“When I was jumping I’d just pray over and over again: ‘St. Michael, Patron of Paratroopers, Protect Us,’ “ Duncan said, shrugging. “Over forty jumps and nary an injury. Only guy I know who had more than twenty and never broke anything. These days I just talk to him from time to time when I need somebody to talk to who doesn’t talk back.”
“You were military?” Barbara asked.
“Just a grunt,” Duncan said, shrugging. “Not a very good one. Now I’m a decent writer some people like.”
“This is his way of fishing for compliments,” the brunette said, smiling. “He’s actually quite good. If you like military stuff you’d probably enjoy his books.”
“Unfortunately, most beautiful, gorgeous, curvaceous, long-legged, fine-boned, well-dressed blondes do not,” Duncan said, winking at her. “Especially those between the ages of sixteen and nineteen and a half. Alas, my primary market is males between the ages of fifteen and fifty. And I’m so irredeemably het. It’s a shame, it really is.”
“So, basically, you’re screwed,” the man with the beard said, laughing.
“Or not,” Folsom said, sighing. “But I will triumph. Unicorns. That’s the ticket.”
“I-I’ve been th-thinking about a s-story,” one of the men at the table said, suddenly. He wasn’t smoking, Barbara noticed, and she wasn’t sure why he was out there. He was in his twenties, at a guess, with lanky dark brown hair that had been cut in bangs that just didn’t look right on him. “I-it’s s-sort of unicorns in outer s-space. Well, n-not really, th-they’re not really u-unicorns, th-th-th-they just look s-sort of like th-them, but not horse looking more like s-seals because th-they can fly in s-space and th-they make a s-sort of bubble of air around th-them. Well, th-they don’t usually but th-they can if th-they have to and th-these kids find s-some and… Well, not kids, probably teenagers, th-they find th-them, I haven’t figured out just why th-they’re th-there but I’m working on th-that and th-these kids, th-their parents are probably s-scientists because I don’t th-think th-that it would work with th-them being asteroid miners. I th-think th-that asteroid miners would probably be a bit red-neck, and th-these kids are pretty s-smart. Of course, th-they could have not really s-smart parents. Or th-the parents could be pretty s-smart because you’d probably have to be s-smarter th-than most people th-think to be an asteroid miner. Anyway, th-these kids find th-these s-sort of unicorn th-things and th-there’s a group of pirates. Well, maybe not pirates, th-they might be aliens th-that are trying to take over th-the s-system. And th-the kids use th-the unicorns to s-sort of foil th-them and th-that s-sort of th-thing. What do you th-think?”
“Lovely idea, Baron,” Duncan said, nodding. If he’d noticed the digressions and the fact that the entire thing had been delivered in a monotone, not to mention that the story idea was weak and the plot nonexistent, he didn’t show it. Nobody seemed to and Barb decided that since they all knew the person, they must be used to it. Which was more acceptance than she’d have expected from a group of clearly military oriented people. Most air force officers would have impolitely told him to shove off long ago. “And if it sold, young lovelies would be all over you like flies on honey.”
“They won’t be all over me,” one of the guys at the table said, grumpily. “But I really think my book has a chance.”
“So do I, Sean,” Duncan said, nodding. “Good story line, good characters. I think you’re a little long on the info dumps but what do I know? David certainly does well enough with them.”
“Still the wrong genre to fix my lack-a-nookie,” Sean replied. He was solidly built, probably in his twenties, with short hair and the look that said former military.
“Finally break up with Annette?” the bookseller asked.
“Ripped my heart out and stomped that sucker flat,” Sean said, bitterly. “Then she took out a restraining order. Now all my coworkers think I’m some kind of abuser.”
“Well, you do have a bit of temper,” Duncan pointed out.
“I never raised a hand to her,” Sean said, flatly. “I barely raised my voice. And that was only after I found her in my bed with her new boyfriend.”
“Sounds like you need to go back and reread the Iliad, laddy,” Don said, hiccupping. “Women are the root of all evil.”
“And men are the whole rest of the tree,” the brunette quipped.
“Well, I wouldn’t have fooled around on you,” a muffled figure said. The person was bundled up beyond belief in the cold. She had on a University of Tennessee jacket with the hood up, a scarf wrapped around her face and mitten-clad hands thrust into her armpits. Barbara could only guess she was a female from the voice and a tuft of blond hair sticking out of one side of the hood. Even her eyes were too shadowed to be seen.
“Thanks, Sadie,” Sean said, grinning. “But you’re taken.”
“We’re just friends,” the man next to her said, gruffly. He was probably in his fifties with a round face and body. With the beard and demeanor he looked like nothing so much as a rotund bear. He was the one who had made the comment about women not liking science. “And after two wives fooling around on me, I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he added.
“Men are naturally polygamous,” Duncan said, grinning. “Women, on the other hand, are simply designed to be unfaithful.”
“Now that’s an outrageous statement,” the brunette said, smiling. “Which means you have some backing for it, knowing you.”
“I’ll skip the men being naturally polygamous; it’s too long,” Duncan said, nodding. “But the ‘naturally unfaithful’ is easier. Study was done a few years ago. One group of women graded men on the basis of ‘hard’ or ‘soft’ looking. Then another group graded the men on their attractiveness, but it was calculated against their menstrual cycle. The closer they got to their menstrual cycle, when they were less fertile in other words, the more attractive the ‘soft’ looking men got. The closer they were to fertile, the more attractive the ‘hard’ looking men got. When asked to choose which they would prefer as a husband, for the long term, to raise children with, most chose the ‘soft’ looking males. The reason generally given was that the ‘nicer’ looking guys would probably make better fathers. More nurturing than those hard looking bastards.”
“Hah!” the round bear laughed. “I wonder how many ‘urban males’ are raising bastards?”
“Well, divorce proceedings are a bad random population,” Sean said. “But over thirty percent of the children that are tested in disputed custody cases turn out to not be the children of their supposed fathers.”
“Women are naturally unfaithful,” Duncan said, shrugging. “Once you’ve got that through your head everything else follows logically.”
“So are you one of the guests?” Barb asked, her eyes narrowing. Among other things, although he was somewhat older, the writer fit the parameters. He certainly didn’t seem to care much for women. She considered trying to read him, but wasn’t sure if anyone would notice. The shock she got when Mandy noticed still had her unsure.
“For my sins,” Duncan said. “Every year I turn and twist on the hook, and every year I seem to return.”
“And do you go to a lot of conventions?” Barbara asked, curiously.
“About four or five a year,” Duncan said, shrugging. “I enjoy them but they cut into writing time. But I need them, too. They let me get out in the mix of society and recharge the writing pool. I do a good bit of traveling for research as well. I’ve spent a fair amount of time in Virginia lately, researching another book. Again it gets me out in society; writing is a very lonely job. Helps with characters, too.”