THE CRITIC Page 3

  “Are you crazy? Not only did they mention our names but they mentioned our group and ARW by name. This thing is not going to go away.”

  “Come on, Liz.” Toreas stopped. She had to try and convince herself as well as her friend.

  “Listen, he’s on independent television, he’s not much more than just a small time cable guy trying to get some free publicity for the station. If I ignore him, eventually he’ll go away.”

  “Maybe, but you know we can’t keep this contained locally any longer. KGB may be independent and it might not be anywhere near as large as WGN, but it is a lot bigger than just a local cable show. Everyone’s going to find out.”

  Toreas sighed and glanced at her dinner, no longer hungry. “Yeah, I’m dreading the next meeting. I’m sorry I hit the guy and that I got the rest of you involved in my mess.”

  “You’re sorry?”

  “Of course I am. I don’t know what came over me. I just hit him without thinking.”

  “Then tell him that,” Liz snapped. “You can end this thing before it goes any farther.”

  Her support base was slipping. If Liz wanted her to tell the guy she was sorry, what would the rest of the group think? What would Kelle think about her blaming her self-defense class for her own boorish behavior?

  “Liz, that’s my other line. I have to go now.”

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Well, I did. I’ll talk to you later.”

  There was not another call waiting but Toreas wasn’t in the mood to be scolded. She wished she had never contacted the station, had never gotten angry at the way Jared was portraying romance writers and readers.

  Now she’d made the whole thing worse. To top it off, Liz had not mentioned once that Jared was faking and she had been there. Liz knew the guy wasn’t seriously injured and definitely not his arm.

  Why wasn’t anyone sticking up for her? Probably because you’re wrong. The thought popped into her head from out of nowhere. It didn’t matter. She still wasn’t going to go back on that darn show, not ever.

  No sooner had the thought formed in her mind than the inevitable began. Her phone rang. One after the other, the members of her group called or emailed and asked her what she had done to Jared Stone.

  It no longer worked to blame Kelle, so Toreas attempted to minimize what had happened by saying Jared had kissed her and she hit him.

  Technically what she said was true. She just had the order of the events wrong. She found she got more sympathy from her polished version, though. She’d thought it would make her feel better. She had wanted sympathy. Now she had it, but it was all a big fat lie. Besides, there was a good chance they would see what happened when the tape was shown.

  Toreas sighed and shook her head, wishing again as she had in the past weeks that she’d never turned the sound up. If only she’d kept it muted she would have never heard the mean things Jared Stone was saying. He would still be her hero. She could feel herself glaring and had to wonder if the real reason she was so angry with Jared was that he’d shown her hero to have feet of clay.

  Moaning in despair, Toreas took her phone off the hook, no longer wanting to talk to anyone. Her stomach was all tied in knots from worrying if Jared would really sue her. Heck, she didn’t have any money. She’d never even sold a book. How would she pay him?

  ***

  She dreamt that night of brown eyes with flecks of gold and dimpled cheeks, of soft sensuous lips kissing her until she was dizzy.

  Toreas awoke with a start, realizing she had been dreaming of Jared Stone, her worst nightmare.

  For the next several days she busied herself on her computer and fielded the calls, refusing to do any more explaining. She had already sent word over the loop that she had lost her temper and punched the man. She didn’t know what the group really thought; she had been too afraid to open her emails.

  God. And they’d wanted a chance to appear on Oprah. Toreas shuddered to think what would have happened to her if she had done to the queen of talk shows what she had done to Jared.

  Well, that’s different, she told herself. The queen doesn’t care much for us, but at least she doesn’t go around trashing us either.

  She had to wonder what Jared’s agenda was. Didn’t he have anything else to talk about? Why his sudden interest and increasingly vicious attacks on a group of writers who had done nothing to him?

  Apparently the station had given him her number because Jared was calling her repeatedly. The man was tenacious, she had to give him that. He alternated between threatening her and trying to charm her. When that failed, he’d tried to reason with her, convince her it would be good for her. No way would Toreas’s being around Jared be good for her. Her emotions where he was concerned were too conflicted.

  Even now with everything that was happening she couldn’t stop herself from turning the television channel to Jared’s show. For a few moments she watched him with the sound muted and then she closed her eyes and turned up the volume.

  Is there such a thing as love at first sight? This reporter recently attempted to ask romance writer Toreas Rose. Her answer was, “No comment.” That sounds like a big fat no to me. The writer knows how to throw a punch but does she know the first thing about love? For that matter, it appears Ms. Rose doesn’t even know how to apologize when she’s done something wrong. Believe me, I’ve held out the olive branch to her. I would think that as a romance writer she would want to come on the show and see what would happen. Maybe we could have real chemistry if she’d only give it a chance. Wouldn’t a true romantic wonder? Maybe coming on my show would give her new material for a book. How does she know what could happen if she doesn’t give it a chance? Maybe I could be the man of her dreams. But will she give either of us a chance to find out? The answer to that, dear viewer, is a no. Stay tuned and I’ll bring you more tomorrow on the world of romance and Toreas Rose.

