The Write Man

by Lisa Ricard Claro

  Nick chuckled and considered his response. He began tapping the letters until he remembered that he had intended those messages last night to be his last. He backspaced and began again.

  Ms. Sunjoy: One through six, well-stated and duly noted. Thank you for always playing nice even when I cross the line. Please accept my appreciation for weeks of delightful wordplay. Sorry if I came across as a bully, but I am a pirate, after all. Wishing you bountiful silver linings, sweet lady. Respectfully, Scurvy Rickets.

  Nick stared at his response and sighed. The pirate in him rolled his eyes, groaned, and urged him to revise the message with something that had a little bite to it.

  He supposed he’d end up with some disappointed Team Rickets members, but there was no help for it. He had to end this social media nonsense, and he was convinced that giving Merry the clear win was the way to do it. Even taking out of the equation the fact that he wanted to continue a relationship with her, knowing his comments and digs had honestly bothered her was enough to convince the gentleman in him to end the silly banter and let her take the win.

  He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he hated to lose, hated to go out with what amounted to a whimper. But Merry hadn’t started this back-and-forth idiocy, he had. He owed it to her to step back now.

  His inner pirate bashed him for being pussy whipped, for letting down Team Rickets, for taking the easy way out.

  Nick hesitated, battling with himself.

  He posted the comment on Merry’s blog, then clicked over to Twitter where he responded to her go pound sand tweet. He pictured her face when she read his response, because there was no doubt she would put two and two together. He prayed she’d understand that, given his contract restrictions, he was telling her the truth about his alter ego the only way he knew how.

  And he hoped it would be enough.

  Chapter 11

  Merry’s cell rang and her tummy pinched when she saw her agent’s name on her phone. She heard from Walter Weiderman so rarely that seeing it now, after business hours, shot her anxiety up. There was no reason for him to be calling that she could think of, unless he was planning to dump her as a client.

  “For someone who always sees the sunny side of the street, you sure are being negative,” scolded Skyblossom. “Get a grip already.”

  “Right,” Merry murmured. She spit toothpaste into the sink and wiped her mouth on a towel before answering her phone. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Merry. Walter Weiderman here. Sorry to be calling so late. Are you still in Florida, perchance?”

  “No problem, Walter. It isn’t that late,” Merry said, but she was already wearing her Tinkerbell pajamas. She went into the guestroom and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m actually in Asheville, but I’m returning to Florida tomorrow morning. Is there a problem?”

  “No, no, not at all. I’ve learned of a signing at a bookstore in Naples, and I wanted to try to get you in on it. Last minute, I know, but your nemesis is going to be there, and I thought it would be great for sales to have the two of you signing books at the same time. You’d be limited to what the store has in stock, but—”

  “My nemesis?”

  “Scurvy Rickets. I had an opportunity to speak with his agent and—”

  “Scurvy Rickets is going to be in Naples? Tomorrow?” Merry pressed her hand to her stomach and sat down. “What time?”

  “Eleven to two,” Walter said. “Any chance you can be there to sign books with him?”

  “No,” Merry said, biting her lip.

  “Too bad, but I knew it was a long shot when I asked. Wish I’d learned of it sooner. The social media sniping between the two of you has been fantastic for your visibility. Speaking of, how’s the latest Faeries story coming?”

  “I’m on target to meet deadline,” she assured him.

  “Good! That’s what I like to hear. Well, have a safe flight back to Florida tomorrow, and enjoy the rest of your vacation. I’ll be in touch.”

  Merry clicked off the call. She sat for a while, considering her options. There was no way she could make the book signing, but if the flight was on time and she wasn’t held up on her drive to Naples, she might be able to get to the bookstore while Scurvy Rickets was still there. They’d been going back and forth for weeks, trading written jabs. Maybe it was time they met face to face. He wouldn’t be expecting her, nor would he expect her to compliment him on his work and congratulate him on his Newsome win. But that’s exactly what she planned to do.

