The Novelist Pt. 09

"Marie!" He shouted. "Get over here right now." He pushed into the yard searching for his wife. "Marie!"

The girls moved out of the way clearing a path. This stranger seemed out of place.

******

"Sir!" Alexis said urgently grabbing Tom's shoulder as he pulled himself from Karen's pussy. She whined her disapproval as his thick girth disappeared from inside her.

"It's your dad."

Tom looked up with alarm. He didn't expect to see him. He was certain that those pictures would have finally sent him on his way. He turned around and moved back toward the gate. His father was going to ruin the entire evening.

"Hey!" Tom yelled getting John's attention as he got closer to him.

"Get the fuck out of my way." John seethed as he scanned the guests looking for Marie. "I want your mother right now! You hear me? Right now!"

"She's not going anywhere with you." Tom said blocking his path.

"You don't get to tell me what to do!" The words sounded a bit unbalanced. "I'm going home, and she's coming with me."

He looked terrible. His black eye was dark and angry.

"I'm not going to let that happen." Tom replied trying to calm him down. "Have you been drinking again? You should go back to the hotel and sleep it off."

John reached into his pocket and pulled out a handgun. His arm shook a little. "You see this? It means you stay away from me."

He jabbed it out in front of him as he punctuated each word.

Tom immediately stepped back as the gasps of alarm spread through the crowd.

"Christ, dad. What are you doing? You're going to hurt someone. Put that thing away." He finally registered just how unstable his father looked. "You're going to get yourself into serious trouble. You don't want that and I don't want that. Just calm down."

"I won't calm down." He said waving the gun in front of him. "I'm done being calm! Where's Marie? Marie!"

"I'm not going to let her leave with you." Tom said very carefully. "You're not acting right. It's not safe."

John didn't like that answer. It was evident in his expression.

"Just point that at me." Tom tried to get his attention. "No one else here has done anything to you."

John's wild eyes were tearing up. "You don't get to take everything from me. Do you hear me? You don't." John sniffled now.

He was borderline hysterical. He kept thinking about the inscription his son wrote in his book. Then his expression shifted to a blank, empty stare.

"If you don't send out your mother... then ... I... I'm going to take away what you love! Maybe that'll teach you." He said looking around. "Which one is it?" He demanded. "It's this one, right?"

He leveled the gun at Alexis.

In a moment of sheer panic and terror, Tom leapt out pushing Alexis out of the way. His quick movements startled John. His finger squeezed a little too far and the gun fired. The sound echoed through the canyon. The bullet tore through Tom's lower back and he hit the flagstone with a thud. John watched it happen as if it were in slow motion. He stood there, arms shaking, as he realized what he had just done.

Alexis unleashed a blood curdling scream.

"Sir?" She cried crawling toward him. "Sir?!" She saw the blood pouring from his belly.

The bullet had gone straight through. She clamped her hand down trying to stop it. It flowed up through her fingers darkening her engagement ring.

"What did you do?!" She screamed. "What did you do?" She looked down seeing a scared, worried look in his eyes. "Somebody do something!"

She brushed his face with her blood stained fingers.

"Stay with me, baby. You're not allowed to leave me. Not now."

******

Frank immediately grabbed for his phone dialing nine-one-one. He called out to Stephen who wasn't too far away.

"Get those women untied and get everyone inside and dressed." He spoke quickly. "Everyone inside now!"

The phone connected. "I'd like to report a shooting..."

******

John heard the man dial the police. The crushing reality was overwhelming him. He saw his son lying on the ground with the blonde woman desperately trying to stop the bleeding. What had he done? His fragile demeanor cracked further. He looked up and saw his son's friend physically lifting his wife off the ground to keep her from running to her little boy. He carried her away as she hung in his arms limply with hers outstretched toward Tom -- devastated and in pain.

John began to slowly step backward. He turned toward the back gate and then ran as fast as could to get to the car. He was breathless and scared. If he'd just gone home, he thought. If he'd never made advances toward that masseuse or if he had showed some sympathy toward his wife, then maybe everything would be okay. What had happened to him, he wondered. What was he supposed to do now?

