Sara’s mouth fell open. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Two pickles?”
Leah missed the sarcasm. “Yes. Readers want two pickles. They want to know exactly what to expect when they pick up a book by say, well, by any romance writer.”
Wondering if Leah could possibly be serious, Sara kept her eyes glued to the woman’s face. “So you’re saying the reading public wants to read the same book over and over again?”
Leah smiled in a self-satisfied way, as if she believed Sara understood the publishing world at last. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You mix up a few things, maybe reverse the order of events in your previous story, and change the names of your characters. Yes, an emphatic yes. What I’m saying is that you give your readers the same story over and over again. That’s how you succeed in this business. You can’t write contemporary and paranormal and romantic suspense and expect anyone to read your work. You’re not branded. To sell books, just like McDonald’s, you have to make the same cheeseburger over and over again.” Leah slapped her open palm on the table for emphasis. “That’s how you win the game.”
Sara felt like she’d just been transported to the Twilight Zone. She nearly blurted out; I don’t eat at McDonald’s. Instead she asked, “Didn’t somebody once say that if you give a monkey a typewriter and enough time, eventually it will type out War and Peace?”
Leah shook her head. “I don’t understand the analogy. I’m telling you how to sell your work – a three line pitch and branding.”
Sara realized the lecture was finished. “I’ll keep your advice in mind.” She reached for the check, but Geri got to it first.
When she and Geri pulled their wallets from their purses, Leah turned to Geri. “You know, after all you’ve done for me today, I really should be paying.” Sara watched to see if she’d actually make a move to pick up the check, but she held perfectly still.
“Don’t worry about it,” Geri said. “We’ve got it covered.”
Sara handed Geri three twenty dollar bills. As she did, Leah called the waiter over. Lifting the half-full carafe of ice tea, she said, “I’d like this to go.”
The waiter arched his eyebrows. “Would you like me to package up the carafe for you?” His voice dripped sarcasm.
Leah didn’t seem to notice. She studied the glass jar in her hand. “That would be great.”
The man opened his mouth, but nothing came out. At last he said, “I wasn’t serious. We don’t give away our serving items.” He snatched the carafe from Leah. “I’ll bring your tea in a plastic to-go cup.”
As the four waited in an uncomfortable silence for Leah’s ice tea, Sara decided she’d had enough. She slipped on her jacket and slid off the bench seat. She bent down to retrieve her leather tote. Do I thank her for meeting with me, or do I just tell her it’s been interesting? Or do I say nothing?
Be gracious. Thank her for meeting with you.
Sara stood up straight, careful to keep her bag from bumping the neighboring table. She forced her lips to move. “Priscilla, it’s been a pleasure.” She turned to Leah and tried to catch her eye, but Leah seemed to be busy fussing with her napkin. Sara spoke to her anyway. “Leah, thanks very much for meeting with me. I learned an awful lot tonight.”
Leah looked up. “You really should attend a Bucher Seminar. I think it would do wonders for you.”
Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t roll your eyes. “I’ll consider it.” She walked over to Geri’s side of the table, leaned down, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Drive safe.”
Sara knew Leah and Priscilla were probably watching her, but she didn’t give a damn. She made a beeline for the hostess.
“Miss?”
The woman looked up from her computer screen. “Yes?”
“I want to apologize to you and to the wait staff. I’m sorry for the way our server was treated. Please tell him that for me.”
The woman nodded in reply, a sympathetic smile on her face.
“And thank you for holding the table.”
“You’re welcome.” The hostess reached for Sara’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “You come back any time.”
Sara managed a half-hearted smile in return and left the restaurant. She headed to the rear of the Ferry Building, certain that Geri and her party would leave by the front door. Glancing up at the clock, she noted that it was nine-forty. She’d missed the bus by ten minutes. Her only choice was to hang out until ten-thirty and catch the last bus to Vallejo.
“Sara, wait.” It was Geri. “Give me your manuscripts.”