  Hang onto your hat, Mr. Rickets, because Merry Sunjoy is heading your way, and I’m bringing sunshine, rainbows, and happy-happy-joy-joy with me.

  She’d do a little internet searching to find out which bookstore was featuring the pirate author, and she’d drive there from the airport straightaway. She’d make peace with Scurvy Rickets, and then she’d celebrate with Nick.

  Nervous, but sure of her course, Merry smiled. Silver linings for everyone.

  She called Nick, every inch of her tingling as she waited for him to answer the phone. “Merry Sunjoy, hello. I was just thinking about you.”

  Merry’s body flooded with warmth. “How’s Chula?”

  “At the moment, she’s sniffing every inch of the yard. It poured a little while ago, and now she’s acting as if she’s never been out here before.”

  “The outdoors always smells better right after a good rain,” Merry said.

  “Always seeing the sunny side,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “You’re missing a gorgeous night. Moondrops all over the Gulf. Are you still coming home tomorrow? Back here to the villa, I mean.”

  Merry closed her eyes. She’d barely known the man a week. His rented villa was hardly ‘home,’ but she couldn’t stop the warm fuzzies from invading her belly. “I am. I have a stop to make on my way from the airport, but I imagine I’ll get to the villa sometime after three.”

  “That’s perfect,” Nick said. “I’ve got something I have to do for work, but I should be back at the villa before then.”

  “Okay. And thanks again for watching Chula for me.”

  “Don’t thank me. We might have to work out a custody arrangement. I’m a little bit in love with her.”

  Merry laughed. “We’ll discuss suitable terms over dinner. Have a good night, Nick.”

  “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

  Merry smiled at his Bogart impression and called herself all kinds of stupid for getting starry-eyed for no other reason than being called sweetheart. She had been married and divorced, and at the age of thirty-two was old enough to know that an endearment did not mean a thing.

  Except that when Nick said it, it sounded like a promise.

  “Hey, sis.” Holly poked her head in the doorway. “You sure you don’t want me to take you to the airport in the morning?”

  “Nah. I’ll Uber.”

  “You look like the cat that ate the canary,” Holly said, slipping into the room. She sat next to Merry and nudged her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I was on the phone with Nick, that’s all. And my agent before that. Scurvy Rickets is doing a book signing in Naples tomorrow. I’m going to crash it and make peace with the creep.”

  Holly raised her brows. “You sure you’re up for it? You’ve been awfully angry with the guy.”

  “I’m not really angry,” Merry said, picking at a loose thread on her pajama top. She shrugged and gave Holly a lopsided smile. “He’s been a meany-head, that’s all. It’s probably a publicity thing, but—you know, it still ticks me off. I didn’t ask for it.”

  “No, but you benefitted from it all the same, right? Didn’t you tell me your sales had jumped?”

  Merry nodded. “Yes, but at what cost, Holly? We’re two adult children’s authors, arguing like—well, like a pair of bratty kids. It’s ridiculous. Anyway, I’m putting an end to it tomorrow.”

  “What do think he meant by his last tweet?”

  “You mean since I told him to pound sand? I haven’t
seen it. I don’t want to see it. I’m off social media starting right this second until the end of my vacation next week. No Facebook, no Twitter, no anything. I’m posting a quick message on my blog to let readers know I’m on vacation.” Merry shifted to face Holly. “I need the break, and I don’t want anything to interfere with getting to know Nick. I’m so crazy about him. It should be scaring me, but it’s not.”

  “I can’t wait to meet him,” Holly said.

  “I hope that happens, because it will mean we’re working on a real relationship and not only a fling. He understands where I’m coming from, and since he’s a writer, too—he’s just right, you know? He’s the right man at the right time.”

  “The w-r-i-t-e man,” Holly made air quotes and laughed.

  Merry laughed with her. “Exactly.”

  “Listen, thanks for breaking up your vacation to come up here. I know you didn’t want to.”

