Incorporeal (13 page)

Thank you, Dr. Freud. How much do I owe you?

The appetizers arrived, served by the bus boy. Apparently their waiter had had enough of them.

“
I need my carafe of ice tea,” Leah said, shaking the ice in her glass. “And some soy sauce.”

“
Yes, ma’am.” He vanished and returned within seconds with the items requested.

He placed a platter of fresh spring rolls in the center of the table. “Thank you,” Sara said. The young man gave her a shy nod.

“
These are the best in the city,” Geri said. “You really ought to try one.”

Leah looked them over. She shrugged. “Not interested.” She waved at a passing waiter. “Can you bring my chicken stir fry now? I don’t need to wait until after the appetizers.”

“
I’ll get your server, madam.” His voice was cool, but polite.

Oh my God, I can never show my face in this restaurant again. She is the proverbial customer from hell
. Sara wanted to hide beneath a paper bag. Their server appeared with a plate of something brown and chunky. “Your chicken stir fry.” He set the platter down, and without another word, spun on his heels and disappeared.

Leah offered the platter around. “Help yourselves.” Only Priscilla took a spoonful. Sara wrinkled her nose, her nausea returning at the sight of the unidentifiable mixture of ingredients.

Sara set a spring role on her plate so she could pick at it and pretend to eat. On any other day, she’d dig in with relish. These spring rolls were to die for. But today was not any other day. Spring rolls she had aplenty; it was an appetite she lacked. She offered the platter to Priscilla, who snatched up two without hesitation.

Leah and Geri were discussing something, but Sara zoned out.
Just get through dinner. If you finish early enough, there’s a nine-thirty bus back to the Vallejo Ferry Building. If it’s late, catch the ten-thirty bus, the last bus. And when you get home, Nathan will be waiting.
She couldn’t help it, she smiled despite everything.

“
Yeah, I thought that was funny too.”

Sara nearly jumped out of her skin. Priscilla leaned over the table.

“
What? I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“
That story, Leah’s story about her author’s new series. Weren’t you listening? It’s about wolf shifters. They do it in wolf form. That’s hot.”

“
You’re kidding?”

Priscilla shot her a frown. “No, I’m not kidding. Don’t you think it’ll be, well, you know, kind of arousing to read about characters doing it in wolf form?”

Sara looked directly into the woman’s face. “No, I don’t find that arousing. If I want to watch dogs doing it, I can go to the local dog park. Dogs humping each other isn’t my idea of arousing.”

“
Oh really?” Leah spoke up. “What makes you an expert on arousal?”

For Christ’s sake
. She turned to Leah. “I’m not an expert. I’m simply saying dog sex doesn’t turn me on.”

“
Well I think our readers would disagree. Besides, I’m talking about shifter sex in wolf form, not dog sex.”

“
Same difference,” Sara mumbled.

“
All right then.” Leah’s voice held a great deal of contempt. “Tell me what your stories are about.”

When Sara didn’t answer immediately, Geri spoke up. “She writes lovely contemporaries. Her newest is a paranormal.” She tipped her glass of wine in Sara’s direction.

Dear, dear Geri. She really is a nice person
. Grateful, Sara flashed her friend a smile.

“
What’s the paranormal about?”

Crap. I’m cornered
. Sara pushed her plate away. “The heroine is a reluctant seer who…”

Leah dismissed the idea out of hand. “A seer? You mean like a psychic or a mind-reader? Psychics and mind-readers don’t sell.”

Before she could stop herself, Sara blurted out, “Seems to me there’s a very popular series about a mind-reader that’s ended up on HBO.” Ignoring Priscilla’s nervous giggle, Sara returned Leah’s glare.

“
What kind of paranormal creature is your hero? I assume he’s a vampire or a demon, since you don’t find shifters a turn on.” Leah challenged her.

