“Wow, so your book is out?” Jennifer Aniston said. She took a mini sip of Pinot Grigio.

“Well, yeah, it officially came out February but the publisher released some advanced copies awhile ago,” I said.
We were at this small vegetarian joint called “The Sprout” in Alphabet City.

“An author, a real author…” Her brown eyes sparkled and she looked at me so long I started to get uncomfortable.

“Hey, I’m no Robert Ward.”

“What’s it about?” Jenn toyed with her wine glass running a slender finger along its rim.

“Oh, come on. I don’t want to bore you.” I paused and looked at her. “What about “Friends” and your movies,” I panicked slightly, not being able to remember any of the movie titles.

“Please…” She said and scrunched up her face in that adorable Jennway. “Tell me what it’s about.”

“Okay,” I sighed. Before becoming a big deal published author I dreamed of beautiful women asking me about it. Now, frankly, it had become tiresome.

“It’s called Out Cold, A Duffy Dombrowski Mystery and there’s this social worker about to get fired from his job because he never does the paper work. He’s also a bad pro boxer who lives in a trailer. He winds up trying to prevent  some domestic terrorism predicted by a crazy client. In the meantime he has to deal with his obstinate Black Muslim basset hound, Al. Then–” Jenn interrupted.

“What’s obstinate mean?””You know, disobedient.” I say.


“I also haver a Kindle book out with JA Konrath. It’s called Planter’s Punch. That’s a bestseller in the Kindle category “Police Procedurals.” I was glad my description was over. It’s so tedious going over this stuff with women again and again.

“That sounds soooo cool. Where can I get it?”

“Most bookstores, though I prefer the independents. Planter’s Punch, exclusively at Amazon Kindle”

She tosses her hair and looks away. Then she puts her hand over her mouth and sort of giggles. She shakes her head.

“What?” I say.

“Oh…I don’t know. it’s just…” She looks away again, frowns and her eyes seem just a little wet.


“It’s just that the guys I know…the guys I’m used to… they’re so…I don’t know…shallow. But you…you’re an author,” she says.

I feign a smile. I get this a lot lately.

“Will their be others?” Her playful giggle is gone and in its place is a kind of sad intense look.

“Sure, I‘m working on a stand alone that will be ready soon and then there’s another Duffy in the works where Duffy and Al go to Las Vegas. But–”

I didn’t get to finish.

“I didn’t mean other books.”

She looks down and I can sense she’s embarrassed. “I meant… oh, never mind.”

Her eyes well up again only this time I was almost sure a tear would escape.

It was awkward.

Being a big deal author often was.