“What? Why?”
“Just give me your tote. I know I can find someone who’ll be interested in your work. The truth is; there actually will be agents and publishers at this conference. Don’t ask me what the Bucher Seminars have to do with publishing, but for some weird reason, the most unexpected people show up.”
Geri reached for the bag, but Sara hesitated. “I don’t know. If what Leah says is valid, it hardly seems worth it. I may not like her style, but what if she’s right?” Sara shrugged. “I can’t say I’m feeling positive just now.”
“Look, girl.” Geri crossed her arms. “She didn’t even let you finish a single sentence. She may not approve of the concept for the paranormal, but you didn’t get to say a word about your contemporaries. Your stuff is gorgeous. And that’s coming from me, a woman whose entire skeleton wallows in jealousy. Besides, Leah Rosen ain’t the only fish in the sea.”
“But what about this branding she talked about? I’m not branded, Geri. I’m not McDonald’s.”
Her friend pointed at the bag. “Gimme.”
What did I do to deserve a friend like this? “Thank you, Geri. You really have gone above and beyond.” Sara handed over the bag. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be getting the car?”
Geri waved her off. “Let ‘em wait. I’ve waited for them all damn day. Listen, keep your chin up. I’ll call you when I get home.”
Sara smiled at her friend. “Thanks for trying.”
***
Crap. What a lousy night. Exhausted, Sara plopped down on a bench. She figured she’d give Geri fifteen minutes to get her car and meet Leah and Priscilla at the curb. By then it should be safe to go back inside where it was nice and warm. She listened to the water lap against the nearby pier.
It wasn’t this cold out here a few minutes ago. Feels like someone turned an air conditioner on Arctic freeze. Sara began to shake. Screw this waiting; I’m going inside now. If I run into them I can’t make things any worse than I already have.
As she reached for her purse, a sudden chill shot up her spine and the hair on the back of her neck stood straight out. Sara whirled around in surprise. She hadn’t felt this sensation in months, not since Nathan’s first appearance. There had to be a spirit close by, and if the powerful chill was any indication, it was a very disturbed spirit.
Where is it?
Closing her eyes, Sara concentrated, reaching out in every direction, but she couldn’t pinpoint the source of the ice cold energy. It almost seemed to be bubbling up from the sidewalk, encircling her.
Not again, please god, I don’t want this to happen again.
Sara’s eyes flew open. She stood all alone on the pier. Heart racing, she hurried back into the building where she would be surrounded by people and noise and lights and warmth.
The cold receded somewhat once Sara got inside, but she remained on guard. It felt as if something very malevolent had turned its sights on her, something she couldn’t locate with any of her senses. She was overcome by a sudden urge to call Nathan and she pulled her phone from her purse.
Idiot, it’s no good trying to call him. What’s he going to answer? Shit. What if this weird feeling means Nathan’s vanished? The thought of losing him made Sara short of breath. I’ve never experienced a panic attack, but I think I’m about to have my first. I can’t lose him. I can’t. I love him with all my heart.
Chapter Nine
Can’t this lousy bus
go any faster? I wish I was Supergirl, because I’d fly home.
Sara mentally urged the driver to speed up. The icy cold sensation hadn’t dissipated since she’d left the Ferry Building. The back of her neck and scalp continued to prickle. Sara had studied the bus carefully when she’d boarded, searching every corner for disembodied spirits, but she’d seen nothing. Aside from herself and the driver, there were few passengers, and as far as she could tell, none were incorporeal.
An older woman dozed across the aisle, two young men were seated together in the back, and there was one other man who’d somehow slipped past her, unnoticed. Apparently he’d closed his eyes the minute he sat down. To all intents and purposes, he appeared to be sound asleep. He was seated several rows behind her.
At least I think he’s asleep. Sara didn’t want to turn around and look too closely. He was a well-dressed, good looking guy and he might think she was interested in him. Not a chance.
