"Ms. Carmichael. Well, Travis, I'd like to speak to you in person. There're a few things I'd like to discuss. The profanity, for one thing, will severely limit the market--but as I said, I'd rather talk to you in person."
"Sure. Okay. But tell me, like I clean up the language and stuff, you'll probably publish it, right?"
There was a short sigh. "I should have known from your novel ... Yes, if we can agree on some revision, we'd like to publish it."
Travis remained silent, trying to understand. This was really happening...
"I want you to understand, there's usually not a lot of money involved for a first novel--don't go out and buy a Porsche. But if we can get this to the right audience, I think word of mouth might be terrific ... Travis, are you still there?"
"Yeah."
"Have you told anyone?"
"There's nobody here to tell."
"Oh. Well, I'll write soon and let you know when I'll be there. Can I have your new address and phone?"
After he hung up he dialed Mom. She'd be nuts. He'd like to see the look on Stan's face. There was nobody home. He called Joe. He'd be nuts. There was nobody home. He called Ken at the office and his secretary said he was in a meeting. Travis was having trouble breathing. He walked around and around in circles.
Motorboat jumped up on the sofa and Travis grabbed him and shook him. "I sold my book! I sold my book!"
Motorboat twisted loose and ran.
He might as well tell Casey--she'd be down at the barn by now. He might as well tell her, she'd find out anyway.
He had to tell somebody.
Jennifer and Kelsey were hanging on the arena rails.
"Hey," he said. "Guess ... What's going on?"
Casey was riding the Star Runner. He had never seen her ride him before. She was cantering him around in a small circle while a lady stood on the side.
"More inside leg, Case. You need more bend."
"What's going on?" he repeated. He kept looking at the Star Runner's face. He could swear it was seething with rage.
"Oh, look at that frame!" Kelsey sighed. "He's so beautiful."
Beautiful, yes. Breathtakingly beautiful--but for a second Travis had a cold, irrational fear: This was no flesh-and-blood animal at all, but something demonic...
Casey sat deep in the saddle, using her whole body, back, legs, shoulders, to maintain that hold, her will against his will.
"Casey's taking a riding lesson?"
"Dressage," Jennifer said. "It's a real technical form of equitation."
"Good, Casey. Very good. Downward transition to a walk." The instructor dropped her voice as Casey came up to talk.
"I just don't see how Casey can stand it. He just hates all this. He's never going to love her."
Travis was remembering some of the stories he'd been hearing around the barn, about the Star Runner, bits and pieces he hadn't paid much attention to before.
How he'd been a lunatic horse, practically given away off the racetrack, how he'd jump out of his paddock to race alone in the pasture. Casey's biggest fear was he'd kill himself running one of these hot days--he didn't know how to stop running. The kids wouldn't go near him. Only Robyn was brave enough, or stupid enough, or stoned enough, to groom him. He'd bitten one of the handlers at the track, tearing off a chunk of flesh--Casey herself had a scar on her forehead, he'd reared up on her while she was leading him. Casey, laughing, called it the mark of the beast.
"Don't be silly, Jenna," Kelsey was saying. "Casey doesn't care if he loves her."
Casey rode next to where they were standing, her face abstracted and intent.
"Casey, you don't care if the Star Runner loves you, right?" Kelsey asked.
Travis couldn't believe she had the nerve to break in on Casey's exhilaration. He knew the feeling. Like walking to the front step after a good chapter and finding the guys blithering about getting laid, getting drunk.
Casey didn't have time to connect to what she was saying before Kelsey went on, "You just want him to love jumping, right?"
Travis said, "She wants him to do it because he can do it."
Casey stared at him for a second, startled.
Okay, he thought, staring back, I do know you better than anyone else does. Think that over, lady.
He turned and walked off. He didn't want to tell her about the book right now. Jennifer and Kelsey would get silly excited, but Casey, right now, would say, "Yeah? That's great," or something offhand that would make him mad. He didn't want to be mad right now. He didn't want to be mad, and didn't want to hear that a damn dumb, crazy gray horse was more important than his book.
His book. He'd sold his book. For a few minutes there he'd been sidetracked, but it came flooding back over him now, and he knew what he wanted to do. Right now. As soon as he could.
He wanted to party till he puked.
He had never hitchhiked much at home, he hadn't needed to, his hangouts were in walking distance even if he hadn't had friends with wheels. And he didn't know anywhere to go, here.