Uncomfortable, realizing she’d be describing Nathan, Sara said, “No, in the beginning he’s incorporeal, but…”

“
You can’t have an incorporeal hero,” Leah interrupted. “Where’s the HEA? You can’t have an HEA with an incorporeal hero; you can’t even have sex with an incorporeal hero. No HEA, no readers. It’ll never sell. Nobody’s going to bite. Nobody’s even going to nibble. Deus ex machina.” Leah smiled as she added that last jab.

“
Vampires are dead. They don’t have blood flowing through their veins, yet they seem to achieve physiologically impossible erections. Frequent, long-lasting erections from what I’ve read. Deus ex machina.” Sara rose from her seat. “When you ask someone a question, the polite thing to do is listen for the answer. Excuse me. I need some fresh air.” Sara did her best not to trip over her bag and lose whatever dignity she had left.

“
What a bitch.” Priscilla made no effort to keep her voice down. Despite the noise and the crowd, Sara had no problem hearing the words as she walked away. She swallowed around the big, fat lump in her throat.

What on earth made you think you had anything to offer a publisher, especially a publisher like Leah Rosen? You are so far beneath her notice; it’s just, well… You think you’re deluded when it comes to incorporeal beings? You’re deluded about fitting into the publishing world.

I’ll take incorporeal beings over Leah Rosen and her giggling sidekick any day.

Sara wandered outside the restaurant and leaned on the railing above the water, trying to regain her composure. The fog had lifted and she could see Treasure Island clear as a bell. If the island hadn’t been in the way, she could have seen the pretty lights strung across the East Bay hills too. Sara forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. The smell of the breeze off the water reminded her of the flavor of the Kusshi oysters.

You know, they weren’t bad. I wouldn’t mind trying them again
. The scent, sight and sound of the water soothed her. Despite the company waiting for her back in the restaurant, Sara had to admit the night was lovely; it was one of those rare clear and mild Bay Area nights.

Maybe I can learn to shuck oysters so Nathan can enjoy them with me. I bet I can find a shucking knife in the kitchen store here…

“
I used to live there.”

“
Huh?” Sara started.

“
Over there.” Geri pointed east. “Of course you can’t see it, but I used to live there. It was a long time ago and it was only for a few months.”

“
Were you in school?”

Geri shook her head. “Living with a guy.”

For several minutes, the two women stood in silence, staring out over the water.

“
Sara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she would be, well, I thought she actually wanted to meet you, that she was paying attention when Mark Katov spoke to her about your work. I feel so stupid. I deluded myself into believing she actually listened to me today. I guess she just wanted a free chauffeur and a couple meals.”

Sara shrugged. What was there to say?

Geri laughed. “You know what I think is really funny?”

“
Hmmm?”

“
I think tomorrow morning she’ll wake up and she won’t remember your name, or my name for that matter, let alone this dinner. Did you try that chicken stir fry? Talk about lousy.”

Again, Sara didn’t respond.
There really is nothing I can say to make this better
.

Geri put an arm around Sara’s shoulders. “Let’s go in and pay up so we can get the hell out of here. I still have to drive the both of them to Saratoga.”

“
Are you going back home tonight?”

Geri shook her head. “Not sure yet. I might stay down there for this seminar. Maybe it’ll get my manuscripts read by somebody.” She laughed. “And God knows I could use some help with my mother.”

The two women returned to the restaurant, arm in arm. As they approached their table, Geri caught the waiter’s eye. “I think we’re ready for the check.”

Without a word, Sara squeezed back in beside Leah. Priscilla made an obvious effort to ignore her, but Leah turned towards her.

“
Let me give you some free advice because this may be your only opportunity to speak with an actual publisher,” she said. “If you want anyone to take an interest in you, not only must you learn to deliver a three-line pitch on cue, you must become branded.”

Sara blinked at her, wondering if Leah expected a response. She opened her mouth to comment, but closed it again when Leah continued speaking.

“
By branding I mean this. You must become McDonald’s. When you go to a McDonald’s anywhere in the world and you buy a cheeseburger, you know you’ll get two pickles on it. That’s what readers want.”

