"Ugh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…" Trent groaned as he massaged his temples.
"It'll be okay, honey," Bea said, but he could tell she was worried.
Shit. Okay. He was just going to have to suck it up and make this happen. He'd opted out of a full energy drink because he didn't want to be jittery, and had settled on a five hour energy shot because he needed to have something because it was goddamned eight thirty in the morning now and he'd already been up for almost two hours because he'd woken up at the crack of dawn because he couldn't fucking sleep apparently.
After getting back from their road trip, he'd spent the rest of the day writing and then helping Bea get things organized.
And now it was the next day. Today.
The big day.
Specifically, his big day.
"I'll be fine," he said.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yep. Honestly I'm just doing some bitching."
"Well, if it helps, this is like really hot," she replied.
He glanced at her. "...seriously?"
"You're doing a book signing, and there's already like fifty people waiting outside, Trent. Uh yes it's hot."
He stared at her for a moment, then chuckled. "Holy fuck did I get lucky with you."
She laughed and shook her head. "I mean yeah, you did, but any particular reason?"
"I have a super fucking hot goth girlfriend who not only supports me in my writing, but actually shows up and also gets turned on by it," he replied.
She laughed. "Okay, yeah, I guess that's like what guys are always raging about, like finding a gamer girlfriend? Which you also found that...sorta. Well, I guess you found it in Mae, and kinda Ann."
"Really stupid ultra lucky," he said.
"Yeah...and even if something goes wrong, or you choke, or fuck something up, like...you know we'll still love you, and be there for you, and we won't think less of you, right?" she asked, her tone becoming more serious.
He only hesitated for a little bit before nodding. "Yeah. I do."
"Good. Now, let's kick some ass," she said, pulling out her phone and checking it. "Got like ten minutes left now."
"Okay, let's do it."
Trent took a deep breath, resisted the urge to light up and have a few quick puffs of weed, (then remembered he hadn't even brought any), then released his breath and walked back into the Ol' Pickaxe from its rear entrance. Immediately he heard the muted hum of conversation and saw the shape of dozens of people standing beyond the big plate glass windows.
"Fuck," he whispered.
"It'll be okay," Bea said.
"Yeah."
He made himself walk towards the table to his left. Allen had actually busted serious ass to make this happen, essentially clearing the floor so there was a fair amount of room for people to wait in line. He saw several people were pointing at him and talking to each other. Great. He wouldn't exactly call himself a good public speaker or a particularly confident person.
Only…
He'd been fucking shot.
He'd faced down a literal cult and a literal eldritch god of horror.
He was navigating, successfully, three relationships.
He had fucked a cougar once.
Was this really so bad?
A weird calm seemed to come over him as he considered all this. One of the biggest problems with anxiety, he knew, was that it was a disproportional response of nervous tension to a given situation. There were a few people in the store ahead of time. Allen was there. Mae and Ann had joined him and Bea. Candy and Stan were both there, though Stan was there in a more official capacity. So was Danny, and a couple of other workers, including the guy that gave him weird vibes.
"Is everything good?" Allen asked, approaching. "I think I got everything."
"Uh…" Trent focused on studying the place. It was a pretty simple setup. He had a chair (they had tracked down a chair he could conceivably sit in for twelve hours without suffering too much), a big table that had stacks of books, a mix of Demontower and his own two books, with all the rest of them piled up in boxes behind and around the chair. He looked over as Mae walked up, planting two bottles of water and then a 20 oz. of Mountain Dew on the table.
"Hey, I thought this would help," she said. "I imagine you're gonna get thirsty. I thought hungry, too, but like that seems messy and there's all these books and you'll be using your hands...what? Why are you giving me this look?"
"I love you, that's why," Trent replied, hugging her.
She laughed and hugged him back. "You weirdo. Like most of the town is here, they're gonna see."
"Mae, I'll be honest, I'd declare my love for you from a rooftop, I don't care," he replied.
"...fucking for real?" she asked.
"Yeah. If you asked me to."
"Oh my God."
"You have no idea what you've just done," Bea muttered.
Mae laughed and Trent sighed, pulling back and looking down at her. "My point is: I'm really, really happy that you're my girlfriend and you're so thoughtful. Now, how about a kiss for good luck?" he asked.
Mae happily grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him down to give him a long kiss on the mouth. When she was done and released him, he looked at Bea. "How about you?"
She blushed, then sighed. "If my dad wasn't, like, right over there," she said finally.
