Press Release, page 17
Disappointment nibbles at me. I thought he’d be more excited on my behalf. I chalk it up to morning grumps about leaving our bed to start the workday. If it wasn’t for the good news, I’d be grumping along with him.
He shivers in the air conditioning and grabs the hotel robe from the floor at the end of the bed. “How does your good news include me?”
I’m a bit knocked off. He’s asking a me and not an us question. “Good news for us, our shared panel.”
Something in my expression must speak to him because he drops onto the bed and takes my hand. “Sorry. I’ve got a bad habit of detaching so I can run the day through my head when I wake up. What’s our good news?” He leans on one elbow.
Relief raises the corners of my mouth. “And here I thought I was the only one with a scroll constantly blazing through my brain.”
He slides a hand under my chin to guide my lips to his. We say a second good morning with a lazy kiss.
“Bobby’s hell bent on convincing Deidre to moderate our shipping panel.” I reorder stray locks of Cian’s Nutella drizzle hair. “Those two are a mutual admiration society. Between both Bobby and Gilly making their cases, I believe we’ll get her. Deidre’s pushing for a commitment from True Time to bring her whole Chieftain’s Son series to screen, not just the first five books. Bobby’ll work that angle, convincing her an appearance could well tip the scales of the network decision in her favor.”
In a swift attack, Cian plucks me from the sheet to dip me into the final pose of a ballroom dance. “You, my dear, are definitely a force to be reckoned with.”
After a luscious kiss, he playfully pushes me away. “Time to work. Let’s bang out the rest of the details, then I’ll get on the horn to convince MetaMeme to join us.”
“Not without a shower and a change of clothes.” I steal the sheet to cover up since Cian commandeered the robe. “Meet for breakfast downstairs.” I check the time, it’s nearly seven. I meet Bobby at nine. “Forty-five minutes?”
“Thirty-five.”
“You’re bargaining with me?”
Cian crosses the room to take me in his arms. “I’ll bargain for as many minutes as I can with you.” Our kiss is anything but bittersweet. “While we’re bargaining, may I request the honor of another night, Ms. McGrath?”
I tap a finger to his chin. “I think that can be arranged, Mr. Malley.”
He kisses my forehead and leaves me standing wrapped in a sheet in front of the great glass window as he heads into shower. I slip my sore but happy body into clothes, toss shoes and tablet into my bag, and with wistful regret, leave Cian’s room.
As I zip past the shallow lift bay, I smack dead into Jack. He’s in running gear and dripping head to toe in sweat. He clutches my upper arms to keep me from rebounding off him and landing on my bottom.
“Whoa there, Meg. Sorry. Are you okay?”
“Please tell me you’ve come from the hotel gym?”
He looks guilty. “I took a fine run along the water.”
“Without security?” I shake my head. I’ve warned both Jack and Niks not to venture out without security. Sometimes I wonder if sound comes out of my lips when I speak to them. I tone down my usual song of annoyance. I’m still in the process of repairing things with Jack after my less than supportive behavior to his marriage. I don’t want to lose any ground by scolding him. “What am I going to do with you, Jack O’Leary?” I grasp his blue-ribbon bicep and turn him toward our bank of rooms.
“I reckoned early was safe as long as I didn’t collide with one of your scavenger clues.”
It’s my turn to take a bite of guilt sandwich for piling more obligations on Jack. “I hope you know how much I appreciate the way you put up with me. Gilly too.”
Jack brushes a hand across my back. “We know your heart for the show is what drives you.”
We. I look up at this kind soul. He and Gilly make we a place to long for. As short-lived as the we Cian and me will make, I’m glad for it.
My hotel room comes up first. I open the door with the keycard. “I’ll see you and Gilly at noon at the restaurant with Bobby’s new Jack Daniel’s steak obsession.” I consider spilling the Sunday slot details but decide to wait until I can paint a clearer scenario about the benefits of yet another obligation piled on to Jack’s weekend. My laser focus today must be the main show panel and the avalanche of app subscriptions I’m praying it sets off. “We have a lot to review before this afternoon gets going.”
