Jess

Well the hits just keep on coming.

First she's gob smacked by a bombshell of a secret, next she can't get any answers out of Nick, who's turned into a twitchy sweaty mess, then Pepperwood is awarded an Edgar it hasn't received in 5 years; and last but not at all least, Mr. Nick Miller gets an eyeful of her in all her glory. Things are stellar and 100% not awkward.

She sighs as she traces her fingers along the glass casing to the exhibited photographs, texts and other objects in the gallery. Walking along, careful to keep the clack of her heals muted she thinks on the tiny piece of information Nick did reveal on the plane.

"It's not what you think, Jess."

Well what the heck does that mean? And, come to think of it, what does she think? Maybe Nick and Tran write it together? Maybe Tran writes it all and uses Nick for ideas? Well then whose idea was it to put a character with her namesake and physical attributes in? So, what, Tran meets people, listens to a few details about their personal life and then steals it all for story ideas?

Brushing her bangs to the side, she thinks on the few times she had visited Tran's home and throughout the day (when Nick was out of ear shot) had unwittingly revealed all kinds of details from her personal life: her dads overbearing nature and general melancholy, her mom's inability to see her as an adult, her sister's general failure at everything, and worst of all her dismal love life and failed relationships.

What if she gets a glimpse of the next manuscript and it's all in there along with a mystery and the undead!? Horrors upon horrors.

Rattled out of her scrambled thoughts by the vibrating phone in her clutch, she pauses to read the text from Nick.

On corner W 42nd & AveAmerica. Let's go.

Staring at her wide-eyed reflection in the plexi-glass, she takes a deep breath. "You can handle this. You're a tiger. Be the tiger. He saw you naked. Not a big deal. Let's do this, Jessica Day." Giving her reflected self a high five on the glass she turns towards the exit, giving a sheepish smile to the couple openly staring at her as she passes.

It's unseasonably warm for May in New York City. Jess appreciates the heat from the late-afternoon sun caressing her arms as she makes her way along the weaving path to where Nick is waiting.

As much as she's dreading this moment she can't help the smile that lifts her lips as she catches sight of him on the sidewalk. He's shifting on his feet, one hand pulling at his tie, the other yanking the back of his pants, dislodging the white dress shirt tucked there. She laughs as he does a little salute to two old ladies passing him on the sidewalk before he refocuses his efforts on tucking his shirt back in his pants.

Task completed he turns to face the park; his eyes immediately land on her and all his fidgeting ceases.

Her heart jumps to her throat and she lifts her arm in a little wave. She's too far away to make out his expression but she can see his eyelids dipping as he takes all of her in and it makes her pulse race.

When she reaches him she runs her hand up her arm as if chilled and can feel the rise of goose bumps on her skin when she finally meets his dark eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey," he echoes and clears his throat. "Whoa, you look great."

"Thanks, you do too." His tie is a little askew and her fingers twitch to reach up and adjust it but she resists.

They stand, facing each other, the sounds of the hectic city surrounding them. When they finally speak again, it's at the same time.

"I'm sorry about earlier-"

"Well I guess we should-"

Jess laughs self-consciously and Nick toes a crack in the sidewalk, a small smile on his face. He rubs the back of his neck before he sighs dramatically and extends his elbow to her.

"Can I escort you to the awards, my lady?"

She snorts but smiles and slips her hand through his crooked arm, relieved that this wasn't as cripplingly awkward as she had feared.

"You may, fancy gentleman-shower peeper."

"Aw come on! I said I was sorry! Half-asleep Nick cannot be held responsible for his actions. He's a totally different guy!"

She laughs as they make their way towards the Hyatt, him spouting out the differences between Awake Nick and Sleeping Nick the whole way; she knows her 'Nick Miller' smile is firmly in place the entire time.


After applying their name-tags, they head straight for the open bar; Nick hands her a Rosé, he goes with a whiskey on ice. They've only got about fifteen minutes before the ceremony starts so there's not a lot of time to socialize but Jess does her best, meeting three up and coming authors and two high profile editors before the lights flicker for everyone to take their seats.

The Empire ballroom is magnificent with the stage set-up in the middle of the room along the back wall and the thirty-plus, ten-seat round tables spread out parallel to it. Images of the greatest mystery writers appear periodically from a projector around the room in a deep scarlet light. The tables are draped in black linen with huge centerpieces consisting of a variety of flowers in different shades of red. The aura of Poe and his work "The Masque of the Red Death," fills the air with the seventh room the clear inspiration for this year's ceremony.

