homework?”
“I thought we settled that earlier, remember? Reading is your superpower.”
“And filling out reports is yours?”
“Evidently. And rather pathetically, come to think of it.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and resettled himself at the desk, patting the cover of the book that rested on the corner.
I ignored the gesture and went to brush my teeth first, then changed into sweats and a Stonedale University t-shirt. At least I was going to be comfy during my readathon.
The next morning
, I woke with a start when the hotel phone rang. I shot a look at the clock, which read seven a.m. Thank goodness I’d put in a standing order for a wake-up call, as I hadn’t set my alarm.
Lex was gone, but he’d left a note on the desk that said he’d text me later.
How romantic.
I took a quick shower and dressed in my professor clothes. Over the years, I’d developed a three-part uniform—a black cotton shirt with black pants or skirt beneath a more formal piece. I could be professional but comfortable in a minute or less without having to spend a lot of thought on the matter other than selecting which jacket or blazer to wear—the choices in my closet ranged from ornately embroidered to monochromatic. Today’s was vaguely Victorian: long but nipped in at the waist, with two rows of silver decorative buttons shining against the dark jacquard. After pulling on socks and lace-up ankle boots, I topped the whole thing off with chandelier earrings and called it done.
As I packed my bag for the day, I eyed the critical guide on the nightstand. I’d made it through the introduction and first three sections: biography, essays, and interviews; however, I hadn’t had a chance to look at the photographs yet. They weren’t what I was most concerned with, anyway, so I was going to count it as having completed my homework.
More or less.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that I hadn’t seen anything in there that might shed light on who might have it out for Ellis. And I couldn’t figure out exactly what Flynn was up in arms about, either—unless it was a refusal to accept anything less than pure adoration. Maybe he was a perfectionist. Maybe he was overly sensitive. Or maybe he was delusional. In any case, he hadn’t handled things well. The introduction written by the editors praised Flynn’s work enthusiastically, which made me feel even worse about the way he’d dissed them in public.
My cell phone chirped, and I accepted the call to find Acadia on the other end of the line. She asked me if I would run up to Flynn’s room—no one had seen him yet this morning, and he wasn’t answering his phone.
“He is supposed to host our Breakfast with the Author event.” She paused. “Which I wish we’d never scheduled, in retrospect.”
“You didn’t know what he would do last night,” I said, soothingly, unplugging my charging cord from the socket and rolling it up neatly.
“I still can’t believe it. I spent half the night responding to irate emails from numerous attendees.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, it goes with the job.” Acadia paused. “Interestingly, there were almost as many emails praising our choice of keynote...”
That surprised me.
“...though I suppose it’s not that unexpected. There are evaluation challenges for individuals built into the structure of higher education, after all. He seems to have put his finger on the pulse of something. I just wish he hadn’t done it in such a public way. Or during our conference.” She sighed. “Actually, you know what, Lila? I don’t even know what I think anymore. Is this conference going to be famous or infamous? Did Flynn put us on or wipe us off of the academic map? And, by the way, are you as exhausted as I am?”
“Yes, I’m—”
“Whew. Okay. Let’s focus. Could you please go check on him right now? Tell him to get downstairs as soon as possible? I’m in the lobby. Sorry to interrupt your plans, but breakfast starts at eight, and I need to go over a few things with him first.”
Despite a twinge of trepidation, I accepted my quest as Committee Member On Duty and ran up the stairs and over to Flynn’s suite. It didn’t matter if he was unhappy to see me. This was my job.
The hallway was quiet, though I could hear showers running and scraps of conversations as I passed different rooms. Just before I reached my destination at the end of the hallway, the dark wood door opened and Selene Raleigh tiptoed out.
In the same stained olive-green suit as she’d been wearing the night before.
With a raging case of bedhead.
She caught sight of me and froze. Then she tried to unobtrusively press down her hair in the back under the guise of fiddling with her nametag cord. We both knew she’d been caught in the act of sneaking out, but she nodded as if she were a queen greeting a visiting diplomat. “Good morning, Lila.”
“Good morning, Selene.” I smiled and stepped aside.
“I was just chatting with Flynn about his keynote speech,” she informed me, as she began to pass.
“Ah. How kind.”
“Yes. Always happy to help out a colleague.” She lifted her chin and started to sweep away, but stopped and turned back, with narrowed eyes. “Wait. What are you doing here?”
“Official conference business,” I said.
She waited.