“We’ll be there.” Spots of heat rise on my cheeks when I catch Jack glancing past me at the far too-perfectly made bed for the early hour. His eyes switch back to me and take inventory of my uncharacteristically loose hair and rumpled clothing. The easy smile on his face doesn’t tease or judge. It’s warm with a nod of congratulations as if I’ve just won top honors. Jack, bless him, leaves it at that and heads to his own bed.
I shut the door and lean against it, an idiotic smile on my face with thoughts of Cian. Sharing our bed for another night will be grand, but I’m also jiggly with the joy of talking with him over breakfast. I crave his company and comradery as well as his other talents. “Top honors, to be sure.”
I’ve an urge to call my sister, Taryn. Who else can I gush and giggle with about hooking up with a man who’d be exactly what I’d custom order from a menu? I’m sure Maureen will corner me for Cian details soon, but I’m not keen on talking with anyone from the show. God knows Dash can’t get wind of how far his suggestion of Cian showing me the ropes has gone, not when the Bossman’s opinion of my competence already teeters on disastrous.
I feel in my bones I’m close to turning him around with The Chieftain’s Son strong showing at Cali Con.
Chapter 14
The Hot Guy Panel
The crowd on the convention floor exploded since Cian and I checked out the True Time booth on Wednesday. Taryn begged me for a Star’s Shadow robot dress she’d seen someone wearing online. It’d been a helluva hunt, but I tracked one down.
This festival of nerd-dom isn’t exclusively Dungeons and Dragons gamers with tape on their glasses or legions of pop culture cosplayers. Sure, those fans are represented, but everyone from families, couples in matching outfits, and solo guests craning their necks to take in statues of giant robots, to folks who look as if they’ve strolled in from a beach picnic are in the mix.
I’m told it’s abject madness to secure passes to Cali Con. These people glued themselves to computer screens and prayed personal longing would be enough to gain them admittance. I’m a bit awed by the perseverance it takes to walk these aisles or park your carcass into a seat hours before a favorite panel to insure your place in the room.
After getting my foot run over twice by buggies with small wailing children, I give up on civility and use my shoulder to carve a path between a T-shirt booth towering up to the ceiling and a trio of superheroes built entirely of LEGO® blocks to make my way to the True Time booth.
The line for The Chieftain’s Son fur-covered bed photo-op snakes out of sight. I grab my tall, sandy-haired booth lead and hand off the box of postcards with the details of my Win an Adventure with Jack O’Leary promotion. God bless the True Time marketing department for their lightning speed, and the O’Learys’ willingness to run with my intrusive idea.
“Hide ‘em good until after the end of The Chieftain’s Son panel. I don’t want any leaks before our reveal.” I chew on my lip. “Bust them out at half-six.” When the tunic-clad clansman looks confused, I translate. “Six thirty.”
“Will do,” he says, stowing the box under a curtained table.
“My man Chip will bring you more boxes for Saturday and Sunday. How are you on giveaway merch?”
“Lookin’ good, Ms. McGrath.” He shoots me a thumbs up.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” I say and nod at the bed. “Thanks for holding down the furs.”
The route through the lobby of the events center and up the moving stairs requires a shoving strategy as well. I meet up with Jack, Gilly, and Maureen in a secure ready room. They mingle with the rest of the panel participants waiting to be escorted to The Grand Ballroom. Security forms a loose perimeter around the throng, protecting but not interfering. My folks wear green wristbands of the chosen few who will mount daises throughout the day to bestow their presence on adoring fans.
“Ready, Jack?” I ask.
He shrugs his shoulders. “Is any fool ever really ready for these things?”
I point a finger at him. “If any fool is, it’ll be you. Do you want us to wait and walk over with you?”
His smile is for Gilly alone. “Go on. I’ll see you after.” He touches two fingers to his lips.
We three women head toward the Grand Ballroom doors with our magic green wristbands. I lay a hand on Gilly’s arm before we pop in. “Maureen, do you mind seeing to our seats? We’ll be right along.”
She tosses me a look of, “You’ll be explaining later.” “Sure.”