Weary from the unpleasant events of the evening and worried the ghosts might be back, she closed her eyes too.
All I want to do is get home to Nathan and make sure he’s all right, or at least, make sure he’s still there. Please let him be there.
Sara tried and failed to shake off the sense of foreboding that filled her. I shouldn’t have left him tonight. It was a bone-headed notion and a complete waste of time and money. How could I imagine a woman like Leah Rosen would have any interest in a nobody like me? Hubris, that’s all it was, hubris. She got what she wanted, a tour of the city, transportation and a free meal, awful as it was.
My friends have been filling my head with nonsense, trying to convince me I’m a good writer. To think, I was beginning to believe them. Ha. Bad idea. Your friends can’t be impartial; they’re friends. No more friends reading your stuff.
Sara felt her world shift.
Oh god, no, not again.
Her eyes flew open. The incorporeal image of a young woman floated in the bus aisle beside her row of seats. The woman stared directly at Sara, a look of terrible sadness on her shimmering face.
“What do you want?” Sara spoke the words aloud.
The young woman shook her head. Sara followed the movement of her eyes as they shifted quickly to the man seated three rows back before they returned to her face. An involuntary shiver ran up Sara’s spine and she knew something was very off. Without a word, the woman disappeared as quickly as she’d appeared.
“Are you talkin’ to me?” the woman across the aisle asked.
“No, sorry,” Sara replied, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s, uh, my cell phone. I’m talking on a headset.”
“Oh.” The woman waved at her. “I hate those darn things. I always think people are talking to me.” She slouched down in her seat and closed her eyes again.
Fuck. Sara wanted to turn and scrutinize the man behind her, but she didn’t dare. Cold air crept down the aisle. Sara pulled her jacket close around her.
I swear that was a warning. It couldn’t be anything else. What was she trying to say? She looked right at him and then stared directly into my eyes.
Or maybe it has nothing at all to do with him, maybe this is about Nathan. I haven’t seen a ghost since Nathan first appeared in my house. Why now? Why here? The air around her grew frigid and Sara shivered, hunkering down further into her seat. Tears filled her eyes and she put her hands over her ears. They’re back; the ghosts are back.
***
Nathan paced before the front door, his sense of unease growing. He glanced at the clock, not that he needed to, he’d looked at it a mere thirty seconds before. He held the door open and stared out into the dark night, wishing he could step onto the porch, hoping somehow his presence would bring Sara home sooner.
He’d urged her to go to this meeting, to follow her dream, but now his mind was filled with doubts. Sara had explained her means of transportation. She’d drive to the Vallejo Ferry, board a large boat to cross the water to San Francisco, but then, late at night, she’d need to return to her vehicle by bus. Despite Sara’s nonchalance and her words of reassurance, Nathan knew in his gut that it was not truly safe for a woman to be out alone at night in any time or place. In that respect, the world hadn’t changed one iota in five hundred years.
“Sara.” He called her name into the cold wind. “Sara, come back to me.” Nathan shivered as he recalled his reason for being. She was all right. She must be. If something had happened to her, I wouldn’t be standing here.
***
The bus pulled up to the stop across from the dark and shuttered ferry building. Sara looked out the window, praying she might see some walkers or joggers along the waterfront, but it was late and she knew the wind blowing off the water would be freezing cold. It was going to be a long and scary walk to her car. The main lot had been full when she’d arrived, so she’d had to park near the library. That meant crossing the main parking lot, and traipsing through the unlighted park beneath the trees, past the druggies and homeless people
.
Yeah, well the guy sitting behind me scares me a hell of a lot more than they do.
The older woman rose from her seat and made her down the stairs. Sara stood up and hurried, trying to stay right behind her. After exiting, she stepped aside, standing in front of the bench beneath the street lamp, waiting for the man in question to get off the bus and go to his car. She kept her eyes on him as he strolled into the closest lot, while she prayed the bus driver wouldn’t take off immediately.
