I hurried after Jack as he walked down the aisle between the chairs set up for the event.
At least fifty chairs.
In them, sat three people. Including me. And judging from the smell, the guy hunched in a chair at the back may well have been out with the cashier the night before. He had long, dirty hair, and his beard was actually braided and fastened with a yellow rubber band. I recognized him right away as the man who had directed me here in the first place. His dog was asleep beside him on the floor.
The man himself was out cold.
I took a seat about half way along the right hand side, out of scent-distance from the panhandler and far enough up so that it would make the room look a little more … occupied.
Jack stood up at the front of the room by a podium with a microphone attached. He took a deep breath and then squared his shoulders and stepped in front of the podium.
“Uh—thanks for comin’, everyone. I’m here tonight to read from my last book, BANE OF THE DRAGON-LAIRD. So—ah—if no one has any objection, I’ll jes’ read a selection from the first chapter.”
The old lady sitting in the front row on the other side of the aisle waved her hand at him. “Ach, Mister Findlay—a wee moment before ye begin?” She set her large handbag down on the seat beside her and using her cane, pulled herself to her feet.
“Aye jes’ wanted ye to know I loved this story. It’s even better than the last one, lad. Well done. Well done.” She beamed at him like a fond auntie.
Jack gave a little half bow. “Thank ye, Missus McCarthy. I’m glad ye liked it. Is there any part you’d ‘specially enjoy hearin’ tonight?”
The old lady waved her cane, having settled back down in her seat. “Nae, nae, laddie—ye jes’ go on and read the bit ye chose fer us. I’ll be delighted wi’ whatever ye read, son.”
Jack set the book on the podium, and gave a last hopeful look toward the front of the store.
No one else appeared.
“Right, then,” he said, and pulled a pair of glasses from his pocket. “Here goes.”
He cleared his throat. “Sleet slashed across the cast iron sky and collected in tiny glass pebbles around the body at his feet. He knelt carefully, the …”
The old lady suddenly made a loud Scottish noise at the back of her throat.
“Ye know, lad, I’ve only jes’ thought of it,” she called out from her spot in the front row. She waved her copy of the book at Jack. “What about the bit where he meets the peasant girl in the rain?”
Jack closed the book with his finger marking the place he’d been interrupted. “Ah—all right, then, Missus McCarthy. Shall I finish this bit first?”
“As ye like, as ye like, pet. It’s on’y—ye did ask the question. Go on, go on, finish this bit first, o’course.”
He nodded and cleared his throat again, a little painfully to my ear. “He knelt carefully, the …”
“Because it’s the sexy bit, innit? All yer books have a little rumpy-pumpy, aye?”
Jack sighed and flipped through the pages. “I’ll jes’ read it now, since you are so looking forward to it, shall I?”
“If ye like, pet.”
The panhandler at the back awoke with a snort. He looked around blearily and focused on Jack, who was still flipping through pages at the front.
“I hear yer next book is about the Wallace, lad,” he yelled from his seat at the back. “Dozzat mean yer acquainted with that there Gibson fella, then?”
“Aye—tha’ Gibson fella, he’s a sexy one, too,” added Mrs. McCarthy.
Yeah, things went pretty much downhill after that.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Jack said, afterwards.
I’d let him buy me a pot of tea in the shop next door, and we sat at a small table in the back, cups steaming.
“It wasn’t so bad,” I said. “You sold a few copies, and …”
“Two. I sold two copies. One of them to you, which, with your financial situation, I should force you to return.”
He closed his eyes and breathed in the steam from his cup. Eyes still closed, he said, “Take it back. They’ll give you your money. The mercy buy doesn’t apply when you weren’t even expecting to find me here.”
I nudged his arm with my hand and his eyes opened. “Look, you made sales and a few new fans today. Your discussion with that man on the flaws in Braveheart was fascinating. I had no idea there were so many historical errors in that movie.”
“He was a drunk, Emma.”
“Okay, I did know that,” I admitted. “After his racist rant awhile back …”