Wonders Never Cease (32 page)

Emmet turned to a young man standing in line in front of him. “Warm day,” he said.

“Hotter'n blazes if you ask me,” the man replied. “That's L.A. for you.”

Emmet nodded. “Must be almost noon—that ol' sun's about straight overhead. But I suppose a strapping young fella like you can bear the heat a might better than an old man can.”

“You feelin' okay, mister?”

“Don't like to complain,” Emmet said. “A man could get a bit light-headed under a sun like this, that's all. Never you mind.”

“Here, why don't you go ahead of me?”

“I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair.”

“No, I insist. Here.” He stepped aside and allowed Emmet to take his place—then he turned to the next person in line, a man about his own age. “Hey, we got an old man here, and the sun's getting to him. How about we let him go ahead of us—that okay with you?”

“No problem,” said the other man, who then turned to the next person in line and made the same request. Within minutes Emmet had moved forward eight positions.

Emmet looked over at Kemp and grinned.

Kemp panicked. He turned to the squat-bodied woman in front of him. “Fronts?”

“What?”

“Fronts? Mind if I go ahead of you?”

“What is this, recess? Wait your turn like everybody else.”

“Look, this is important. I'm in a big hurry.”

“And your time's more important than mine?”

Kemp pulled out his wallet. “I'll give you ten bucks if you'll switch places with me.”

She looked at his wallet. “This must be important to you.”

“Very important.”

“Then make it twenty.”

“Twenty! Forget it!”

She turned away. “Have a nice wait. I think I might get
two
books.”

Kemp pulled out a twenty. “This is blackmail.”

“You're breaking my heart.”

Kemp stepped in front of her and tapped the shoulder of the man next in line. “Hey—ten bucks if you'll switch places with me.”

The squat-bodied woman leaned out from behind him. “He gave me twenty.”

Kemp stepped to the left and blocked her out. “Ten bucks, buddy—here you go.”

The man frowned. “How come she gets twenty and I only get ten?”

“Because you're a nice guy and she's a bloodsucking leech. C'mon, how about it?”

The man narrowed his eyes at Kemp. “Did you just call my wife a bloodsucking leech?”

“How long you been waiting?” Emmet asked the next woman in line.

“About two hours,” she said. “How about you?”

“'Bout the same. How much longer you think it'll be?”

“Hard to say. It could take another hour.”

Emmet let out a sigh. “Just hope I can wait around that long.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“I'm a working man. This is my day off—got a lot of things I need to take care of.”

“Here, go ahead of me.”

“Oh, now, I couldn't do that.”

“No, please. I insist.”

Another ten positions. Another smile at Kemp.

Kemp was frantic. He looked at his empty wallet and all the people still ahead of him. They sure wouldn't take credit cards, and even if they would he didn't have time to fool with them anyway—Emmet was way ahead of him, almost halfway to the front. Kemp jumped out of line and hurried forward until he was a few positions ahead of the old man—then he looked for the friendliest female face he could find and approached.

“Hey!” he said with a big smile. “Nice to see you again!”

She looked at him awkwardly. “Um . . .”

“It's me—Kemp McAvoy. Don't you remember?” She tried.

“We met a while back—at the place—with what's-his-name.”

“I'm sorry, I don't think I—”

Kemp felt a tap on his shoulder. The man who was next in line said, “That's really low.”

Kemp looked at him indignantly. “What is?”

“Hitting on a woman just to move up in line.”

“I happen to know this woman,” Kemp said. “I'm just blanking on her name right now.”

“Teresa,” the woman offered.

“Right, Teresa—I remember now. This is my friend Teresa. How are you, Teresa?”

The woman glared back at him. “My name is Paula. Get out of here, you scumbag.”

Kemp spun around and looked for Emmet—he was only ten people from the front of his line now. Kemp hurried forward again and searched for another sympathetic face—but word about the scumbag who was trying to cheat his way into line had spread like wildfire, and every man, woman, and child had mentally locked arms against him. There was no way he was cutting in line.

He looked at the table and could see Liv Hayden plain as day.

“This is incredible,” Biederman said. “Better than we could have even hoped for.”

“Even
Lattes
didn't have a kickoff like this,” Wes said with a grin. “We're off to a fantastic start. See that camera team over there? That's CNN, my friend.”

The two men paced back and forth behind the signing table, watching the two lines roll steadily toward them like twin conveyor belts—conveyor belts lined with cash.
It's a
money factory
, Wes thought,
a freaking money factory
. Each eager reader stepped to the front of the line and extended a book, grinning from ear to ear as Liv Hayden illegibly scribbled her famous name, some buyers taking the opportunity to snap a quick photo while others tried to somehow touch her fingers as she handed the book back.

“She's a real trouper,” Biederman said, smiling admiringly at his client's shapely back. “You know, she hates this kind of thing. Despises it.”

“It wouldn't have worked without her,” Wes replied. “People don't line up just to buy a book—they're here to get a piece of Liv Hayden. I don't think they—”

He suddenly stopped.

Biederman looked at him. “What's the matter?”

Wes pointed to the line on the left. There seemed to be some kind of disturbance near the front of the line—people were pushing and arguing. Wes stepped closer to get a better look . . .

He saw Kemp McAvoy trying to force his way into line.

“It's an emergency!” Kemp shouted, trying to squeeze in front of a pregnant woman.

Two men hurled insults at him while a small boy kicked at his shins.

Biederman and Kalamar grabbed Kemp by the shoulders and dragged him out of line.

“What do you think you're doing?” Wes whispered angrily in Kemp's ear.

“I'm just trying to get an autograph,” Kemp whispered back. “What does it look like?”

“Are you out of your mind?” Biederman said. “Get out of here, McAvoy. She can't see you—you'll ruin everything!”

“This whole thing was my idea!” Kemp said, raising his voice. “Why am I standing in line with the rest of these morons?”

Biederman grabbed the book from his hand. “Give me the book, you fool—I'll get it signed for you.”

Kemp snatched the book back. “No! I have to meet her myself—I have to get to her before
he
does!”

Kemp looked over at Emmet. The old man was next in line now; in a few more seconds it would be too late.

In frantic desperation Kemp twisted out of Biederman's and Kalamar's grips and hurtled toward the front of the line. Each of the people ahead of him in line did his or her level best to block Kemp's path or at least slow his progress, but Kemp plunged ahead through the gauntlet of hands and arms until he finally shoved the last man aside and reached the front of the line—but the table was closer than he had estimated, and he was running with such reckless abandon that he couldn't stop himself in time.

Liv Hayden looked up just as Kemp crashed into the table and slid across it onto her, sending books flying everywhere and tipping her chair over backward until she slammed against the ground with Kemp on top of her.

Kemp raised himself up and stared down at her face six inches below. He whipped off his sunglasses and flashed his best smile.

Liv Hayden found herself staring up into a strangely familiar face—a face that was silhouetted against the noontime sun.

“I don't believe in accidents,” Kemp said. “Do you?”

42

M
att Callahan looked through the window of the surgical waiting room and saw Natalie sitting by herself. She looked exhausted; her shoulders were rounded and there were dark circles under her eyes. Matt leaned closer to the glass and looked around the room; she seemed to be all alone. He straightened the flowers in his simple bouquet and opened the door.

Natalie looked up as he entered.

Before she could speak he held up one hand. “I don't want to interrupt—you'd probably like to be alone. I know Leah has her surgery today, and I just wanted to drop these off.” He set the vase of flowers on a table in front of her and gave her a quick wave good-bye.

“Do you have to go?” Natalie asked.