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I turned on my room’s television, in hopes of finding some form of sports broadcast, preferably a baseball game from the pro team that called Kansas City their home, or a local minor-league team. Unfortunately, I was unsuccessful, so I decided to try to watch some of the local programming instead. After spending some time in my room flipping around the channels for a while, finding nothing that could hold my interest for a prolonged period, I decided to venture downstairs to the hotel bar to see if any of the other attendees happened to be milling about. I figured there had to be at least one other person who showed up a day early who I could hang out with for a bit. While Amber and Karen had helped keep me company, there was no denying the fact I was missing Maggie. I wished she could have flown down with me, but I understood her circumstances at work. Plus, I didn't think she wanted to leave her pet Pomeranian, Biscuit, all alone for a weekend. Biscuit had been a loyal companion for my mate long before I first met the duo at my best friend Detective Gary Celdom's cottage a couple of Christmases ago.
I had been invited up to his alternate abode for the holiday season because he felt sorry for me, much to the chagrin of his partner in the Toronto PD and his girlfriend, Detective Jessica Amerson. I had normally gone to my relatives’ in nearby Peterborough to spend the few days around Christmas. Alas, due to my aunt falling ill a week before, she had cancelled my original plans to come up. Spending time with my roommate, Jim Marsden, wasn’t in the cards either, as he was visiting his family out in British Columbia for the holidays. Worried I’d be spending the holidays alone, my best friend invited me to his place on the shores of Rice Lake, in Ontario’s Kawartha Region, to spend the festive week with him, Jessica, and his pet husky. I felt like a third wheel around the two of them, but by happenstance, by coming up there, I was able to meet Maggie. I only wished it was under better circumstances.
When we arrived at his cottage, we stumbled upon a crime scene. Maggie had been a victim of a break & enter, one of a string of robberies in the area. Thanks to a collaborative effort on all four of our parts, with some guidance of the spirit of Gary’s ex-fiancée, Karen – whom I ended up coming face-to-face with for the first time during some uncertainty I had over Maggie – we were able to apprehend the culprit and return Christmas to many families who originally had it stolen from them.
After my bit of nostalgia, I left my hotel room, and decided to grab a drink from the bar in the hotel lobby.
~ * * * ~
I walked into the establishment and took a seat on one of the stools at the bar. Remembering how watered down American beer was in comparison to Canadian brews, I opted for something a little stronger: a shot of Canadian whiskey added to a glass of ginger ale. After taking a sip, I settled in for what I believed to be a quiet evening until a woman came in and took a seat beside me.
"Can I get a Bloody Caesar, please?" she requested, as she set her purse down on the bar.
The bartender was puzzled. "A Bloody what?!?" he asked.
I explained to him, "It's like a Bloody Mary, but you use tomato-clam cocktail instead of basic tomato juice."
"Sorry," he apologized, "we don't have any tomato-clam cocktail in stock."
The woman sighed. "Alright, I'll have a rum and cola instead."
"Coming right up," the bartender announced.
The woman turned to me. "I'm surprised you know what a Bloody Caesar was," she remarked.
"Not many Americans know of the beverage," I stated. "Only Canadians might be aware of what it contains, or even the fact it was originally created at a bar in Alberta." The bartender handed the woman beside me her drink, and I took another sip of mine. "Judging by your knowledge of the cocktail's existence, I presume you're from north of the 49th, as well?"
The woman nodded. "I don't know if you know of the town called Orillia, north of Toronto?"
"I've heard of it," I confirmed. "It's about a ninety-minute drive north of the city, on the shores of Lake Couchiching."
"I'm impressed," she commented. "Are you from central Ontario, too?"
"Southern Ontario, actually. Scarborough, to be precise." I extended my hand. "I'm Phil Bennett."
The woman shook my hand. "Yolanda Patterson, but I’m appearing under my pen name, Darlene Timmins. Are you here for the book signing event this weekend?"
"I am, and I'm guessing you are, too?"
Yolanda nodded again. "I've never seen you on the circuit before. Is this your first signing?"
"It is," I confessed. "Most of the signings I've seen advertised on social media have been for romance authors. This was the first one I've seen that's open for all genres. It just sucks that I had to travel halfway across the continent to get to it."