He swung open the car door and climbed inside. He fumbled the keys trying to get them in the ignition. Then he stopped. Where would he go? What did he have left? He stared straight ahead until he heard sirens faintly in the distance. He murdered his son. He didn't mean to. He only intended on scaring him and getting Marie. That was the plan. Just scare him and show him that you couldn't push people around. But the trigger pulled so easily. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

His breathing became calm. The tears stopped. John lifted the firearm to his temple.

******

Erik ran back outside with towels for Alexis. She pressed them down trying to get him to hang on a little longer. Tom's eyes were closing weakly. She screamed louder.

"Go inside." Erik said softly. "I won't let anything happen to him."

He wasn't sure if that were true. He was in bad shape.

She didn't move.

"Alexis!" He said louder getting her attention. "You need to put on clothes. Then come back out. The police will be here soon."

Frank watched them and assessed the situation. Then he ran out to direct the ambulance. He rushed around the corner of the house just as the muzzle flash lit up the rental at the bottom of the driveway. The window tinted blood red.

Frank flinched realizing what it meant.

******

Everyone was in a panic inside. The girls cried as Stephen and Jim tried to calm everyone down and get them presentable as quickly as possible. No one could believe it happened. The second gunshot was startling. Jim looked to Stephen wondering what had happened out there. They didn't move they just continued to maintain sanity.

Alexis walked in covered in blood. She trudged forward like a woman who had lost everything and had nothing left to live for. And then she collapsed in the living room.

******

"No!" Erik yelled at his friend. "Stay with me. Keep your eyes on me. Don't close them." He demanded.

Tom felt weak and cold. He could barely hear the voices any longer. His eyes closed as he lost consciousness.

******

Tom stared at a bright white light. He was lost in thought, and his mind was wandering. Thinking. The last few years of his life had been filled with good fortune. It never occurred to him that he would have to answer for his actions. He wondered if the decisions he'd made up to this point were worth it. Perhaps if he had chosen a simpler life or a more conventional life then this would never have happened.

"Mr. Bolden, are you ready?"

Tom snapped from his reverie. Kimmie took a handkerchief and dabbed his forehead.

"You're standing right in front of the light, Sir. You're sweating." She said moving him slightly. "Are you sure you're okay?" She asked. "We can move this interview. It doesn't matter if they're all set up. You give me the word and I'll have them out."

She snapped her fingers to express just how quickly she could clear the room.

"No." Tom said turning to face her. "I'm fine."

She took a lint roller and cleaned his shirt one more time. Then she tilted his head back toward her.

"Remember what we discussed, Sir. Control your destiny. You own this interview. Nobody is going to master you today."

He quietly reminded himself that he needed to have a talk with her about all the self-help and power books she'd been reading. Then he turned and looked back at the white, hot lights glaring at him from the camera set up. He closed his eyes and took a breath finding his calm.

"I'm ready." He announced taking a seat on the sofa in his living room.

He looked up at Tabitha Watkins. She was a petite, British woman that had an interview program that syndicated on multiple cable networks. Tom dreaded talking to her. He considered her show to be more of a gossip program that sensationalized national news. Since the incident, his life had been an object of fascination and speculation by news media, talk shows and tabloids alike. It had become an undeniable nuisance, and now he finally decided to lay it all to rest. He had no other choice.

Tom kicked a foot up on the couch and tucked it underneath him laying his left arm along the back of the sofa. It was a casual position and he felt it showed there was nothing to hide. He felt good. It had taken him months before he agreed to an interview. He had thought it through and chosen the program with the utmost care.

"Welcome," Tabitha began looking at the camera, "I'm here with the New York Times best-selling author, Tom Bolden. It's a rare treat that I get to book a first time interview with such a sought after author." She turned her attention toward Tom. "What made you decide to start doing interviews after so many years hiding behind a pseudonym?"

"I suppose it's the hope that this will be the only interview I ever do. I'm not exactly excited about the exposure. I'm a private person." He answered.

Tabitha tried not to show her dislike for his answer.