  “Going to Mom’s gravesite wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I’m glad I did. I made peace with her. And I wanted to be here for you. First losing the baby, and then the accident and concussion—you’ve been through too much.” Merry took Holly’s hand in her own.

  “Losing the baby was the worst,” Holly said quietly. “But we’ll try again in a few months. Maybe third time will be a charm, huh?”

  “I’ll pray that it will be. How’s your head?”

  “Still hard as a rock,” Holly joked. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, and I’ve got Ben. You worry about you and that sexy Nick Brubaker.”

  The sisters hugged. Merry breathed in the orange blossom scent of Holly’s hair, fair like her own.

  “I love you so much,” Merry said. She drew back to look into Holly’s eyes, the same blue as her own and bright with unshed tears. “You’ll be a mama soon. I feel it in my bones.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am. There’s a little soul out there that isn’t ready to be born yet. But when he or she is, everything will fall into place. You’ll see.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” Holly said. She hugged Merry tight and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  ***

  Merry was surprised to have made such good time. Her flight had departed on schedule, and strong winds had aided an early arrival into Fort Myers. She encountered no wait at the rental car counter, and the road to Naples was free of congestion. It was smooth sailing all the way, and she was both nervous and excited at the prospect of clearing the air with Scurvy Rickets. He’d proven himself to be an inconsistent character, and she didn’t know what to expect.

  Merry parked the car. She pressed her hand to her stomach to quell the nervous butterflies there and closed her eyes, thinking of Nick. She imagined herself walking up the steps to the villa, pictured him opening the door. Chula would be with him, wagging her tail. She could already feel Nick’s arms around her, his mouth on hers.

  She laughed at herself. Her reunion scenario did nothing to calm her. In fact, it stirred her excitement even more. It was incredible that she could be this far gone. She’d only known Nick Brubaker a week. But he was rooted in her heart as surely as if, somehow, he’d been there all along.

  “Get this over with,” Sunbloom advised. “The sooner you make peace with the evil one, the sooner you’ll be with the golden-eyed creature!”

  Merry laughed at herself again. She’d have to tell Nick how she’d dubbed him and that she planned to put him in a book. He’d be amused. And she knew he’d never tease her about taking advice from three imaginary faeries. There was no doubt in her mind that he would understand.

  “Okay,” she murmured. “Here goes.”

  Purse slung over her shoulder, she stepped into the bookstore. She expected that she’d have to ask an employee where to find the Scurvy Rickets signing, but it was obvious from the moment she passed through the door. All she had to do was follow the sound of children’s laughter and squeals.

  Merry slowed her pace as she neared the periphery of the gathering. A host of children sat on the floor, wide eyes riveted on the man before them. There, in full pirate regalia, stood Merry’s nemesis himself: Scurvy Rickets—larger than life and impossible to ignore.

  Merry couldn’t deny his stage presence. She had imagined him to be of average height and build, maybe even a bit dumpy. But, no. Tall and broad shouldered, he strode with confidence before his enraptured audience, his deep and graveled voice alternating from soft to loud depending on what he was emphasizing. His expressive face shifted with the tale he told. Merry recognized it as his most recent publication, the one that had earned him the Newsome Award.

  Scurvy stopped his storytelling with an abrupt turn on the heels of his black boots and a forward lunge that leaned him toward the children and had them jumping back in surprise and shrieking with delight.

  “Ugh! That stench! Is that odoriferous Beanbottom in our midst? Are you hiding out there?” His bejeweled hand shaded his eyes as he peered from child to child asking, “Are you Cap’n Beanbottom? You? Is it you?” The children he questioned giggled and roared, “No!” and laughed all the harder when he made a face, pinched his nose, and decreed with hauteur, “Perhaps you are all a stinky Beanbottom!”