As soon as we’re alone, I lay what I hope feels like a sisterly hand on Gilly’s shoulder. I can tell she’s wary. A rush of sympathy for her warms my chest. “I feel I owe you a private apology for hitting you with both the scavenger hunt and the adventure day with Jack without discussing it first.”
Her shrug telegraphs her distaste of both my brainchildren. Instead of making eye contact, her gaze locks on the blue California sky outside the wall of glass.
“I regret that thinking on my feet hasn’t been kind to either you or Jack. Please understand I only intend the plans to boost the show.”
Her smile is sad and full of resignation. “I get it.”
I breath in courage. “I’ve been insensitive to ignore the personal impact on you.” I’ve categorized Jack and Gilly as an impediment instead of being awed two people who deserve it have found one another. Cian is to blame or to thank for such an epiphany. The bead of cynicism I’ve kept so close over the concept of finding your perfect match, or dare I say, soulmate like Gilly and Jack begins to shatter. Before these last couple of days, I never believed in quick and powerful connections like the one I’ve made with Cian. Even if it can’t last, it’s been a gift to know it’s possible.
“The ideas and decisions I’ve thrown at you and Jack are about an ideal image, not reality.” Gilly stares at me as if she can’t believe she’s hearing these words come out of my mouth. “I am truly sorry I’ve been less than supportive of your relationship and marriage. It won’t be the case anymore.”
Gilly’s eyes glisten. Oh Lord, I’ve gone and turned on her tears again.
“And for the record, the two of you are grand together.”
I stumble backward from the force of Gilly’s hug. “You don’t know how much those words mean to me, Meg. It’s been so hard.”
I return the hug with the silent sisterhood of those who’ve found a light in someone else to make their own shine brighter. “I’ll do my part to change up a bit.” I break off. “Let’s go watch your man dazzle the room.”
Maureen waves us to a block of empty chairs in the first row and we sit. The sound of more than four thousand voices gives The Grand Ballroom the feel of a living entity. I peer at the back of the room.
“Maureen, can you tell how full it is?”
“Looks bursting to me,” she says, holding a hand over her eyes to block out the glare from a giant screen.
Fantastic. I’m confident a lordly share of the crowd has come to see Jack.
Maureen tugs at my sleeve to whisper. “Your dinner guest is playing at something up there.” She nods in the direction of the dais.
I spot Cian right away. He’s chatting up one of the Con personnel. “Playing at what?”
“He’s swapped positions of the nametags.”
A nasty chill runs down my spine. “What do you mean?”
“Jack was in the spot next to the moderator, but now he’s bumped to second spot.”
Gilly stands. “That’s not fair.”
My chill ignites into anger. “It’s more than not fair. I negotiated positions.” Leaving the two ladies behind, I stalk up to Cian. “Well, here’s a tip you never shared with me, last-minute name swapping.”
He’s rattled, as he should be, at being caught in the act. “It’s not what it looks like?”
“So, it’s not you switching your boy into Jack’s position?”
Surprise shifts to tight lips. “It was True Time’s call, not mine.”
I shake my cell at him. “A call I didn’t get from them or you.”
Tight lips bloom into an angry scowl to match mine. “I don’t have a crystal ball to know when Dash is keeping you in the dark.”
Fingernails press into my palm. “After what I told you about my situation, I think it’s clear I’m purposefully in the dark when it comes to the boss man.”
Before we continue, one of the Con folks asks us to take our seats. I’m fuming as I drop down next to Maureen.
Cian tails me. “Would you ladies mind scooting down so I can sit next to Meg?”
“Our pleasure,” says Maureen, shifting seats before the reserved section fills with publicists and guests of the panelists.
“Look, Meg,” Cian tries to take my hand, but I pull free. The look of hurt in his eyes makes me as low as a bottom-feeding river fish. “The reason they moved Malakai Bono from my show into Jack’s spot is because Star’s Shadow needs the boost.”
Curiosity tempers my anger. “Boost?”
The strain on his lovely face intensifies. “The Chieftain’s Son is kicking our ass in bringing in new app subscriptions.”