He sipped a water-glass full of whiskey while he thought it over. Crown Royal was great, he decided, pouring a Coke-bottle full to take with him. It was just going to waste here; he'd never seen Ken drink anything more than a couple of beers.
He finished his glass with a couple of quick gulps. Hell, he'd just ask his ride where to go.
It was too hot for his leather jacket but he wore it anyway. He needed a place to stash his Coke bottle. Besides ... besides, between the jacket, and the whiskey, and news about his book, he was starting to feel like his old self again.
He ended up on a really good street. That was the good news. There were several clubs with live music, a couple of packed restaurants, and the clientele seemed to be pretty upscale; it didn't look like he'd have to spend the evening worrying about getting jumped.
The bad news was, it looked like the only thing open to somebody his age was the Quik Trip. He had a fake ID, but it gave his age as eighteen, so it was no good here. He strolled up and down the street a few times, checking things out, making a game plan.
One club was so packed that people spilled out onto the parking lot and sidewalks, wandering around with drinks in their hands, laughing and yelling to each other. It was hard to tell exactly where the club began and ended. These people probably were twenty-one, but not much more than that; he didn't feel conspicuous at all, hanging around the edges.
He bummed a cigarette, asked about the band, kept an eye on the doorway where the IDs were being checked. It wasn't too long before he had a chance to slip in.
He played it cool, squeezing into the back of the crowd, staying away from the bartenders. He picked up an empty glass to pour his whiskey into; when one of the harried cocktail waitresses saw him, she assumed someone had checked his ID when he bought a drink. It looked like he was going to get away with it. He relaxed and surveyed the scene.
It was the worst possible place for live music. The acoustics were so bad it was like being in a tin cave, and unless you were right up front you couldn't even see the band. But the music didn't seem to be important.
People stood around in small groups and yelled in each other's ears, the guys checked out the chicks, the chicks looked the guys over, sometimes the two groups ran together. They all seemed incredibly dumb to Travis. But then, when he had been ten, teenagers had seemed incredibly dumb, and by the time he was twelve he was dying to be one--maybe it was going to be like that.
Right now he couldn't imagine g
iving up hanging out for this kind of scene.
He bummed a Virginia Slim from a couple of girls.
"You look awfully young to be in here." The redhead, in tight jeans, high heels, and T-shirt, kept wiggling around to the music. She obviously wanted to dance.
"I just turned twenty-one today," Travis said. "I'm celebrating."
"Really? All by yourself?"
"I'm new in town--just started law school."
God, it felt good, the whiskey, the music, the telling of a story; it was like he'd been walking in his sleep the whole time he'd been here, up till now.
"So you're a Virgo, huh?" The dark-haired girl was a little drunk.
"Do you know Jim Beals?" said the redhead. "He's in law school."
"I don't think so. I just started--you ever heard of Morris and Harris? That's my uncle's firm."
"Oh, yeah, I've heard of them."
"I wouldn't have thought you'd be a Virgo. I would have said Aquarius."
Travis almost jumped--he was an Aquarius. But he just shook his head.
"This is the first night I've been out since I moved to town. Any other good hangouts?"
They talked awhile longer--Travis trying to remember lawyer-type words he'd heard Ken use. The girls insisted on buying him a birthday drink--he went to the john when they called the waitress over. He'd never had a margarita before, it was pretty good stuff. They kept talking. When it was time for the next round he gave them the money for it and headed off for the john again. They probably thought he was tooting up or had the world's weakest bladder.
He got drunk enough to make a big mistake--he told them about his book. The dark-haired girl had been skeptical from the first, but he and the redhead had been having fun; now he lost them both.
"Oh, yeah, sure, you have a book coming out."
And when he kept insisting--dammit, he had to tell somebody--they started disbelieving everything. He knew exactly when it dawned on them he wasn't twenty-one either. He'd lapsed into talking like sixteen and couldn't stop it.
They finally said they were going to the ladies' room. Of course they had to go together. He spotted them twenty minutes later with some other guys.
So what? He found an empty chair at the back of the room, almost got into a fight over it--people were lurking like vultures to pounce on empty chairs.
He was in a crowd and still lonesome. It was as bad as school. He wished he'd told Casey after all, it would have been better than wasting it on those bimbos. He tried to picture Casey in this place...