  Merry laughed with the kids, as did the other adults standing with her. It was Scurvy Rickets’s outlandish performance and the way he brought the children into it, as much as the storytelling itself, that held his young audience and their parents in thrall. She still thought he looked like the love child of Chucky and Jack Sparrow, with his black bushy brows, mustache, beard, bulbous nose, guyliner, and long hair with dreadlocks flowing from beneath his pirate hat. But seeing him in person, there was no denying his cartoonish appeal. He would also make a wonderful Captain Hook, she thought, and sighed. Scurvy Rickets, it seemed, really was “all that.” There was no comparing his theatrical storytelling to her own sedate Foundling Faeries readings.

  “Maybe you should take a page from his book, so to speak, and improve your theatre skills,” Moonflower suggested gently.

  The children’s uproarious laughter brought Merry from her reverie, and she sighed again. Moonflower was right. After seeing the lengths to which this author was willing to go, it was no wonder he was so popular. She would have to step up her game.

  Scurvy Rickets swiveled on his heels again, this time in the course of his tale telling. His voice reduced to a near whisper, and his young audience leaned forward, straining to hear.

  “Pow!” He yelled, eliciting surprised squeals and then laughter from his pint-sized listeners. “Pow, pow, pow! The gunpowder exploded! Old Cap’n Beanbottom was in real trouble now. There was only one thing to be done. He’d have to—”

  Scurvy Rickets’s gaze lit on Merry. Her cheeks heated. He recognized her from her social media photos, of course. Probably feared she had come to start trouble.

  Under other circumstances, she’d be amused by his shell-shocked expression, but while the children paid no attention to it, the adults in the group looked at her with curious eyes. Her discomfort increased, but she stood her ground. Let them wonder, she thought.

  “He’d have to what?” asked one of the kids, and others chimed in, demanding to know.

  Rickets dragged his gaze from Merry with obvious effort. It took a moment for him to shake off his out-of-character moment, but when he spoke again it was with all the force of his pirate persona. “Why, he’d have to enlist the aid of every single Pukefaced Pirate of Fartbutt Hollow!” he cried, arms flung wide.

  The kids went wild.

  ***

  Nick finished his storytelling, letting himself get lost again in the character he had created. But afterwards, sitting at the signing table meeting kids and their parents, it was more difficult to stay in character. Merry was a distraction, and his gaze kept wandering to her. He hoped she’d tire of waiting and leave, but no. She stood apart from the crowd, watching him work, taking in the scene while partially hidden behind a book display.

  She wa
s, Nick thought, witnessing the event and perhaps judging him as her Faeries might. He felt certain she missed nothing, happy to be observant but unobserved—well, not entirely, as he was brutally aware of her quiet but intense presence.

  The line of young readers and their adult companions had dwindled to a handful now, and his vain hope that Merry would leave vanished when she stepped from her vantage point and took a place near the table. His stomach lurched. Would she recognize him once they were face to face, or had she already identified him?

  Nick signed a book, smiled for a photo, and answered a few questions. There were a couple more kids in line, but after that he’d have to bolt if he didn’t want to talk to Merry. Children and parents continued to mill about, though most of Scurvy Rickets’s fans had dispersed. Nick considered his options for disappearing. Maybe after signing the last book he could excuse himself fast enough to get the hell out of the bookstore and be back at the villa before Merry arrived there.

  “No, you go ahead of me. I can wait.”

  Merry’s voice shot through Nick like a lightning bolt. He smiled at the kid and his mother Merry had allowed to cut in front of her, and glanced up. That was it. After this, there were no others. There was nothing to buffer him. Merry stepped up.

  Nick stared at the table, noted the wet ring soaked into the tablecloth like a dark halo around his water bottle. A drip of condensation ran down the length of plastic and disappeared into the fabric. He wished he might do the same.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Rickets. I’m Merry Sunjoy.”

  Nick closed his eyes as his chest constricted. Here we go, he thought, and pushed his chair from the table to stand and face her. The dimple he adored winked at him when she smiled, and the light in her blue eyes captured him as completely as the first moment she’d removed her sunglasses on the beach. For that brief moment, hope leapt inside him.

  “We’ve never met in person, but—” Her eyes widened as her oh-so-kissable mouth formed a horrified ‘oh.’