Jess finds Nick already sitting at their designated table in deep discussion with a fellow guest on the merits of turtles.

"Come on, they're spectacular creatures…"

"We're going to have to agree to disagree, Mr. Miller."

"You don't get it." He leans back against his chair. Jess takes the open seat next to him, back facing the stage (she'll have to turn in her seat for the ceremony, unfortunately) and smiles as she looks over the program cover. It's an image of Edgar Allan Poe with a dialogue bubble saying, "I'm just a Poe boy, nobody loves me," and then a raven perched on his shoulder responds with, "He's just a Poe boy from a Poe family." She clicks open her purse to slip the program inside and pulls out a crisp white envelope.

"Here's the speech from Tran," she hands it to Nick.

"I'm surprised you resisted the urge to open this," he teases, waving the envelope around.

"Ha ha." She says sarcastically and watches his face closely as he tears it open and begins to read, brow furrowing deeper as he skims the page quickly.

In the e-mail from Tran, it said Nick was to be the one to read the speech and she was not to give in to the temptation of reading it before the ceremony. He wanted Jess to appreciate the words in the moment, which she found both curious and sweet. Now, looking at Nick's pale face, she wonders if that had been wise.

"Everything ok?"

Nick crumples the paper in his hands and reaches for his glass of whiskey, downing it in two large gulps.

"Nick!" She exclaims. "What are you doing!?"

"Nothing, I'm just….um, loosening the paper up so it doesn't make those loud crinkling noises in the mic." He smooth's out the paper before crumpling it again. "See? Less noisy."

"That doesn't make any sense. It's going to be harder to read!"

"Don't worry about it, Jess! I'm the reader of the speeches. Me. Let the reader read how he wants to read!"

Jess's jaw drops in complete bafflement but before she can argue further the lights dim and applause fills the room. Nick is staring at her, pale and wild-eyed.

It takes an incredible amount of self-control for her to keep her mouth shut and let Nick do what he needs to do. This whole event is basically his nightmare, so the only thing she can do now is find a shred of empathy for his insane coping methods.

"Ok, Nick," she nods her head. "Do what you gotta do."

His eyebrows scrunch in surprise at her acquiescence before he nods, turning to face the stage as the ceremony begins.


35 minutes, 5 'Clue' jokes, 6 references to writers and their alcohol dependency, and 3 'Raven' quips later, Tran's award presentation begins.

Jess, finding the whole ceremony an incredible moment, taking in every detail eagerly, failed to notice Nick's slumped posture and the number of empty tumblers on the table until it was too late.

"Nick!" She whispers urgently as the presenter goes into a brief bio on Tran; putting her hand on his shoulder, she tries to turn him towards her, "Are you gonna to be able to do this?"

He shifts his shoulder, brushing off her hand but says nothing. Panic begins to bubble up within her but before she can think what to do, the noise of the crowd distracts her and she realizes the people at the tables surrounding her are facing them with smiles and clapping hands.

She squeaks in surprise as Nick suddenly rises, Tran's letter gripped tightly in his hand, and heads for the stage. Momentarily stunned, she recovers quickly and gets up to follow after him. He bumps into a few chairs on the way up and she holds her breath when he reaches the steps to the stage but he makes it up without issue.

Relief surges through her when he finally reaches the podium, the sound of crinkling paper echoes over the PA system as he smooth's out Tran's letter. Less noisy my butt, Miller.

He doesn't meet her eyes when he turns to hand her the statue of Edgar Allan Poe's head. Standing to his right and slightly behind him, clasping the award, she glances down and smiles as she sees, "Pepperwood and the Hollow Corpse," and below that, "Tran," inscribed on the plaque.

"I'm Nick Miller, this is Jessica Day and we're the lucky ones Tran asked to accept this award on his behalf."

Jess gives a small wave to the audience, blushing when it elicits a small chuckle from the crowd and realizes how silly she probably looked. Nick glances back at her and she can see the sweat along his hairline. She gives him a reassuring smile before he faces forward again.

He's got both hands up on the glass podium and refuses to look at the audience. His thumb is steadily rubbing along the side of his pointer finger, gradually picking up speed. It's a nervous habit of his, one she noticed on the plane and during the meeting with Leo.