"Well, let me start by saying Happy Birthday." She changed tact. "At thirty-two years old, you just topped the list of highest grossing novelists." She held up an article. "I was lucky to get an advance copy of the article before it was published. What do you have to say about that?"

"It's humbling." Tom said looking down briefly. "I'm honored to have any fan base at all. I've never considered myself to be very talented."

"Well the success of your recent trilogy would suggest otherwise. You've dominated the New York Times best seller lists for the past nine months. I've heard that your publisher is having trouble keeping up with demand."

"It's been a very good year." Tom responded simply.

"What do you say to your detractors? What would you say to the people that think you push a lifestyle that's misogynistic and promotes violence against women?"

Tom lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at this question. Tabitha smiled at the reaction she was getting.

"I'd say that they are entitled to their opinion. I'd also venture to guess that they haven't read my books, nor do they understand the lifestyle. Bondage and submission have nothing to do with misogyny or violence. Perhaps if the topic weren't considered so taboo then there would be fewer people committing violent acts in the name of culture that doesn't accept them as one of their own."

"And you understand the lifestyle, Mr. Bolden?"

"I've made enough friends to understand it better than most." He replied.

"You brought up taboo, so I might as well ask you about your newest novel. You've broached a topic rarely touched by noted novelists."

"I have."

"What made you choose incest?"

"I was told it couldn't be done. I like to defy what people consider conventional."

"No other reason?"

"Not really."

"Some people are saying that the attempted murder-suicide last year committed by your father was due in part to some secret relationship with your mother." She punctuated the question just so in order to get a rise out of him.

"All conjecture, speculation, rumor and lies. I'm not discouraging anyone from spreading those rumors. It's certainly going to line my pockets if you look at presales."

"So it's not a biography of sorts?"

"Of course not." He laughed.

"Well I'll point out that the title of the book, The Novelist," She held up and advanced copy, "has driven many to believe that the protagonist is based on you. It is story about a young novelist that falls into a seedy world of bondage, submission, mystery and murder while he tries to research the lifestyle for an upcoming book. The parallels are uncanny considering the events exactly one year ago today and the content of your previous books."

"I think everyone should buy a copy and judge for themselves." Tom responded. "In fact, I think they should buy two."

"Can we talk about the shooting?" She asked. "Would you be willing to say what happened in your otherwise idyllic life that led to such a horrific event?"

"There's not much too tell." He responded. "My father suffered some sort of psychosis along with a midlife crisis. My parents were going through a contentious divorce. Some people unravel. Maybe I should have seen the signs. Maybe I should have been more careful as I struggled to help them resolve their issues. It doesn't much matter now. What happened was tragic. What else is there to say than that?"

"The early reports after the shooting said you almost died. Is that true?"

"I lost a lot of blood. The bullet entered my lower back missing my vertebrae by three quarters of an inch. It exited just above my navel. It did some significant damage, and the blood loss was significant. I'm thankful for the emergency services response time. I owe them my life."

"And do you have regrets?" She asked trying to corner him into an emotional response.

Tom studied her for a long moment. "No." He replied introspectively. "I have another friend that passed away this year. My barber, Sam. He once told me that we're men. We have principles and we make our decisions on the very principles we wish to espouse. We don't often change our core beliefs just because we get a glimpse of the outcome. Maybe some people would consider that reactionary or bull headed. It struck a chord with me. I've made plenty of choices in my life, and I'll live with the consequences for better or worse, without regret."

She let his comments linger for a beat. If nothing else, Tabitha Watkins liked to add a bit of drama to any interview.

"I'm sorry for your loss." She said switching back to his career. "Getting back to your new novel, there's been some question over the deal you made with your publisher. You've written this book essentially for free with the caveat that you get fifty percent of gross sales. Why that deal?"

"I have a great relationship with Sperling Publishing. They have an unmatched team of editors and publishers. Are you asking whether there was some contention over the subject matter? The answer is yes. But Peter Sperling is a good friend and good businessman. He agreed to an unconventional deal in part because he questioned the appetite for such material. We've had a good laugh seeing the presales. We're each going to make a good deal from its success."