"Fair enough."
She stared at him, then sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fuck it." She leaned forward and kissed him where his mouth met the rest of his face. "Good luck...why do you still get that stupid-ass smile sometimes? It's been, like, eight months with constant access to us."
"That's how great I think you are," he replied. "It's gonna keep happening for a long time."
"Whatever. Gonna open the doors so, like, get your speech ready," she replied.
"Right." He sighed. "I can do this."
"You can," Ann agreed. He turned around and saw that she was now hanging out a little out of the way behind him, watching him. "You've got this, handsome. And we'll be here."
"I know, I know. Still kind of nerve-wracking," he said, adjusting his clothes a little, then brushing at something on his sleeve. He'd opted to wear a simple pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt that he had been lucky enough to get before this madness. He'd gone back to the website where you could design your own t-shirt and had put a version of Mae's drawing of the Demontower on it, with the Pale Cat standing at its base, staring up on one. It was simple, yet stark and elegant, and it had come out extremely good.
Well, it was time to do this.
He saw Bea talking with her dad. They both looked over at him.
"We ready?" Allen asked.
"Check," Trent replied, raising a thumb as he came to stand behind the table.
"Time to let 'er rip," Allen said, and walked over to the front doors. He unlocked them and propped them both open. "Come on in!" he called.
Trent watched with a growing sense of...horror wasn't really the right word, but it was kind of adjacent, as dozens of people filed into the Pickaxe. He tried counting them and then lost track somewhere after twenty. In the end, he guessed that there were almost three dozen additional people fit into the store now, gathered in a rough crowd. He recognized some of them.
Mister Chazokov was there. The middle-aged goat they called Mister Twig had turned up. Ann's mom was there. Claire was here, too. He also saw a smattering of other vaguely familiar faces.
And they were looking back at him silently, expectantly.
Trent cleared his throat. "So, um...I've never done this before. I imagine you all want to get on with it, so I'll try not to draw it out. My name is Trent Sinclair. I moved here from Nebraska last December. Mae Borowski over there was the first person I met. Literally right off the bus. We hit it off and I pretty quickly started falling in love with her."
That, thankfully, got a few 'awws' from the crowd. He barely heard Mae whisper 'OMFG this is so embarrassing' and resisted the strong urge to chuckle. And then he tried not to think about the fact that he'd fucked her raw and filled her with a creampie while in a moving car yesterday. Or, at the very least, he tried to keep it off his face.
"A lot happened between now and then but the reason we're all here today is because I very recently discovered that Mae's parents are in danger of losing their house because of a string of bad luck and a bank all too willing to take advantage of some desperate, hardworking people. And I immediately decided that was not acceptable. Mae and myself, her parents, and several of our friends, Selma Ann Forrester and Bea and her father among them, decided we were going to stop this from happening. Obviously, it was going to cost a lot of money to save the house.
"I'm a writer. It's the main thing I know how to do and want to do. I have been extremely lucky this year and was commissioned to novelize an old series of horror video games called Demontower. Naturally, one of the ideas that came to us was to have a book-signing in the form of a fundraiser. We all appreciate everyone who showed up. Very, very much. This is...a pretty awkward situation. Asking for help is hard. Asking for help publicly? Holy crap, that's really hard," he said, and a few people chuckled, while several more muttered in agreement.
"So, to keep this simple: Demontower is twenty bucks a pop. My other two novels, which are both stand-alone stories that I wrote and self-published, are twenty five bucks a pop. We'd prefer cash, but checks also work. If all you've got is a card, talk with Mister Santello, he can help you out. Also, if you're feeling extra giving, buy something from the store. Mister Santello did this without charging us a dime, he really stepped up for us. He actually built this," Trent patted the table, "with his own two hands just for this situation. Now...any questions?"
"Is there gonna be food?" someone asked. "I thought I heard something about that…"
"Uh…" Trent looked at Bea and her dad. "Is there? Did we ever work that out?"
"Yes!" Allen replied, clearing his throat. "Mister Kaminski from Trolleyside News is going to be bringing up a big batch of peirogi and pretzels closer to noon! And I've got snacks and drinks in the coolers here, freshly stocked."
"Well, there you have it!" Trent took a seat. "All right, let's sell some books and save a good family's house from the cold clutches of the bank!"
And just that like that, he got started.
At first, it was pretty nerve-wracking. Trent kept worrying about screwing up or saying something stupid.
