Special Excerpt from PICTURE MR. PERFECT

 

"So what should we choose, now that we've finished Anna Karenina?" Jess asked.

A show of hands followed this question, but the quickest one of all belonged to Jeanette. "I think A Gentleman's Word would be perfect," she said. "I know it's a little like a guilty pleasure, compared to our usual tastes —" there was a ripple of laugher in response to this, "—but we're all reading it anyway, and I think we can all agree that DiMarco's writing rises above the definition of 'B-grade' romance, can't we?"

"Sure," said Ellen. "I see shades of Pride and Prejudice in this book."

"Besides, it would be nice to read something light, for a change," said Helva. "I don't know about anybody else, but I need a break after six hundred pages of Russian literature."

Most of the book club murmured its agreement. "Usually, I'd be against it, on behalf of the three masculine voices in this group," said Kevin, jokingly, "but I'm with Jeanette and Helva on this one. I think it's a good contemporary selection. And there's definitely some literary relevance to DiMarco's historical fiction. I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I've sat through worse chick flicks than this book would make."

"Show of hands, everyone in favor of A Gentleman's Word?" said Jeanette. All of the group, including the male members, raised their hands in response — everyone except for the young woman at the opposite end of the coffee house circle. A heavy blond mane of curls framed her face, her pink t-shirt sporting a faded Walk-a-thon's information.

"Everyone not in favor, raise your hand." Jeanette waited. Emily merely sat there, smoothing out the crease in the battered cover of her Anna Karenina paperback.

"Emily? Your vote?" said Jeanette.

"I'm abstaining from this one," Emily answered, with a polite smile.

"So you don't want to read A Gentleman's Word?" said Helva. "How can you not? Everyone's reading it, Emily."

"I've read it twice," contributed Andi. "And I'm still willing to read it again."

"What were you going to suggest we read next?" Kevin asked. "Did you have a book in mind?"

"I liked Ellen's suggestion from last time. The Ferber novel. We almost picked it instead of Tolstoy." She could hear the grumbles from two or three members in response to this, noticing Jeanette's brief eye roll.

"Well, I'm fine with A Gentleman's Word," said Ellen.

"So, one more time, all in favor of A Gentleman's Word —" said Jeanette, taking in the number of hands in the air, "— and all in favor of So Big." Reluctantly, Emily raised her hand for this part, seeing Jeanette's satisfied smile in response.

"That's decided," said Jeanette. "Next Thursday, my place at six, everybody bring your copies of A Gentleman's Word — oh, and Ellen, you'll bring cupcakes, right?" Ellen's face fell slightly when she heard these words. Jeanette was always making martyr-like statements about how her busy schedule kept her from bringing any appetizers or desserts to their meetings.

Everyone gathered their things to leave. Emily slid her copy of Anna Karenina into her bag and shouldered it on her way to the door. Before she reached the coffee shop's exit, Jeannette caught up with her.

"Listen, Emily," she said, keeping her voice low. "I think it's time for you to drop this act, all right?"

"What act?" asked Emily.

"You wear this 'dead poet's society' literature like a Girl Scout's badge. 'Oh, I'm such a snob, I won't read modern trash.' Everyone knows you're only doing it because you think you'll somehow convince us you're ... well ... intellectual. It's so obvious that it's not convincing."

"This book club is supposed to read the classics," Emily retorted. "That's why I joined. It's not because I don't like modern literature, all right?"

"Fine. Whatever you say. But you really should know there's no shame in admitting that you're reading Fifty Shades of Grey during your little breaks at the restaurant. That's how the rest of us feel, even if we do have careers and degrees." Jeanette's smile was patronizing at she turned to go. The coffee shop door swung closed behind her.

"I noticed you didn't suggest Fifty Shades for this month's read," Emily muttered. But this last retort was lost on Jeanette, who was out of ear shot.

It wasn't that A Gentleman's Word was probably such a terrible choice in Emily's opinion — it was Jeanette's smug attitude that made her resent this selection. Jeanette, the perfectionist medical intern who viewed herself as the self-appointed president of the book club, and who never missed an opportunity for making Emily feel like a blue-collar outsider who had stumbled into a private club for white-collar professionals.

She had been hoping for So Big, since she had found a copy at a secondhand shop for fifty cents last week. Now she had to fork over fifteen bucks or skip the next months' meetings, and give Jeanette the satisfaction of seeing her absent.

In the bookstore, she pulled a copy of A Gentleman's Word from the shelf, casting a brief glance at the hero on the cover. She sighed. Fifteen bucks was a lot of money from her meager stash of tips — and she still hadn't scraped up the funds to buy that book for her psychology class, either.

I'll bet nobody believes Jeanette actually reads the classics for enjoyment, she thought. She probably skimmed through Anna Karenina, then watched the DVD version. Helva had let that trick of Jeanette's slip after drinking a glass of wine during their Pride and Prejudice read, and the self-appointed president's eyes had shot daggers in her direction in response.

Emily laid the book on the counter at the checkout. The clerk scanned its bar code.

"Ooh, I love this one," said the clerk. "It's so romantic. Doesn't it just make you want to fall in love with a guy like that?"

"I haven't read it yet," admitted Emily. "I guess I'll find out in a couple of weeks."

"Have you heard they're making it into a movie?"

"No," said Emily. "That's news to me." She slid the book into her bag, next to the Tolstoy paperback.

Today she had a double shift at Slice of Pie, since all her midterms were scheduled for the morning. She stopped at her apartment to drop off her book bag, unlocking the door decorated with a Superman poster on the outside. Inside, she grabbed her jacket from the bedpost, and her Sociology text book to study on break.