“Sworn to secrecy, I’m afraid.”
“Fine.” She exhaled heavily and flounced away. “See you at the panel,” she threw over her shoulder, haughtily.
I put my hand against the door just before it closed all the way and knocked briskly.
“Come in.”
When I stepped inside the dark room, Flynn was stirring a cup of coffee. “Hello, lover. Back for more? I’m game.” He set the spoon down on the counter and looked up as he took a sip of the steaming liquid. Like Selene, he froze, then tried to act like nothing had happened.
He tightened the towel around his waist while I attempted to look anywhere but at his washboard abs. “Morning, Lila. What can I do for you?”
“Acadia sent me to collect you for the breakfast event.”
“Right. I’m on my way. Just need to throw on some clothes—it’ll only take a minute. Make yourself comfortable.” He disappeared down one of the hallways.
I hadn’t planned to escort him, but I might as well make sure he found his way to Acadia. Perching on one of the armless dining chairs, I stared out the window at the mountains. Then I popped up again and went over to the fireplace. Might as well have a look, though I knew I didn’t have much time. Glasses were sitting on every conceivable surface, and the room reeked of alcohol. I longed to scoop everything up, just to restore some order, but it wasn’t my space to maintain.
I scanned all the surfaces and didn’t find anything of interest.
Until I came upon a note, written in red ink, sticking out from under a laptop. The handwriting swooped and soared across the page. I read it quickly:
We need to talk. Call me as soon as you wake up. It’s urgent.
“Ready?” Flynn strolled into the room, clad in another one of his flowy-shirt-and-rock-star-pant combos. I crumpled the note in my hand and tried to look innocent.
“After you,” I said, slipping the note into my pocket when he turned around.
We moved down the hallway quietly. As we waited for the elevator, he cleared his throat. “Hey, sorry if I was rude last night. The whole evening was very emotional for me. I was all over the place.”
“I understand. Thanks. I hope today is more relaxing.”
He smiled as a soft ping announced the elevator’s arrival. Once we were inside and the doors closed, I was wrapped in a cloud of mint.
“Is that mint scent from the hotel soap?” If so, they were stocking the VIP suite with a whole different product. The tiny bottles in my room had smelled like an odd blend of oranges and bubble gum.
“I don’t use soap,” he said.
Ewww. Why would he tell me that?
“It’s a special liquid cleanser that my natural grocer sells.”
“Ah.”
“Fancy a product demonstration?” He delivered this with a wolfish grin while scanning me up and down. “I’d love to lather you up.”
Double ewww.
I returned what I hoped was a withering look. “Flynn, mere moments ago, I bumped into someone walking out of your hotel room. How can you even think that—”
“Sorry.” He winced.
“Sometimes I can’t turn it off.”
“What do you mean?”
He shifted his weight and studied the floor. “I’m a total introvert. When I have to do the public author thing, the only way I can handle it is by sort of becoming this other...person.”
“Well, that other person doesn’t have to be a creeper.”
“I know. It’s like I’m not even aware I’m doing it.”
“Are you talking about another personality?”
“More like a persona.”
I stared at him.
“Look, the books got popular so fast that everything went a little out of control. The public relations people and press constructed me as a player. Then they encouraged me to embrace it. For social media purposes. They think it sells books. You know, action hero gets the girl—” He lifted the heavy silver pendant hanging from a cord around his neck and let it fall backwards so that it hit his chest with a thud, as if he were punishing himself. “Ugh. It doesn’t even make sense. I’m not the action hero. I’m just the writer.”
He swung the pendant again. “Sometimes I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m truly sorry.”
“I appreciate the context.”
“And, by the way, it’s not what you think with Selene. I’m not that kind of guy, no matter what you’ve heard about me.”
Or what he’d orchestrated himself as part of his author act? “But the—”
The elevator doors pinged and opened. Acadia was waiting to bustle him off to the breakfast. She thanked me and led Flynn away before he could say anything else.
Shortly afterwards, I was seated with Nate and Calista at a corner table. I had marched into The Path’s End restaurant intending to order oatmeal, but somehow my order translated itself to go with the flow after my friends had ordered waffles.
How does that happen, anyway? If someone could figure out how to keep one’s willpower on a leash, they’d be a gazillionaire.
“Sleep well, all?” I poured butter pecan syrup over the golden squares in front of me. They smelled heavenly.
They both nodded, mouths full, chewing happily.