It was slightly weird at first because the very first person who stepped up was Ann's mom.
"Hello, Miss Forrester," he said after clearing his throat.
She smiled, a little awkwardly, but amicably enough. "Hello, Trent." She took one of the Demontower books off one of the piles and set it in front of him. "I must admit, after everything I've heard, I'm very curious. And I'm quite the fan of fantasy so…"
"It's a bit dark," he replied, grabbing his pen and opening it to the first page. "What do you want me to write?"
"Oh honestly I don't mind, anything will do, I just want it signed," she replied, "and to support Mister and Missus Borowski. They're good people."
"They are very good people," he agreed. Trent hesitated just for a moment, then wrote, I hope you enjoy this, Marjorie. -Trent Sinclair. It was generic but he wasn't particularly good at coming up with stuff on the spot.
She looked at it and smiled. "Thank you," she said, setting down a twenty. "I must admit, I've never known a successful author before. And...despite how I might generally feel about it, I am glad that you are Ann's...roommate. I imagine you'll take good care of her."
"I can at least promise that. I will do my absolute best to make sure she is happy and safe in our home," he replied.
Her smile became a bit more comfortable. "As her mother, that is very good to hear. Good luck with everything, and...we should have dinner sometime, you and me and Ann."
"We should," he agreed.
She nodded and then made room for the next person in line.
After the next ten or so people, it got easier. He exchanged pleasantries, signed books, and accepted money, then repeated. And on and on it went. Trent had to admit that he'd always wondered how he would fare at something like this, whenever he'd hear about or see some video on a famous author doing a signing like this. Once he'd seen a time-lapsed video of Neil Gaiman signing (with some help) like a thousand novels and it just seemed insane. If anything, it still did.
But after the first half an hour or so, Trent settled into a nice rhythm. He didn't get much of a break, though, because it seemed like every time he managed to get someone signed and out of line, two more people had shown up outside. He was getting excited, though. Every single person bought a book. Some people bought two books. A few bought all three he had on offer. And sometimes they paid more than the twenty or twenty five dollars.
Eventually Bea and Mae both stepped up to help more, taking care of the money for him and replenishing the piles of books. Finally, lunchtime rolled around and the middle aged man with whom Mae had stolen from, more than once, and finally made peace with, arrived with a few others, all of them carting a lot of food. They set up just outside the front door and began selling merrily. The man himself, Mister Kaminski, brought in a stack of cardboard takeout boxes and set it on a free space on the table.
"For the guests of honor," he said. "Congratulations on your successful business, from one businessman to another."
"Thank you, Mister Kaminski," Trent replied. "Seriously, I really, really appreciate it."
He chuckled. "Oh yes, I know all about the long hours and the hard work and the appetite. I'm just glad you all like peirogi as much as you do." He looked at Mae, who was awkwardly hanging back. "It seems you have come a long way, Miss Borowski."
"Uh...yeah," Mae murmured.
"I'm glad. You're shaping up to be a responsible young woman."
"Um...thanks. I can like...give you some money for these," she murmured uncomfortably.
"No, no. On the house. You all are doing very good work for the town of Possum Springs, and I know I'm not the only business owner and resident who is very grateful for all the people you've brought in. I've had more customers today than I have in the past month already! And it is barely even noon! I am going to get cleared out. Anyway, eat, enjoy, I must attend to my own work."
"Thank you again, Mister Kaminski," Bea said.
He nodded and left.
"I have got to take a piss," Trent said, getting up. "Um, then I'll eat."
"Come back to the storeroom, babe," Bea replied, "we'll get it set up in there and we can have some peace and quiet."
"Thank you so much."
He hurried off to the bathroom and took a very long piss, then washed his hands and headed back out. God, there were even more people here now. The street beyond seemed to be absolutely lined with cars. He sighed softly and then hurried off into the storeroom, where he found Mae, Ann, Bea, and Claire all hanging around, chatting and eating.
"Hey, there he is," Ann said, grinning at him. "The man of the hour."
"This is fucking insane," he muttered, grabbing one of the boxes and a twenty ounce of Mountain Dew that one of them had grabbed for him and sitting down on the table between Bea and Mae. He dug in.
"Yeah, I gotta admit, this is like a lot more people than I thought would turn out," Claire said. "Um, not that I thought no one would, just...like, man. This is starting to rival Harfest. It's super impressive."
"Someone's getting turned on," Ann murmured.
"Shut up!" Claire hissed.
