At the last launch, she had been so excited; Amy had dreaded her finding out the series was ending. She had let Nadine leave with her book, having cravenly dodged her questions about what would happen next, then waited expectantly for a letter to arrive at her publishers berating her for not telling the truth.
Except no letter had arrived.
There hadn’t been a single word from Nadine who had appeared to drop off the face of the earth. Until today.
Feeling uncomfortable and hoping Nadine wasn’t going to make a scene in the crowded store, Amy finished loading the unsold books into her one remaining box and picked it up, holding it defensively against her chest.
‘I couldn’t keep writing the same story forever,’ she tried to reason, aware her explanation sounded a bit lame.
‘Why not?’ Nadine countered.
‘The books had run their course. I wanted to try something new.’
‘New?’ The word was said with contempt.
‘Look, I’m sorry you’re disappointed, I really am.’ Actually, Amy wasn’t sorry at all. She had lost the passion for the Zack Maguire series and hadn’t been able to get the last book finished fast enough. She was only sorry she had been caught here by Nadine today and was having to explain her actions. ‘Six books were enough. The story had run its course.’
‘You killed him off!’ Nadine’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘Why would you do that? Have you any idea how upset it made me?’
Not upset enough that you’re gonna go all Kathy Bates on me, I hope.
Amy kept the sarcastic retort to herself. Nadine looked pissed and probably wouldn’t react well to the joke.
‘Why did you do it, Amy? Why?’
Her voice was loud enough now to draw attention from the other customers.
Amy hugged her box tighter to her chest with one arm, freeing the other to run her hand back through her hair, a gesture from childhood she tended to repeat when on edge or nervous.
While she was more than capable of holding her own in an argument, public confrontations weren’t her style.
‘Is everything okay here?’
To her embarrassment, she turned to see the store manager standing beside her, fixing Nadine with a pointed look. Nadine didn’t even bother to look at him, continuing instead to scowl at Amy.
‘You have no respect for your fans, Amy Gallaty.’ As she spat out Amy’s name, she poked the box sharply with a long red talon. ‘You say you’re sorry, but it’s a little late for that, isn’t it, missy?’
Amy could feel her hackles starting to rise. Who the hell did Nadine think she was? And what right did she have to question her writing choices? This wasn’t Misery and the woman was starting to piss her off.
‘I’m entitled to write what I want, Nadine. I don’t have to answer to you.’
Nadine’s mouth dropped open in surprise at Amy’s apparent sass.
‘So that’s what you think of your fans, is it? Expect them to support you and buy your books and recommend you to other people, but you don’t give a shit about their opinions.’
Her tone was bitter and angry now.
‘Madam, I am going to have to ask you to leave.’ The store manager had his arm around Nadine, trying to guide her away from Amy.
The woman wasn’t going quietly though and wrestled her way out of his grasp.
‘Get your horrible little hands off me, you cretin.’
‘Madam, please.’ The store manager, a neat and meticulous man of about fifty, looked horrified.
He tried to grab her arm again and she shoved him hard, causing him to stumble backwards into a rack of books that all went flying.
‘Nadine? What the hell are you doing?’
The voice came from the other side of the store and Amy recognised the man hurrying towards them, a Too Many Books carrier bag in his hand and a look of horror on his face.
Nadine’s boyfriend.
Amy had met him a couple of times over the years and it never failed to surprise her that this quietly attractive, mild-mannered and seemingly intelligent man had chosen to spend his life with a woman like Nadine.
Well, they say opposites attract.
Helping the store manager to his feet, he fixed Nadine with a scathing look. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he repeated, his tone calm but with an angry edge.
Nadine stabbed a finger in Amy’s direction. ‘It’s all her fault.’
‘Sir, I’d like your lady friend to leave, please, or I will have to call the police.’ This was the store manager again, looking frostily at Nadine, although he addressed her boyfriend.
‘I am so sorry.’ The boyfriend, Todd, Tony… Amy couldn’t remember his name, had his wallet out and was thumbing through notes. ‘I will pay for any damage.’
‘Not necessary,’ the store manager said stiffly. ‘I just want her out.’
‘I can’t believe you’re trying to give him money,’ Nadine hissed. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong, Troy.’
Troy. That was it.
‘You promised, Nadine. You promised you weren’t going to come over here.’
‘I couldn’t help it. I’m so upset. She has a lot to answer for.’
Troy had his arm around Nadine now and was trying to guide her out of the store, despite her protestations.
‘I’m sorry,’ he mouthed to Amy and the store manager.
‘She will be sorry,’ Nadine snarled, eventually relenting. With a final scowl in Amy’s direction, she allowed Troy to lead her from the store.
Amy was quick to leave after the encounter. As well as being embarrassed by the incident, she got the impression the store manager couldn’t wait to see the back of her. He had politely asked her if she was okay, but his overall demeanour had changed, and she couldn’t help thinking he held her partly responsible.
Her VW Beetle was parked in the lot across the road. She would dump the books in the passenger seat then wander down to the grocery store on the corner of the block, pick up some dinner for later. She wasn’t working tonight so she would cook a proper meal. Maybe have some wine with it. She had a couple of bottles in the apartment and, after the encounter with Nadine, felt she deserved a glass or two. Perhaps she would call up her girlfriends, Heidi and Fran, see if they wanted to come over. As she approached her car, the ugly naked word crudely written in red letters across the front windshield stood out.
BITCH.
Amy stopped, rooted to the spot, and glanced around the parking lot, box clutched tightly in one hand, car keys in the other. Bile rose in her throat.
Nadine?
She expected the woman to ambush her again, but as she crossed to the car on shaky legs, no one appeared. Still, she felt sick.
Quickly dropping the books onto the passenger seat, she got a cloth from the glovebox and dabbed at the letters.
It was lipstick or similar.
Had to be Nadine.
Does she hate me that much?
Amy tried her best to wipe the offending word from the windshield. The sticky make-up smeared, but eventually started to lift. The feeling of sickness remained. It was stupid that a silly word could get to her so much.
Climbing behind the wheel and squirting water from the washer over the rest of the sticky goo, she decided to forego the grocery store. She had lost her appetite and if it came back later she would get takeout or make do with whatever was in the refrigerator.