Muse

Ambush

We're back late.

Until I see the line at my table, I'm not thinking it's a big deal. Rushing behind my station, I take my seat and apologize to everyone who had to wait. My guard wanders back, though there's a noticeable dearth of people in the walk. It's because Daniel's not here. There must be a panel going on. In between signing and selling and handshaking, I stalk the Random Fandom site, waiting for the inevitable article.

Both pieces release at three PM. There's one about Daniel and I have a feature all to myself. Unable to reign in my ego, I pore over my article first, goggle eyed.

The piece starts with a brief overview of the drama. Video and freezes are embedded dynamically with the text. I wince when I see myself confronting the mob. I don't look at all confident. The interview follows. Randal's position is mainly neutral with a small dose of sympathy for my situation. He paints me as a cringing violet likely to be crushed by the strong eddies of life buffeting me. The romanticized language has my brows knitting together. He does mention that I struck him as genuine and heartfelt. Also that I seemed overwhelmed by my own neuroses at times. I'm not sure how he got that from a fifteen minute conversation, but ok.

The article ends with a vow to have someone on Random Fandom read and review my work in the coming days and they will include fan opinion about my space opera series. I toggle to Daniel's write up.

Again, it's relatively benign and bland. What he says is nothing I don't expect, yet I linger on one sentence. In my mind, I hear him say it. His voice echoes in my thoughts.

I did enjoy Ms. Rainyday's work, but I have no personal interest in her at all besides as a passing acquaintance and a respect for her work.

Our public sentiments are the same. Our stories match. There's nothing to worry about. And yet...Is this his public belief about our relationship or does he mean it?

I shut my compac. Just because I'm not staring at the article doesn't mean it's not the primary focus of my thought.

More people come to see me through the late afternoon. They talk about the article and are sympathetic about everything. Public opinion seems to turn in my favor. When I meet up with Lara and her crew, she says the same, her face plastered to her LD.

"There's less shit-talking about you tonight and most of what's out there's rehashes of what went out last night and this morning." She snaps her display into collapse and beams at me. "You're no longer interesting. Doesn't matter what porn they slap your head on."

The two artists with her giggle as I deadpan. "You always know how to lift my spirits."

"You coming out with us again?" The smaller, muscular woman asks.

I shake my head. "Not for the long haul. Where are you going for dinner?"

They name another mom and pop place that serves a lot of ramen and bubble tea.