"I'm sure Trent could pencil you in a conjugal," Bea said.
"Oh my fucking God shut up!" she growled. "Anyone could hear us!"
"Mmm...she's a got a point," Trent admitted.
"All right, fine," Bea replied.
"Mae has definitely changed you," Trent said.
"Ha ha yes I have! I am the all-corrupting saint!" Mae cried.
"Uh...I think you're crossing some wires there," Ann replied.
"I gotta know, where are we at right now? I've utterly lost track," Trent asked.
"Dude. Like. We've made like four grand so far," Bea replied quietly.
"...are you fucking serious?"
"Yes. And there's, like, a lot more to go. It's almost one now. We aren't even half finished. And I bet more people are going to show up later rather than earlier," Bea replied.
"So...you're saying we haven't even seen, what, half of the people who are going to come?" Trent asked.
"Probably not. I mean it's Sunday and people go to church in most of the other towns, here, too. They'll be letting out Sunday mass kinda soon. So if people are gonna come, they'll be coming probably closer to three or four," Ann replied.
"Good call on the nine to nine thing," Mae murmured. "Although jeez dude, that's gonna be a goddamned marathon."
"Oh yeah."
"How are you holding up?" Claire asked.
"I'm tired, but less worried. Feeling pretty decent, all things considered. Especially now that I'm getting some food in me and a real break."
"You're doing really great," Bea said. "And my dad is, like, so stoked. He's selling a ton of stuff."
"That's good. I was hoping for that," Trent replied.
They fell into silence, eating their lunch, and all too quickly it was gone. Trent considered going and getting more food, but decided he should probably keep from filling up any further, given he wasn't going to be able to take many breaks.
"Hey," Bea said quietly.
He looked over at her. She was looking at him in a certain way. "Uh...yeah?"
"You're doing, like, an amazing job," she said, then she leaned in, "and when we get home, I will so fucking fuck your brains out. I can totally ride your cock with my ass."
"Whoa, what'd you say to him!?" Mae asked, grinning. "His face like lit up!"
Ann was chuckling. "Yeah, she's right."
"I just promised him a reward when we get home," Bea murmured demurely, sitting back with a sly smirk.
"And on that note, I love you all and I need to get back to work," Trent said, getting to his feet.
"Even me?" Claire asked.
"I love you as a friend that I fu…" He glanced at the open doorway that led back out into the rest of the store. "That I have a lot of fun with."
She laughed. "I friend-love you, too," she replied.
While they still had the privacy, he shared a very quick kiss with all four of them and then got back to work.
The day became long, and then it became even longer than that. The hours wore on. He signed dozens of books, and then hundreds. He tried, very hard, to keep upbeat, because it wasn't like the four hundredth person who arrived was at fault for being the four hundredth person. To them, they'd driven and/or waited a really long time just to see him and give him money and get his book. Even if, to him, he had done the exact same thing literally hundreds of times before then, it wasn't like that was their problem. So he tried to keep it in mind each time he saw a new, or familiar, face.
A ton of people came and went, most of whom he didn't know. Some he did, though, and some Mae seemed to know pretty well. He met a middle-aged woman with glasses named Sadie who was grateful for Mae for some reason they couldn't quite get across in their short interaction. He met someone named Mister Salvi that he thought he'd seen once or twice around. He met a deer a bit older than him named Dmitry who turned out to be Claire's cousin. He met a shy lizard with a slight accent named Garret.
At various points, Germ's family made appearances, usually with their respective family units. Germ and Jacob hung out for almost an hour, mostly talking with Allen or Stan, but then chatting with others as they came in. At one point Germ even hopped behind a register and helped sell things. And, as it turned out, Bea and the others were right: there was a big influx of new people at around three in the afternoon. Bea, Ann, and Mae, and a few others, seemed to go from impressed to awed to almost worried by how many people there were coming into Possum Springs.
When five o'clock hit, Bea stood up. Trent could tell she was getting bugged, though he wasn't entirely sure by what.
"Hey, I'm gonna take a quick smoke break out front," she said. "It's kinda getting to me, how crowded it is."
"Why not out back?" he asked.
She looked uncomfortable. "My dad's out there taking a smoke break with Creek."
"Is that...a problem? Who's Creek?" he asked.
Her expression turned more sour. "I'll tell you later. But I'm good out front, it's kinda cleared up out there. And you'll be able to see me through the window."
"All right, go chill, I'm gonna break for dinner just as soon as Ann gets back with the Taco Buck," he said.
