Kissing Brendan Callahan by Susan Amesse Page A

into tiny slits. “I hope Antonia comes soon. I have to get back to the newspaper, you know.” She begins playing with her STAFF badge. “Is there something wrong with your neck?”
    â€œNo,” I say, walking away from her.
    â€œAll right, everyone,” says Mr. Barrett. “Antonia has arrived.”
    We all turn. Antonia DeMarco rushes in, wearing her floppy hat, and it makes me glad that I’m wearing mine. I’m mesmerized by the pattern in her long, flowing skirt. It has swirls of blue and purple, with dancing half moons and stars that match her earrings, which are dangling moon slivers. She looks like a movie star again. We’re wearing the same colors. This must be fate.
    Mr. Barrett leads Antonia to the table he has set up in the middle of the store. “These are for you.” He gestures to a glass vase filled with beautiful yellow roses.
    â€œThank you.” Antonia looks around at the crowd and then sits, like she’s used to having all these people stare at her. I move closer, but Mr. Barrett stops me.
    â€œSarah, no cutting in the line. People have been waiting longer than you.”
    â€œI’m here as Antonia’s assistant for the playwriting contest.” He rolls his eyes and escorts the first customer to Antonia. Couldn’t he have been a little impressed?
    â€œI’m parched,” Antonia says to Mr. Barrett. “I need some water, please.” He nods and goes into the back room. I try to get Antonia’s attention, but she’s talking with the first customer, so I stand off to the side. It’s unbelievable enough that I’m in the same room with her. I like the way she talks—her voice bounces along. Mr. Barrett comes back with a glass and a pitcher of water. He smiles at the customers while he fills the glass and hands it to Antonia, placing the pitcher on the table.
    Antonia wrinkles her nose. “I’m so sorry. I should have been more explicit. I never drink tap water. Would you be a dear and find me some bottled water? I prefer Pelton Springs.”
    His smile fades. “Yes, of course.”
    Anne Marie is next. She straightens her STAFF badge and puts on that phony smile. “Antonia DeMarco,” she says, gushing, “I’m your number one fan. I’m a writer, too, and I’ve just written a play, all about Alice Austen.”
    I won’t let her charm Antonia into choosing her play. I march over to Antonia and stick out my hand. “I’m Sarah.”
    Antonia looks at me. “Who?”
    Anne Marie shoots me an exasperated look. “You’re cutting in.”
    I reach into the bag I’m carrying and take out a can of cat food and hold it up.
    â€œOh, yes.” Antonia’s face is all smiles. “Ophelia will be so happy. You are a dear.”
    I beam and hold up the accordion folder. “Here are the plays.”
    â€œKeep them for me,” she says, rising. “I need to stretch my legs.” She walks to the nonfiction section and beckons me with her index finger. I hurry over. “I hate book signings,” she whispers. “They tire me considerably. A writer needs solitude, but my agent makes me do this. Honestly, they ask me the same question over and over again. It drives me mad.” She affects a silly voice. “How do you come up with the ideas for your books?” She elbows me. “I’m glad you’re to be my assistant. You seem a cut above the rest.”
    I’ve died and gone to heaven.
    â€œLovely hat,” she says.
    Mr. Barrett clears his throat and holds out a bottle of mineral water. “Ms. DeMarco, your fans are waiting.”
    Antonia smiles and strolls to the table. She inspects the bottle. “I suppose this will do. Thank you.” She sits and turns back to me. “Wait for me, won’t you? We must talk drama.”
    I almost fall over. She wants me to wait for her. We’re going to talk drama.