You know the driver will leave. This is the last bus tonight. He wants to get home as bad as you do. Her stomach turning rapid somersaults, she watched the bus pull away.
Sara looked down the street, pretending she expected a ride to show up any minute, but she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her neck. She didn’t want to turn and face him, she tried to stop herself, but it was no use. Sara turned. His stare was a laser beam aimed directly at her head.
Their eyes met and Sara’s blood ran cold.
“Do you need a lift?” The voice sounded friendly, casual, disinterested. The eyes were anything but. They studied her like a reptilian beast deciding upon the easiest way to snatch its dinner. “It’s not a good idea to wait out here in the dark, alone.”
No shit.
Sara knew without a doubt that this man was the source of the chill she’d felt at the Ferry Building. He must have been watching me, watching and waiting for his opportunity to get me alone. Well, he’s got me. She looked around in desperation for the two young men who’d been sitting in the back of the bus, but they’d already crossed the street and climbed into a waiting car. The elderly woman had vanished as well.
This can’t be happening.
Reigning in her fear, Sara tried hard to sound brave. “I’m not alone.”
Out of the blue, she remembered the bar beside the closed ferry terminal. Without warning, Sara sprinted across the empty street. The place was a dive, but right now, it was the closest thing to a safe haven she was going to find in this neighborhood. She would be around people.
Forget my car. I can call Dalton to come pick me up or get a cab.
Spotting a couple in the parking lot, Sara headed straight for them. Staying right on their heels, she followed them to the entry. As if she had eyes in the back of her head, Sara knew the man had crossed the street and was ambling along behind her.
The stale air of the crowded bar spilled out into the night when Sara caught the closing door and held it open. She gagged at the pungent aroma of unwashed bodies, cheap beer, and urine.
It doesn’t matter what the place smells like. Find a seat, keep an eye on him and make your phone calls.
There weren’t many empty seats, but Sara found a single stool at a counter near the pool table. The men playing were wizened, tough as nails biker-types. Under normal circumstances, Sara figured they’d make her nervous. Right now she was grateful for their intimidating presence.
Eyes glued to the
doorway, she watched him enter and scope out the place.
He sees me, all right. Instead of approaching her, he grabbed a seat at the bar. Making sure to keep him in sight, Sara fished through her purse, searching for her cell phone. Damn. It’s buried in the bottom. She had to remove her wallet to reach it. Just as her fingers closed around the phone, a waitress set a beer down in front of her. Sara glanced up.
“I didn’t order that.”
The woman jerked her head toward the bar. “From the nice gentleman over there.” She gave Sara a wink. “He’s kinda cute, honey. Wants you to join him. I’d take him up on his offer if I was you. We don’t get many guys as good looking as him in this place.”
Sara pushed the glass away. “No thanks. You can tell him that for me.”
The woman glanced over her shoulder and shrugged. “Tell him yourself.”
For a moment the waitress stood in the way and Sara couldn’t see around her. When she finally moved, Sara realized the man had left his seat at the bar.
Shit. Sara flipped open her phone. She stared at the dark screen and began pressing buttons like mad, but there was no response; the battery was dead.
“Anything I can help you with?”
Sara shivered involuntarily and her heart began to pound in her chest. The voice was soft, unremarkable, yet tinged with menace. She wondered if she was the only person in the world who could hear death in his innocuous words.
Drawn against her will like a moth to a flame, Sara lifted her head. Their eyes met. Flat and cold; his pupils were a pale blue, so pale the color seemed to wash out entirely in the dim light. Sara’s shivering increased until it became flat out teeth chattering.
I swear I can see into his soul. What is he, an axe murderer, a serial killer?
“There’s no need to be afraid. It seems like you’re having some trouble. Did you miss your ride? Do you need to borrow my phone?” He pulled a cell phone out of his jacket pocket. “I’d be happy to help you in any way possible. Maybe flag down a cab for you? I’m new to the area, but I can give you a ride home.”
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