  Toreas was furious. Jared Stone couldn’t just use her name like that. And what he said, surely it had to be considered slander. She frowned, trying to remember. No, he had not lied, but still he’d insinuated things. She reached for the phone and immediately put it back down. That was how their war had gotten started in the first place.

  Yet the next week Toreas found herself once again turning the channel to Straight up-No chaser. Surely by now he was talking about something else. Jared stared into the red light of the camera as if he’d been waiting for her. It was funny, the way he smiled as though he knew she was watching. What was wrong with that man?

  “Toreas Rose, are you out there watching? I know you are,” Jared purred. “Today we’re going to talk about, you guessed it, romance writers. Toreas, just this past month alone I’ve counted thirty-seven stories of the amnesiac bride. Do you really think that many women are walking around marrying guys when they’ve lost their memory?” Jared snickered. “Maybe that’s the reason women write romances and other women read them. Maybe you’ve all lost your memories. Toreas, I’m extending an open invitation to you to come on my show and tell my viewers your side of the romance story.”

  Toreas didn’t know what else Jared said because she turned off the set. The man was infuriating. He was definitely better at looking pretty than keeping his mouth shut.

  This was the last straw for her. Someone had to do something. If, as he claimed, he never read the stuff, why was he defaming it? And why did he have so many accurate statistics?

  It was all a mystery, one she didn’t care to solve. Jared Stone could rot in hell as far as she was concerned.

  ***

  Toreas walked into her bi-monthly writers meeting with trepidation. Not only hadn’t that stupid incident with Jared blown over, it had gotten worse.

  The late night talk shows had picked up on it and Jared was all over the place looking pitiful, pretending that he was injured.

  On Letterman, he’d even produced a document that he claimed was from his doctor. She knew it had to be forged. There was nothing wrong with the man. She was
the one who’d used Ben-Gay for a week and slept with a heating pad.

  Her entire family was up in arms over this nonsense. Her brothers, Michael and Billy, were ready to move to Chicago to protect her.

  When her father phoned her from Georgia, that was the topper. He was ready to fly to Chicago on a moment’s notice and kick Jared’s butt properly. It had taken some doing to reassure him that the newspaper articles and news stories were exaggerated and were only the very clever work of a crafty publicity hound.

  “Listen,” he’d told her. “I don’t like what the man has accused you of. I know you were raised better than to attack someone and especially not in public—not on television—unless the man molested you. Did he?”

  Toreas could hear her father’s voice raised in anger. Molested no, kissed yes. But she knew better than to even joke about that. Her father was serious.

  “Tesa, did that man molest you?”

  “No, Daddy, it’s just his way of thinking he’s clever. He’s going for ratings. I had no idea an independent station could garner such attention. I guess I forgot about satellite TV. You don’t have to worry about me. This will die down if I refuse to respond.”

  “It hasn’t so far,” her father growled. “I can make it stop tomorrow.”

  “Daddy, it’s my problem. I’ll deal with it. Don’t worry.”

  “I knew something like this would happen. I should have never allowed your mother to influence my decision to allow you to move to Chicago. Your wanting to write was one thing. I never thought your leaving home was a smart idea. One thing I haven’t changed my mind about is your new friends. I don’t want you hanging around with those women in that writers’ group. They’re putting bad ideas into your head, making you write trash. We raised you as a Christian and what you want to write has nothing to do with Christianity.”

  “I know, Dad. If it’s not edifying the kingdom, it’s of no value.” She said what he wanted to hear. What good would it do to tell him that her group had not influenced her? That she’d smuggled romance novels to Sunday school tucked between her bible and her lessons. Talking disappointed—-He’d be even more disappointed if he knew she had a massager, and not for back rubs.

  “Don’t forget our agreement,” her father continued. “It’ll soon be two years. I expect you to honor your word. I want you to come home where I can keep an eye on you.”

  “Daddy, I’m a grown woman.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You’re always going to be my baby.”

  Toreas remembered the agreement well. She’d known when he proposed the deal that it could be the same for her as making a deal with the devil. When her father had challenged her to quit her job and take two years to concentrate on her writing, to become a professional in that time or stop, she’d known the risk she was taking. She knew he was aware of how many people failed after a decade of trying. Still, the offer was the best one she’d had, so she’d accepted. His monthly checks had supplemented her savings, allowing her to live in Chicago and write full time. Living in Chicago hadn’t been part of her plan but she’d thought it best to see something more of the world than Georgia. Her mother had agreed.

  A shiver trailed over her spine, bringing Toreas back to her meeting. She glanced at Becca’s scowling face and at her fiery red hair. Hair that was so red that she could have been gifted with it only from the devil himself. That color couldn’t be found in a bottle. It was all her own and now it appeared to be ready to burst into flames as Becca fixed her with a glare that would have melted a glacier. If only Toreas hadn’t been thinking of her father and the deal she’d made with him, those thoughts of Becca would have never popped into her head.

  “I hear you’ve been very busy making things hard for all of us. It would have been nice if you had bothered to answer any of my calls or the dozen emails I sent you.”