He seems unable to continue, just staring at the words Tran prepared on the crumpled letter in front of him. Dread and concern bubble up within her and she takes a few tentative steps toward him. He's got his eyes closed now and his shoulders lift defensively; thumb furiously worrying along his pointer finger. Keeping her eyes locked on his face, she gently lays her hand in his and he immediately stills, a small gasp escaping his lips.

His eyes lift and she feels a jolt in her heart when they meet hers. Numerous emotions flash in his eyes but as he grips her hand, the terror and anxiety melt away into gratitude and resignation, his thumb strokes down her fingers before he releases her hand and takes a deep breath.

"I've been working with Tran for a very long time and um, I've had the inside track on his struggle for the past few years. I can tell ya, he has missed seeing this shrunken head of Poe on his shelf. Great mustache." The crowd chuckles and Jess takes a step back to give him his moment to shine. "Allright, luckily Tran provided a…little thank you so you won't have to hear from me anymore."

He looks down at the paper once more, takes a deep breath and dives in.

"Thank you to the readers and online communities who try to solve Pepperwood's mysteries before he does. Your art and enthusiasm will forever astound me and I promise you I have seen, read, and enjoyed it all. To the fans who wanted Carol zombified, you're welcome." Laughter ripples through the crowd and Nick continues.

"To every source of mental, physical, and financial support, it means more to me than you could fathom." Nick seems to stop and think for a moment, one hand rising to wipe at the sweat along his forehead. "I know I may seem to hide on my lonely farm, the way Pepperwood clings to the seclusion of his dark office but I sense…a day is coming that will change all of that."

Jess's eyebrows scrunch in confusion at his words. What was Tran up to?

"Pepperwood's been too long in the dark. It's been pretty bleak for him and um," Nick smooth's his hand down the paper before continuing. "I feel it's finally time for him to see light again. I guess he just needs to meet a new day head on. A day to turn it around. Make him remember why the fight against the mysteries of evil and the undead must always continue. And that the negative experiences of life should not always be taken as losses but knowledge gained. In a world of the undead, you can forget about those still very much alive. And Pepperwood needs reminding. By something or someone."

Something about the words make Jess's heart pound and she bites her lip as she gazes at Nick.

"Thank you for this," he gestures to the statue Jess holds. "This is my reminder. Tells me Pepperwood's story is still important. Still matters. I'll continue to write and, uh, hopefully you'll do me the honor of continuing to read. Thank you. Thanks." Nick raises his right hand in a wave and then speed walks off the stage, hands shoved in his pant pockets. Jess follows after him at a much calmer pace.

Before she reaches the stairs a hand taps her arm. The next presenter gives her Tran's acceptance speech folded up, before turning back to the podium. Nick must have left it there in his urgency to leave the spotlight.

As she reaches their table she sees Nick shake the proffered hands from the other guests sitting with them along with several people from the surrounding tables.

"That was amazing! Tran was so right to demand I not read the speech beforehand!" She says as she grabs a champagne glass from the table and takes a healthy swig.

Nick ignores her, looking into the empty glasses on the table for another drop of whiskey. Coming up empty he lifts his head, craning his neck to find a waiter.

"And you! Your delivery was just so….earnest. Nick you were incredible!"

"Yeah," he says but doesn't look like he's listening. Cursing under his breath he stands.

"Nick! Where-"

"Bathroom," he grunts, loosening his tie as he passes her.

She rolls her eyes at him, too caught up in the exciting atmosphere of the awards to care about his horrible attitude. This was a big moment and he did so well, why he should be all erratic and grumpy is beyond her.

Smiling to herself she leans forward for the speech, wanting to read over Tran's beautiful words again.

She narrows her eyes in confusion as she unfolds the paper, flipping it over to scan the back. It's obviously the paper Nick had brought to the stage from the tale tell signs of wear and tear.

But…how did he…what…? Hot realization washes over her as she whips towards the back of the auditorium, just catching sight of the back of Nick's head as he walks out the double doors.

She grabs her clutch, hastily stuffing The Edgar in, the base of it sticking out as she makes her way to the door; Tran's letter discarded on the table next to their empty glasses.

The 'speech' Tran had written…it didn't exist.

The letter had been blank.