Emily lived alone. No roommate, not since her friend Carly had landed a job as a flight attendant and moved out. Scraping for rent was harder now, but Emily didn't qualify for campus housing, since she was only a part-time student. She was inching her way towards her degree, something she had been doing ever since she had been forced to quit for awhile. Now, at twenty-seven, she seemed a little old to still be trying, compared to most of the undergraduate students at Hilldale. Getting back on her feet and back into the academic world was still a work in progress for her.

She pulled both books from her bag and shoved them onto the shelves next to a rambling assembly of paperback classics, secondhand textbooks, and a few children's books that were her favorites. Panda Cake, Molly and the Tool Shed, Are You My Mother? tucked next to Jane Eyre and The Remains of the Day. Her newest favorite book Sunnyside was shelved next to past titleholder A Girl of the Limberlost, a book which, at thirteen, Emily had believed would always be her favorite, no matter what else she read. That was before things changed, grown-up Emily moving away from melodramatic fantasies, needing something different from those stories.

She snapped off the lamp, leaving only the green plastic glow-in-the-dark alien on her desk to light the room, casting a green halo around the publisher's mark on the spine of A Gentleman's Word.

She could skip reading it, and skip the club's meetings. But that would mean giving up the only social event in her schedule. How bad could it be, even if Jeanette was a fan?

Jeanette was already gushing over the selection on the book club's Twitter page when Emily checked it on one of the campus library’s computers. So looking forward to this Thursday's meeting — I have so many insights about this book already. Members, click the hashtag links below to read the #Dimarcoauthor'sinterview with WRITTEN OUT LOUD and the #gentlemanswordquestions list we'll be discussing at the first meeting.

Emily opened the question list. Name three reasons why Margaret is one of the twenty-first century's best heroines OR why you disagree with this statement. Is Lord Damon a more dynamic hero than Jane Austen's Mr. Darcy? Explain why you think so, or why you disagree. Why do elements of modern sensuality make this historical novel more compelling than traditional titles?

Making a face, Emily closed the list. This wasn't the type of gushing questionnaire the book club usually relied on — where did Jeanette get these?

When it came to the book itself, Emily didn't have time to read it in-depth, not with three midterms this week, and an overdue book to read for Psychology. Flipping through it, she found herself less enchanted than the rest of the book club. The same old romantic clichés. The same language as Austen's books, only spun with a heavy hint of sensuality. If hearts could bleed love across a page; if blood could tell of love and loss without writing words in the fashion of ink, perhaps tales of unbroken passion and of unrequited vows would be more easily told.... for a moment, Emily wondered if some long-lost pages from The Phantom of the Opera had somehow been pasted into this novel.

And no matter what anybody said, Lord Damon was definitely no Mr. Darcy. He was too perfect, always with the right answers or romantic lines. Shouldn't Margaret's secret worry him, even if just for a second? Didn't he ever get a little tongue-tied over her 'awe-inspiring beauty' as he put it, instead of delivering a sensitive, touching speech every time they were together?

She thought about it as she wiped down tables at Slice of Pie. Maybe she was being unfair, she reflected. Lord Damon was just a character in a book, just doing what the author made him do. Plenty of people loved escaping into worlds with dashing heroes who never had a moment's doubt.

So what if Jeanette and her friends were probably the book's most ardent fans — that was no reason to hold it against roguish, oh-so perfect Lord Damon and his true love, right?

Emily's mind was refereeing the conflict between these thoughts as she piled empty plates on her tray. Her glance flickered to the next table waiting to be bused, and the student seated one down from it. He looked vaguely familiar, like someone who came into the restaurant a lot. Yes, she'd definitely seen him somewhere before. He was cute, she thought, in a boy-next-door sort of way.

He noticed her watching him now, then glanced away. Shy, she thought. She'd met plenty of guys who were too tongue-tied in front of actual girls, no matter what favors fortune or nature had given them.

This was exactly the sort of thing that A Gentleman's Word was missing, she thought. Heroes who didn't know the right thing to say every time they spoke, or who didn't have all the pieces perfectly in place.

As she set her tray down on the next table, the student looked at her. This time, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Yes, that's me," he said. "You're absolutely right."

"Right about what?" For a moment, she thought he'd read her mind — but that was impossible, so she had no idea what he was talking about.

"If you thought you recognized me, you do," he continued. "That's me on the book cover. I thought I would just admit that before I say anything else."

It took her a moment to make the connection. Yes she had seen him before, but not just as a customer, but as the commanding figure gazing up at her from a softcover novel — none other than the hero of A Gentleman's Word. "You are that guy," she said after a moment. This was unbelievable. She must be imagining this. She had been working too many hours lately.

"So if you wanted to meet Lord Damon, here he is," he continued. "In the flesh." He flashed her a smile which reminded her of the cover's brooding hero — unflatteringly so.

What a ham. Here, she had been feeling sorry for him — a shy guy sitting alone in this place — and the whole time he had been waiting to dangle that piece of information like ... well, like bait.

"You are unbelievable," she said, coldly.

"I'm sorry?" he repeated.

"Look at you. Get a load of you — Lord Damon of the manor," she said. "You really have no shame, do you? Using it to meet women like this?"

"I thought — I thought you were flirting with me a moment ago." He seemed startled by her reaction. "The way you looked at me — I thought you recognized me from the cover and wanted to meet 'Lord Damon' —"

"You know what? Never mind. Don't ever try that with me again, okay?" With a scowl, she picked up her tray and marched off.

 

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