Nodding, she said, “Yep! That’s me!”
“Your books are amazing!” Vanessa gushed. “And you’re so young! I mean this as a compliment but you write like someone much older.”
Like, someone who’s, say, fifty-one? Oh, and a man?
“Thanks,” Sally said. “That means a lot. I try to make sure the reader focuses more on the story and not on how my youth may affect the tone of the narrative.”
Holy shit!
Sally gave herself a mental pat on the back. She was getting really good at this bullshitting about being a famous author thing.
She then made an excuse about needing to get back to Amy quickly, even though she was willing to bet money that Amy wasn’t even aware she had gone, and gave Vanessa her coffee order. When she opened her purse to pull out her wallet, Vanessa waved her off.
“On the house, please,” Vanessa told her.
“No!” Sally exclaimed.
She was perfectly fine pretending to be Jillian Ashley to the occasional woman here and there who recognized her. And she was perfectly fine with autographing a fawning intern’s book or coming up with nonsense about “the tone of the narrative,” but she was not going to start accepting freebies using Jillian’s name!
“I insist, really,” Vanessa said…insistently.
Sally thought fast. She knew she was at risk of offending Vanessa and she didn’t want that.
“It’s so super sweet,” she said. “But I have this hard and fast rule that I won’t trade on my celebrity.” Another idea came to her and she quickly pulled out a twenty. “Look, you agree to take this money and I’ll even autograph it for you!”
Vanessa laughed but before she could again insist that the coffees were on the house, Sally grabbed a pen from the collection in the holder on the counter and which were provided for customers to sign their credit card receipts and started scribbling on the bill.
“To Vanessa,” Sally recited as she wrote, “the most gorgeous barista in Carlsbad! Love, Jillian Ashley!”
The signature was still blech but as it was only the second time she ever wrote it, Sally cut herself some slack.
And Vanessa certainly didn’t seem to mind. Picking up the twenty-dollar bill, she stared at the inscription, her eyes telegraphing her pleasure.
“FYI,” Vanessa said, “a jealous little woman with auburn hair may show up at your house wanting to pick a fight one day. That will be my fiancée, Megan. Ignore her.”
“No problem,” Sally said with a laugh.
Vanessa carefully folded the autographed bill and put it in one of the pockets of her skinny jeans.
“Thanks for the autograph,” she said. “You made my day. I’ll get your change.”
Sally wanted to scream.
She knew Vanessa was going to keep that twenty-dollar bill as a prized possession. Which meant that—as odd as it was—even though Sally was now twenty dollars poorer, she still hadn’t technically paid for the coffee as the money hadn’t gone into the register. That didn’t bother her so much; she was still out twenty bucks a
nd thus could go to sleep tonight feeling like she hadn’t traded on her fake fame as a top lesfic author.
But…if she allowed Vanessa to give her the change, Vanessa would be out even more money.
“A tip!” she said. “Please, keep the change!”
It was too early in the morning for all these mental gymnastics.
Vanessa frowned.
“Are you sure? That’s a big tip…”
“Totally sure!” Sally said. “I’m a big tipper! You know, all those…”