"A good deal." She laughed. "Looking at the initial sales numbers there's a prediction that you'll clear well over fifty million dollars this year if you include earnings from your trilogy. The early sales in Australia and the UK are already set to break records."

"Like I said before, I've been blessed."

"You certainly have." She responded. "Not only with success, but with a new baby boy."

"Yes." Tom smiled. "I'm a proud father to healthy boy. I look forward to fatherhood. I intend to do better than my father did with me."

Tabitha thought she scored with that answer. It really tied his career and personal problems together in a way she found approving.

"Well, we won't take up any more of your time today, Tom. I want to thank you for allowing me and my viewers a brief look into your life. I certainly hope that you'll allow me the opportunity to come back again."

"We'll see." Tom said as he looked toward the camera and flashed his wry smile.

******

The camera operator had loaded the last of his equipment into oversized, foam lined carrying cases. He lifted the heavy case onto a Magliner hand truck and began to wheel it out through the foyer. It was just Tabitha, Tom and Kimmie left in the room. Tabitha stood up and looked around at the pictures on the surfaces.

"Did I do okay?" Tom asked.

"You were brilliant." Tabitha responded with her British accent. "I wish we could have gone more in depth, but I was given specific boundaries before I was granted the interview. I was told you're a particular person." She stopped and looked back at the young man sitting on the sofa. "Out of curiosity, why did you choose me for the interview?"

"You have excellent viewership and ratings." Tom responded kindly. "... And you're a fan of my books. Your booking agent contacted Sperling Publishing repeatedly for an interview, even before the incident last year." He paused. "How do you think people will respond to the interview?"

"Mr. Bolden, the public will believe what they want to believe. An interview won't change anything at all. But you'll get great publicity."

Tom flashed his wry smile. "And what do you believe?"

She looked at him carefully. He seemed far more confident than he did when she arrived. It gave her a suddenly uncomfortable feeling as if he was interviewing her now.

"I think you're not telling the whole truth. I think you're hiding something from the public."

"And what do you think that is?" Tom asked studying her reaction.

"I'm not sure." She said. "Maybe there is something more to the story last year. Maybe you're a randy fucker and just as naughty as everyone says."

Tabitha was successful woman that spent her career contending with powerful men. She wasn't afraid to use strong language. Tom appreciated her blunt response. She stepped over toward the mantle and noticed the silver, engraved riding crop.

She looked at the inscription. 'Sir -- Happy 31^st Birthday! Love, All The Girls.' The rest of it had names engraved on the side.

"That was my birthday present from Alexis last year." Tom replied.

She didn't say anything at first. She just read the different names engraved down its length. It occurred to her at that moment that perhaps it was all true. She figured there was some degree of half-truth in his statements, but she hadn't considered that all of the speculation was accurate.

"So all the rumors are true?" She asked finally.

Her curiosity was piqued.

"Who's asking?" Tom queried in response. "Tabitha Watkins, purveyor of gossip? Or just Tabitha Watkins?"

She stared back at him deciding on her response.

"Are we on or off the record?" He asked.

"On." She answered.

"None of its true. I don't mind rumors that I'm some sexual dynamo. What man wouldn't? But it's so unrealistic. Mostly I just find it funny."

His response was natural and he followed it up with a disarming smile. Generally, she thought she was a good judge of character and a fairly intuitive person. She couldn't get a read on him though. He was never evasive, which made most things he said sound genuine.

"Well I hope you weren't insulted when I said you were hiding something." She replied sincerely. "I love your home. I'd love to have a tour if you don't mind."

"That can be arranged." Tom said kindly. "Is the tour on or off the record?"

She furrowed her brow just slightly as if she didn't like the question, or maybe she just didn't understand it. What would it matter, she thought? Then she looked at his disarming smile.

"Off the record."

Tom's eyes lit up.

"Excellent." He stood up and poured himself a small glass of scotch offering one to his guest. "You know I've had calls from CNN, Fox News, MSNBC, Oprah, Geraldo, The Today Show and just about every other show you could think of."

He paused sipping the scotch and feeling it burn in his throat. She followed suit.