  And it would be nice if we were having this conversation in private, Toreas thought. But then again, what she had done had affected the entire group, hadn’t it?

  “Listen, Becca, I’m sorry and I want to apologize to the group for any embarrassment I may have inadvertently caused.”

  She looked around the room, gauging the temperature, wondering if everyone was freezing her out. Some of the faces were trying hard not to smile and they almost succeeded, that is, until Kelle spoke.

  “I understand you hurt yourself more than you did Jared,” Kelle said.

  Toreas was pretty sure that was a smirk she saw on Kelle’s face. “Yeah, I think I might have delivered the punch wrong.” She was still standing as though waiting for permission to sit.

  “I guess you’ll pay more attention next time. If you hit a guy right he shouldn’t have the strength to get back up and kiss you, nor should he want to.”

  Kelle’s gaze darted around the room. Toreas noted her usually calm veneer was now agitated. She took teaching women self-defense seriously.

  The fact that the failure of one of her pupils to carry out her instructions to the letter had caused injury to the student and not the perpetrator angered her. The entire chapter knew Kelle’s stance on this issue.

  Her look was so fierce that Toreas started laughing. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself, not even after Becca started ringing her bell for attention. She couldn’t stop.

  Her laugh was infectious. One after the other, the women started laughing, that is, all but Becca. With her red hair, a pitchfork would have been all that she needed to complete the look she was giving them. Yep, her look was telling them all to go straight to hell.

  The woman was in league with the dark angel, the big kahuna himself, the old red one. Satan.

  Toreas sank back into a chair, staring at Becca with tears of amusement running down her face, smearing mascara in uneven tracks. She did her best to pull herself together.

  “I really am sorry.” She bit her upper lip, needing to feel grounded, needing to stop the now almost hysterical laughter she was feeling. Becca was glaring at her and all the women who continued to laugh.

  “This isn’t funny,” she began. “This affects all of our careers. Think about that, ladies, while you’re laughing, smiling, or smirking.”

  Becca had raised her voice but it wasn’t the tone that stopped the laughter. It was her words.

  “Toreas, you started this by going on that show. Correction, by calling them. We never gave a darn about the man. Most of us had never heard of him. Now the whole world knows who he is and we’re all just one big joke.”

  Toreas squirmed in her seat as Becca’s look pinned her.

  “Those readers you wanted to defend, do you think you’ve helped them? I’ll tell you the answer. No. Now they’ll have to go back to hiding romance books in brown paper bags.”

  Brown paper bags? Where does Becca get this stuff? No one uses paper bags anymore, they use plastic. The image of a group of romance readers hiding their books was hysterical. It was only with strong-willed determination that Toreas didn’t start laughing again.

  She had hoped that Becca was done. No such luck. It seemed she had only paused long enough to allow what she was saying to sink in.

  “Toreas, you’re an adult, not a three-year-old. You should know how to control your temper.”

  “I thought it was only in fiction that people can be perfectly controlled,” Toreas answered. “I thought a real person is allowed to be imperfect.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Toreas watched as one by one Becca froze them all with a glare, and then sat back in her seat.

  Okay, she had to stop being childish. It wasn’t fair to try and blame her friends for not supporting her when what’d she’d done was affecting all of them. They were a great bunch of women and she was lucky to have them as part of her support system.

  Only right now she could feel her support giving way as though it had been built on sand, and she didn’t like the feeling.

  She was aware of what they all wanted her to do. It seemed a simple enough thing,
to go back on the show and tell Jared Stone she was wrong. If it would end there, maybe, just maybe, she would consider it.

  But she doubted that had ever been Jared’s intention and now that he’d gotten national attention, there was no way he was going to let her off with a simple apology.

  Toreas licked her lips, eyeing the huge bottle of water that Lauren brought with her to each meeting and wishing she could have a drop.

  There wasn’t even any spit in her mouth. How the heck could she go back on television when she couldn’t even talk to her group?

  She cleared her throat several times and sighed loudly. “I can’t go back, he would crucify me. I couldn’t even talk when I was there.”

  Liz glanced over at her. “She’s right, Becca. When you see the tape you’ll see she sat glued to her seat, scared to death.”

  “Yeah, she couldn’t even name our group or tell him what it stands for. The most basic things she couldn’t even answer. It was pretty disgusting.”

  Thanks a lot, Wendy. Was that supposed to be support? Toreas wanted more than anything to glare at Wendy, but for now she decided to let it go.

  Now not only was her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth but it seemed her butt was glued to the chair. She wiggled trying to get comfortable, wanting something to drink. She eyed Lauren’s water again. She didn’t feel her legs would carry her to the fountain in the hall. God, what she wouldn’t give for a drink right now.

  “Can’t you just write him a note?”

  Elysa was staring at her with something akin to contempt. Toreas stared back. “I supposed I could. What would I say?”

  “You’re a writer, use your imagination.”

  Becca turned in her direction. “It’s agreed then. You’ll write the man a note and get him off our backs.”

  “I’ll write the note, but remember, he was on our backs before any of this happened.”

  One after the other she could feel rather than see the women looking at her, thinking that if she just wrote the note the problem would go away.