"Don’t be discouraged, Phil. I admit, I'm a romance writer, myself. But these events are great for exposure, and to network with other authors."
I sighed and took a third sip of my beverage. "I hope I don't end up sticking out like a sore thumb because almost everyone writes romance, and here I am, a lone mystery writer."
"You'll do fine," Yolanda assured. "It's natural to have some first-time jitters. I remember the first signing I did down in Detroit a couple years ago, I was nervous as hell. But once the readers came into the ballroom, I became calm as ever because I realized they came to see all of the authors in attendance, including me. And we’re not all romance writers here. There are some people who will be signing that write books for children."
"That's a relief. I feel like a big fish in a small pond here, but knowing I won't be the only Canadian at this signing will help alleviate those concerns."
My drinking companion smiled, and offered a toast. "To Canadian authors."
I clinked my glass with hers. "To Canadian authors."
Yolanda and I spent what ended up being a couple of hours chatting about our lives. I learned she had attended numerous signings all around the Great Lakes region of the continent. I also found out Yolanda was planning on embarking on a signing overseas next year. Needless to say, I was impressed with her global reach, but I understood as someone who was new to the signing world, I had to start small, and develop a following before I go on any cross-ocean travel for an event. While I was taking a risk in coming to Wichita for this particular event, in the future, I should attempt to look into any events closer to home, like Amber had wished I had done in the first place. Yolanda told me about an annual event in London, Ontario I should try to look into, as it was welcoming to authors of all genres; although, it did have a predominant romance author attendance. I took her advice, and said I would see if I could sign up for the event being held there next year.
~ * * * ~
After our chat, Yolanda and I agreed to retire to our respective rooms, as we were still feeling the effects of jet lag. We agreed to catch up with each other the next day for an event where some of the fellow authors were stuffing gift bags for the readers who had previously purchased VIP tickets to the event. Upon arriving back at my room, I expected to get an earful from the specters, and true to my suspicion, they did not disappoint.
"Where the hell have you been?" Karen scolded.
"I was down at the hotel bar, and I ran into one of the other authors who's appearing this weekend," I explained.
"For two hours?" Amber posed.
I told the spirits about Yolanda, how she hailed from Orillia, and her experience with other events. The two ghosts listened attentively, but still had their reservations.
"I hope you don't get too involved with this Yolanda," Karen cautioned. "While she might have given you some good advice about the signing event experience, remember you are still involved with Maggie."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh God, not this again."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Amber accused.
"Come on, ladies, Amber was like this when I started at the courier company when one of my coworkers started making eyes at me."
"That was a legit concern, Phil," Amber defended. "Lori did try to put the moves on you."
"Yes," I mentioned, "but if you recall, I snuffed that out when I got too uncomfortable with her advances towards me. Yolanda is different. She is just a fellow author who is helping a newbie out."
"Nevertheless,” Karen cautioned, “you need to be aware of those around you. This Yolanda woman might be nice at first, but the second you let your guard down, she might try to coerce you into her room, or her into yours."
I sighed in frustration. "The two of you are being paranoid. Yes, I know I'm in 'strange waters', but you have to learn to trust me from time to time."
"Alright," Amber resigned. "We'll give you the benefit of the doubt, for now. But if you're proved wrong, we reserve the right to be the first people to say, 'We told you so.'"
"Fair enough." I stripped off my shirt. "I'm going to get ready for bed. I'm still feeling the effects of the flight, so I'm going to turn in."
"Okay then," Karen said before she and Amber vanished. "We'll bug you at some point tomorrow."
I breathed a sigh of slight relief knowing my guises had decided to leave me alone for the night. As much as I appreciated Amber and Karen looking out for me, I wished they would trust my judgment once in a while. It was something that annoyed me a bit, reminding me of my life growing up when I was constantly mothered by my legal guardian. I was an adult back then and was constantly nagged at about what she believed I could and couldn't do. I would be the first to admit I've erred on occasion, but I despised having it held over my head, which was what I felt Amber and Karen were doing. However, I knew they were only doing it because they cared about me. In retrospect, I needed to not let criticism get the better of me, and knew I still had to learn to be more mature in the end.
After calming myself down, showering, and getting changed, I hopped into the room's Queen-sized bed, and soon drifted off to sleep.