I jab my screen to check emails. Sure enough, there’s one waiting for me with the latest tally of which True Time show is credited with the rise in subscribers. We’re in first place with a decent gap before Star’s Shadow’s second place. It’s working. My mad scavenger hunt, the photo op in the booth, the building wrap, and everything else I’ve set in place for my show are paying off.
“I assume new subscriptions are part of the blood sacrifice Dash demands from you to keep your job.” There’s a bite to Cian’s tone. His eyes fix on the dais.
I deserve his agitation after being quite the dark witch to Cian just now. After everything he’s done for me, and with me, I accused him of sabotage without giving the man a breath to explain. For the love of Mommy’s boxty pancakes, we’re good faith partners on a rock-solid proposal for a panel sure to be chosen for Harborview Hall honors. My lips still bear the imprint of his goodbye kiss from breakfast, yet I went raging at him. What’s wrong with me? Cian’s got cause for bitterness after my madwoman charge.
“Dashell shoulda cut me in on the change.” Wrong choice. Too defensive. I should come in softer. I am pathetic at personal. My old habits don’t die hard, they take a bite out of folks.
Cian whips his head to face me. “Well, now you know.” He turns away, arms crossed.
I’ve definitely stepped in it. Damn my full-steam-ahead default. “Cian.” My voice is drowned out by the introduction of the moderator, Hooper Katt, the handsome with a Jimmy Smits vibe, fifty-something male lead of Truth, Justice, and the American Dream. Maureen leans over Gilly to loud whisper. “If he’s a promise of things to come, I see why they call this the hot guy panel.”
Hooper holds his arms wide to the room, acknowledging their reception. “Thank you, Cali Con!” More applause fills the space. “Welcome to Is it Hot in Here or is it Just Me?” He fans his face to another swell of approval.
When I turn back to Cian with an apology tingling on my lips, his rigid posture nearly makes me lose my nerve. I lay a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I was an ass for jumping all over you.”
There’s no heat from this hot guy.
The room explodes when Malakai Bono and Jack O’Leary enter the scene.
I risk sliding my hand to Cian’s and try to twine my fingers with his. He neither resists nor welcomes the contact. It’s like petting a slab of rock. “Can I buy you an apology whiskey later? Or two?”
From the row behind us, someone calls Cian’s name. I recognize Chip and other faces from the Star’s Shadow team who beckon him to an empty seat in their midst.
“Business,” is all he says before slipping off.
Chapter 15
Time to Shine
A human wall of security surrounds the members of The Chieftain’s Son panel as we exit golf carts that whisked us to a discreet events center entrance. Fans holler, hoping to get a slice of attention from Jack, Niks, Cici Storm, and even Bobby as we make our way inside. Sir Kevin might as well be wearing a shroud he’s so bundled up in hood, hat, and sunglasses so he isn’t recognized before the reveal.
Cici threads her arm through Jack’s as we make our way inside. “You were hilarious on Hot Guy. Any more jokes up your sleeve for ours?”
The way Cici fawns over Jack makes me grateful Gilly doesn’t keep a knife tucked in her belt the way Nieve does on the show. We’re led into the same small room behind a row of black drapes designated as a green room, where panelists and their handlers wait. It’s a short walk from here to the side door of The Grand Ballroom. Everyone is prepped and primed.
I take a head count and come up one short. “Where’s Artie?” Arthur Boyd, our Bowstring and comic relief, isn’t with the pack.
“Here,” he calls from the doorway, chewing on a soft pretzel.
“You nipped out for food?” I bite my tongue to keep from a full scolding.
“Where’s mine?” says Jack, using the request as an excuse to peel himself off Cici.
Artie tears off a hunk of his salty treat and hands it to him. “What’s mine is yours, my chieftain,” says Artie with a bow.
While they continue to mess about, I check my phone for the hundredth time since Bobby told me to expect a call from Deidre. Nothing yet. The name I most want to see doesn’t grace my screen either. Cian promised he’d join me in the audience for The Chieftain’s Son panel as moral support. I know he’s out there now for the Star’s Shadow panel.
