"Will you demagnetize this for me?" I asked her, sliding the book over the counter.
"Sure," she said, running it across the pad. "Are you using your discount on it?"
I shook my head. "I'm not buying it. I'm just borrowing it."
"Can you do that?" She passed the book back to me.
"Sure," I lied. "Managers can."
Minutes later, I showed my prize to an unimpressed Aubrey and turned on the water in my bathtub. While it filled, I checked my messages—none—and sorted through the mail I'd picked up on the way in. Nothing interesting there either. Satisfied nothing else required my attention, I stepped out of my clothes and sank into the watery depths of the tub, careful not to get the book wet. Aubrey, crouching on a nearby counter, watched me with squinty eyes, apparently pondering why anyone would willingly immerse themselves in water ever, let alone for extended periods of time.
I figured I could read more than five pages tonight since I'd been deprived for the last couple of days. When I finished the fifteenth, I discovered I was three pages from the next chapter. Might as well end with a clean break. After I was done, I sighed and leaned back, feeling decadent and spent. Pure bliss. Books were a lot less messy than orgasms.
The next morning, I went to work, happy and refreshed. Paige found me around lunchtime as I sat on the edge of my desk and watched Doug play Mine Sweeper. Seeing her, I leapt from my position while he hastily closed down the game.
Paige ignored him, fixing her eyes on me. "I want you to do something with Seth Mortensen."
Uneasily, I remembered the love slave comment. "Like what?"
"I don't know." She gave a small, unconcerned shrug of the head. "Anything. He's new to town. He doesn't know anyone yet, so his social life is probably dismal."
Recalling his cold reception yesterday and conversational difficulties, I wasn't exactly surprised by this news. "I took him on a tour."
"It's not the same."
"What about his brother?"
"What about him?"
"I'm sure they're doing social things all the time."
"Why are you fighting this? I thought you were a fan."
I was a fan—a major one—but reading his work and interacting with him were proving to be two very different things. The Glasgow Pact was amazing, as was the e-mail he'd sent. Spoken conversation was a bit... lacking. I couldn't tell Paige this, of course, so she and I went back and forth a bit on the issue while Doug looked on with interest. Finally, I agreed against my better judgment, dreading the prospect of even proposing the venture to Seth, let alone embarking upon it.
When I finally made myself approach him later in the day, I was fully braced for another brush-off. Instead, he turned from his work and smiled at me.
"Hey," he said. His mood seemed so improved that I decided yesterday must have been a fluke.
"Hey. How's it going?"
"Not so well." He tapped the laptop's screen lightly with his fingernail, eyes frowning as he focused on it. "They're being a bit difficult. I just can't quite get the grip I need on this one scene."
Interest swept me. Bad days with Cady and O'Neill. I had always imagined interacting with such characters must be a nonstop thrill. The ultimate job.
"Sounds like you need a break then. Paige is worried about your social life."
His brown eyes glanced back to me. "Oh? How so?"
"She thinks you aren't getting out enough. That you don't know anyone in town yet."
"I know my brother and his family. And Mistee." He paused. "And I know you."
"Good thing, because I'm about to become your cruise director. “
Seth's lips quirked slightly, then he shook his head and looked back at the screen. "That's really nice—of you and Paige both—but not necessary."
He wasn't dismissing me as he had yesterday, but I still felt miffed that my generous deal was not being embraced, especially since I was offering it under duress.
"Come on," I said. "What else are you going to do?"
"Write."
I couldn't argue with that. Writing those novels was God's Own Work. Who was I to interfere with their creator? And yet... Paige had given a directive. That was nearly a divine commandment in itself. A compromise popped into my head.
"You could do something, I don't know, research-related. For the book. Two birds with one stone."
"I've already got all the research I need for this one."
"What about, uh, ongoing character development? Like... going to the planetarium." Cady had a fascination with astronomy. She would often point out constellations and link them to some symbolic story analogous to the novel's plot. "Or... or... a hockey game? You need fresh ideas for O'Neill's games. You'll run out."
He shook his head. "No I won't. I've never even been to a hockey game to begin with."
"I—what? That's... no. Really?"
He shrugged.
"Where... do you get the game info from then? The plays?"
"I know the basic rules. I pick up pieces on the Internet, patch it together."
I stared, feeling betrayed. O'Neill was absolutely obsessed with the Detroit Red Wings. That passion shaped his personality and was reflected in his actions: fast, skilled, and at times brutal. Believing Seth to be meticulous about every detail, I had naturally assumed he must know everything about hockey to have written such a defining trait into his protagonist.
Seth watched me, confused by whatever stunned look I wore.
"We're going to a hockey game," I stated.
"No, we—"
"We are going to a hockey game. Hang on a sec."
I ran back downstairs, kicked Doug off our computer, and got the information I needed. It was just as I'd suspected. The Thunderbirds' season had just started.
"Six-thirty," I told Seth, minutes later. "Meet me at Key Arena, at the main window. I'll buy the tickets."
He looked dubious.
"Six-thirty," I repeated. "This'll be great. It'll give you a break and let you actually see what the game's like. Besides, you said you were blocked today."
Not only that, it would fulfill my obligation to Paige in a way that didn't require much talking. The stadium would be too loud, and we'd be too busy watching to need conversation.
"I don't know where Key Arena is."
"You can walk to it from here. Just keep heading for the Space Needle. They're both part of the Seattle Center."
"So when are you meeting me?" There was a warning note in my voice, daring him to cross me.
He grimaced. "Six-thirty."
After work, I set off to run my own errands. I had nothing new to work on with the vampire hunter enigma until Erik got back to me. Unfortunately, the mundane world still had its own share of requirements, and I spent most of my evening taking care of miscellany. Like restocking my supply of cat food, coffee, and Grey Goose. And checking out the new line of lip glosses at the MAC counter. I even remembered to pick up a cheap, assemble-it-yourself bookshelf for the fire-hazard stacks of books in my living room.
My productivity knew no bounds.
For dinner, I grabbed Indian food and managed to land at Key Arena precisely at six-thirty. I didn't see Seth anywhere but didn't panic just yet. The Seattle Center was not easy to navigate; he was probably still wandering around the Needle, trying to make his way over here.
I bought the tickets and sat down on one of the large cement steps. The air had turned chilly tonight, and I snuggled into my heavy fleece pullover, shape-shifting it a bit thicker. While waiting, I people-watched. Couples, groups of guys, and excited children were all turning out for Seattle's fierce little team. They made for interesting viewing.