– I was the add-on author. I wasn't the beloved fashion blogger. I was that woman who could tell you how to unclog your sink – that is, once she got her own sink unclogged. Not so glamorous. No wonder Fitzpatrick was seeing another woman in Dallas.
The words on the cell phone seemed to be shouting at me, "Have you come to your decision? Have you? Have you?" Oscar Larry was turning out the lights to show exciting footage of his own personal UFO sighting. How thrilling, except now the room would notice my phone was lit up on my lap. I quickly punched "end" and stuffed the phone back in my purse.
I settled down for the next 30 minutes to view what looked like blurry pie tins floating through the atmosphere. That's it! Betty Crocker was an alien. Now we had the delicious proof of it. Who's next? Mrs. Fields? Marie Callender? The Gorton's fisherman? Would the controversy ever end?
When the lights came back on, I reached back into my purse for my phone. Oscar Larry was now passing out thick stacks of photocopies to his captive audience. Half of Ruby's crowd from the Hair House were groggily passing along Larry's handouts. Where was Martha Hoffman during this, and why wasn't she cutting this guy off? Doing a search of the room, both she and Vanessa Markham were absent from the world's longest book talk. They were probably out dusting off that copy of the best novel Martha had ever read.
Oscar Larry started in again. "They might have closed Project Blue Book in 1969 because of what they called a lack of evidence, but I think ..." And on and on and on he went, discussing each and every sighting in American history. I went back to my phone. I had received two messages in the time the lights were out. The first was from Fitzpatrick, repeating what he'd said in the first text. He really wanted to know. I pictured him leaning over his phone reading my texts with those beautiful blue eyes, pushing his light brown hair from his forehead. I felt myself drifting into Destiny Wood's territory. Then I pictured a dark-haired beauty answering his phone telling me he was in the shower. I decided to ignore him for just a little bit longer.
I heard a loud yawn from the audience as Oscar Larry continued. Martha Hoffman came back into the room, followed by Vanessa, who quietly took her chair. Martha didn't look as smitten with Vanessa as she had been earlier in the evening. I wondered if Vanessa finally told her she only liked her for her library. Martha looked at her watch, and her face took on a pained expression.
I checked my second text, this one from my father:
Zach and Danny tried to break the world record for eating boiled eggs. Where is the antacid?
Martha Hoffman was striding toward the speakers' table from the back of the room. "And thank you so much, Mr. Larry for your ... detailed description of the world of aliens."
"But I wasn't finished yet," Oscar Larry stuttered, his face reddening as he realized he would leave us uninformed about space aliens. He still hadn't told us the five-note sequence to play on our kazoos when the giant crafts landed.
"No, no, Mr. Larry. We need to save something for the people who will read your book now, mustn't we?" Larry looked disappointed, but then the realization came over him that people would have to buy his book to read it. He nodded vigorously and sat back down.
"Oh, dear where does the time go? It seems we are going to have reschedule our author night for next week so that we can hear from the rest of our panelists," said Martha." She turned toward the rest of us at the table. "Authors, can we count on you to come back next week to speak about your life's work?" Everyone looked to each other and nodded in agreement. Great, another night of literary abandon. I didn't know if I could take it.
"Then it's all settled. We will all meet back here next week to visit with the rest of our esteemed guests and try to budget our time a little more appropriately." The remaining
The words on the cell phone seemed to be shouting at me, "Have you come to your decision? Have you? Have you?" Oscar Larry was turning out the lights to show exciting footage of his own personal UFO sighting. How thrilling, except now the room would notice my phone was lit up on my lap. I quickly punched "end" and stuffed the phone back in my purse.
I settled down for the next 30 minutes to view what looked like blurry pie tins floating through the atmosphere. That's it! Betty Crocker was an alien. Now we had the delicious proof of it. Who's next? Mrs. Fields? Marie Callender? The Gorton's fisherman? Would the controversy ever end?
When the lights came back on, I reached back into my purse for my phone. Oscar Larry was now passing out thick stacks of photocopies to his captive audience. Half of Ruby's crowd from the Hair House were groggily passing along Larry's handouts. Where was Martha Hoffman during this, and why wasn't she cutting this guy off? Doing a search of the room, both she and Vanessa Markham were absent from the world's longest book talk. They were probably out dusting off that copy of the best novel Martha had ever read.
Oscar Larry started in again. "They might have closed Project Blue Book in 1969 because of what they called a lack of evidence, but I think ..." And on and on and on he went, discussing each and every sighting in American history. I went back to my phone. I had received two messages in the time the lights were out. The first was from Fitzpatrick, repeating what he'd said in the first text. He really wanted to know. I pictured him leaning over his phone reading my texts with those beautiful blue eyes, pushing his light brown hair from his forehead. I felt myself drifting into Destiny Wood's territory. Then I pictured a dark-haired beauty answering his phone telling me he was in the shower. I decided to ignore him for just a little bit longer.
I heard a loud yawn from the audience as Oscar Larry continued. Martha Hoffman came back into the room, followed by Vanessa, who quietly took her chair. Martha didn't look as smitten with Vanessa as she had been earlier in the evening. I wondered if Vanessa finally told her she only liked her for her library. Martha looked at her watch, and her face took on a pained expression.
I checked my second text, this one from my father:
Zach and Danny tried to break the world record for eating boiled eggs. Where is the antacid?
Martha Hoffman was striding toward the speakers' table from the back of the room. "And thank you so much, Mr. Larry for your ... detailed description of the world of aliens."
"But I wasn't finished yet," Oscar Larry stuttered, his face reddening as he realized he would leave us uninformed about space aliens. He still hadn't told us the five-note sequence to play on our kazoos when the giant crafts landed.
"No, no, Mr. Larry. We need to save something for the people who will read your book now, mustn't we?" Larry looked disappointed, but then the realization came over him that people would have to buy his book to read it. He nodded vigorously and sat back down.
"Oh, dear where does the time go? It seems we are going to have reschedule our author night for next week so that we can hear from the rest of our panelists," said Martha." She turned toward the rest of us at the table. "Authors, can we count on you to come back next week to speak about your life's work?" Everyone looked to each other and nodded in agreement. Great, another night of literary abandon. I didn't know if I could take it.
"Then it's all settled. We will all meet back here next week to visit with the rest of our esteemed guests and try to budget our time a little more appropriately." The remaining
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