It takes a minute or two, but eventually everyone is introduced to one another. Of course, Ben and Tony know of one another. They were competitors, in a way. Not that writers are really in competition, but take it from a twenty-year editorial veteran, they act like they are.
We’d left the shooting gallery and we’re now seated at one of the picnic tables, plates of barbeque and cold beers set before us.
“I’d heard the publishing company went bust last month,” Ben says. “In a way, I was heartbroken, because I knew how much you loved it there, how much heart and soul you put into your books and authors. At least, that’s how you treated me for all those years, doll.”
Tony’s face goes noticeably tight when Ben calls me doll. I’ve become so used to it over the course of all these years that i
