(Insert obligatory disclaimer here.)

I wrote up a tentative outline today, it looks like this puppy will probably run about 20-25 chapters, unless I get inspired, in which case, god only knows!

Enjoy!

Okay, the banana nut bread was fairly tasty. It made for a nice change from shredded wheat. (Floss! he reminded himself.) Now, though, his new neighbor was hanging around, reading the titles in his library, carrying her mug of tea around and sipping at it from time to time. Why the hell had he invited this Nadine-person inside? It was like inviting a vampire in, for god's sake! He'd have to find a bloodless way to get rid of her so he could get to his desk and hopefully get something productive accomplished.

Mort Rainey was at a disadvantage, and he knew it. He wasn't entirely sure she was real even now -- her accent made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up -- and the thought that he might be hallucinating again....no, ridiculous. He was being paranoid, not that he didn't have reason to be paranoid, with the whole town talking about him behind his back.

Then Nadine let out a squeal, and grabbed a volume from the shelf. "Oh my God, I can't believe you still have it!" Still have what? He stepped closer.

"Oh my God," she repeated, laughing. "I'll sign it for you, if you want."

He looked more closely at the volume in her hand. " 'Adele's Promise', by Nadine Cooper REVIEW COPY -- NOT FOR RESALE' Nadine Cooper? That Nadine Cooper? Jesus H. Christ!

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine," Mort muttered, shaking his head. This was a nightmare. (But at least, he told himself, I know I'm not hallucinating, because I'm not that much of a masochist. Even my twisted imagination wouldn't move the closest thing I've got to competition for that niche on the bestseller lists in as my next door neighbor! Would it?) His stomach knotted up, the banana bread churning. This was bad. He didn't just have a strange woman in his house, he had a strange writer in his house! Any minute now, she was going to look up at him with those squinty grey eyes and he'd hear her breathy southern voice asking him if he'd stolen her story. Or else, she was going to steal his...well, that would serve her right.

While he stood there, indecisively wondering if there was anything he could do or say to get her out of here, short of mayhem, Nadine had located the pen hanging on the string with the shopping list on the fridge. She opened the book and was inscribing it, smiling that smile that was starting to get on what was left of his nerves.

(Okay, go for her ego. So what if she doesn't think you're a nice guy. Hell, you're NOT a nice guy.)

"Look, Ms. Cooper, I've got to be honest with you, I never even read the damn book, the only reason it's still lying around is because I'm a packrat when it comes to books."

She looked puzzled. "You reviewed it. You gave it a very nice review."

He waved a hand. "Bullshit, all of it. Think of it as the literary equivalent of a mercy fuck."

Nadine Cooper was staring at him as if he'd started speaking in tongues. "You...never...read it?"

"Nope!" He grinned back at her as obnoxiously as he could and popping his jaw. "Not a word! Just doing a favor for my editor." Slowly, Nadine Cooper closed her book, setting it on the kitchen table. She returned the pen to the string, her movements precise. Mort gave her stare back for a long moment, squashing down panic. She wasn't going to denounce him, he hadn't stolen anything from her, and if she didn't walk out that door in the next thirty seconds, he wouldn't be responsible for what happened next.

"Have a pleasant day, Mr. Rainey," she said distantly, "I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

When the screen door banged behind her, Mort sank down into the nearest chair, sensing a close call, narrowly averted.