Sara’s mouth fell open. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Two pickles?”

Leah missed the sarcasm. “Yes. Readers want two pickles. They want to know exactly what to expect when they pick up a book by say, well, by any romance writer.”

Wondering if Leah could possibly be serious, Sara kept her eyes glued to the woman’s face. “So you’re saying the reading public wants to read the same book over and over again?”

Leah smiled in a self-satisfied way, as if she believed Sara understood the publishing world at last. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You mix up a few things, maybe reverse the order of events in your previous story, and change the names of your characters. Yes, an emphatic yes. What I’m saying is that you give your readers the same story over and over again. That’s how you succeed in this business. You can’t write contemporary and paranormal and romantic suspense and expect anyone to read your work. You’re not branded. To sell books, just like McDonald’s, you have to make the same cheeseburger over and over again.” Leah slapped her open palm on the table for emphasis. “That’s how you win the game.”

Sara felt like she’d just been transported to the Twilight Zone. She nearly blurted out;
I don’t eat at McDonald’s
. Instead she asked, “Didn’t somebody once say that if you give a monkey a typewriter and enough time, eventually it will type out War and Peace?”

Leah shook her head. “I don’t understand the analogy. I’m telling you how to sell your work – a three line pitch and branding.”

Sara realized the lecture was finished. “I’ll keep your advice in mind.” She reached for the check, but Geri got to it first.

When she and Geri pulled their wallets from their purses, Leah turned to Geri. “You know, after all you’ve done for me today, I really should be paying.” Sara watched to see if she’d actually make a move to pick up the check, but she held perfectly still.

“
Don’t worry about it,” Geri said. “We’ve got it covered.”

Sara handed Geri three twenty dollar bills. As she did, Leah called the waiter over. Lifting the half-full carafe of ice tea, she said, “I’d like this to go.”

The waiter arched his eyebrows. “Would you like me to package up the carafe for you?” His voice dripped sarcasm.

Leah didn’t seem to notice. She studied the glass jar in her hand. “That would be great.”

The man opened his mouth, but nothing came out. At last he said, “I wasn’t serious. We don’t give away our serving items.” He snatched the carafe from Leah. “I’ll bring your tea in a plastic
to-go
cup.”

As the four waited in an uncomfortable silence for Leah’s ice tea, Sara decided she’d had enough. She slipped on her jacket and slid off the bench seat. She bent down to retrieve her leather tote.
Do I thank her for meeting with me, or do I just tell her it’s been interesting? Or do I say nothing?

Be gracious. Thank her for meeting with you
.

Sara stood up straight, careful to keep her bag from bumping the neighboring table. She forced her lips to move. “Priscilla, it’s been a pleasure.” She turned to Leah and tried to catch her eye, but Leah seemed to be busy fussing with her napkin. Sara spoke to her anyway. “Leah, thanks very much for meeting with me. I learned an awful lot tonight.”

Leah looked up. “You really should attend a Bucher Seminar. I think it would do wonders for you.”

Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t roll your eyes.
“I’ll consider it.” She walked over to Geri’s side of the table, leaned down, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Drive safe.”

Sara knew Leah and Priscilla were probably watching her, but she didn’t give a damn. She made a beeline for the hostess.

“
Miss?”

The woman looked up from her computer screen. “Yes?”

“
I want to apologize to you and to the wait staff. I’m sorry for the way our server was treated. Please tell him that for me.”

The woman nodded in reply, a sympathetic smile on her face.

“
And thank you for holding the table.”

“
You’re welcome.” The hostess reached for Sara’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “You come back any time.”

Sara managed a half-hearted smile in return and left the restaurant. She headed to the rear of the Ferry Building, certain that Geri and her party would leave by the front door. Glancing up at the clock, she noted that it was nine-forty. She’d missed the bus by ten minutes. Her only choice was to hang out until ten-thirty and catch the last bus to Vallejo.