"Thank God," Mae groaned.
"I'll take over for you, Bea," Claire said, approaching.
"Thanks, Claire."
She headed off and Claire took her place. Trent went back to it. He glanced occasionally at Bea as he signed more books. He could indeed see her through the plate glass. She sat down on the sill in front of the plate glass and lit up a cigarette. Not a great sign. She still smoked, occasionally, but it was very rare nowadays, and he knew she was trying to stop. She'd definitely taken back to it in the past several days, but that made enough sense, given the stress.
He sighed another book. When he finished up, he saw someone was standing in front of Bea now. A wolf that, for a split second, he thought was Chris, but no, it was someone he didn't recognize, not quite as big as Chris, his fur a different shade of gray.
Trent felt himself tense up, but tried to relax. Bea could handle herself, not that he wanted her to have to. But…
"Hey, Trent, um...you okay?" Mae asked.
Trent began to respond, aware that there were still nearly twenty people waiting in a zigzagging line, and that he needed to keep this going.
But then he saw the wolf's expression change as he put a hand up against the plate glass, uncomfortable close to Bea's head. Her body language, viewed even from the back, had turned hostile. She began to move away.
The wolf grabbed her wrist.
The rest of the Pickaxe seemed to slip away. Trent shot to his feet so fast the chair knocked over behind him.
"Mae, go get Bea's dad right now! Make a hole people!" he yelled, vaulting over the table and knocking over a few stacks of books. Bea was trying to pull her arm away from the wolf but he had a firm hold on her.
Claire was asking him something and he thankfully only heard an assent from Mae (he didn't need both of them going nuclear). People were confused about the situation, but they at least understood his request. They made a hole, quickly clearing space between him and the door.
"Sorry!" he snapped as he rushed for the door. He skid to a halt as he twisted to his right, seeing that Bea was getting really fucking pissed now.
"I said let go!" she snarled.
"Listen, you fucking goth bitch-"
"HEY!" Trent screamed in a voice he didn't recognize as he bolted forward.
The wolf was startled enough that he let go of Bea. She stepped back up against the plate glass, looking angry and frightened. The wolf was turning to face him. Trent acted almost without realizing it, one hand grabbing the guy's shirtfront, yanking him to the left, while his other hand connected solidly with his jaw.
There was a hard, flat packing sound and an explosion of pain, but suddenly he was stumbling to a halt and the guy was flat on his ass, looking dazed. That didn't last though. A look of enraged fury crossed his face and he began standing.
"You're fucking dead, you little fucking-"
"Get the fuck out of here or I will straight up fucking rip your jugular out with my teeth," Trent growled. He could feel himself trembling with barely suppressed rage.
That seemed to give the guy an actual pause. He was maybe an inch taller than Trent and it was obvious that he worked out, so probably not the best odds, but Trent had no mind for odds in that moment.
He heard movement behind him and then Allen demanding, "What the fuck is going on out here!?"
And then, like the striking of a great and powerful bell, a familiar voice called out: "Everybody freeze! Now!"
Molly walked over to them, holding her gun out.
"All right everyone just relax and let's take a moment to get this sorted out," she said, her voice calm but very strong. "Trent, sit with your back to the wall and don't move."
He knew better than to argue with her, especially with all his rage bleeding rapidly out of him. It occurred to him that he'd just straight up punched a stranger. Not that he particularly regretted it. He sat down with a quick 'yes ma'am'.
Molly turned to Bea. "Bea, I saw him grab you. Do you want to press charges?"
"Press charges?! Are you shitting me!? That motherfucker-" the wolf began.
Molly turned on him, her gun aimed not at him but not put away, either. Trent realized suddenly it wasn't a pistol, it was a tazer that looked like a pistol. Well, that seemed more like Molly.
"Stop. Talking. Now," she said, her voice sharper.
He looked like he wanted to argue, but then his eyes flicked to the tazer and he just grumbled something and crossed his arms.
"Hands stay where I can see them," she said.
He sighed heavily and put his hands back out, facing her.
"Thank you. Now, Bea?"
"It depends on what he's gonna do," she replied after a moment, glancing briefly, worriedly, at Trent, before looking back at the unnamed jerk.
"All right then. What's your name?" Molly asked, turning to the wolf.
"Mike," he grunted.
"Mike what?"
"Belter."
"I need your ID," she replied.
"Forgot it," he said.
"Then I'm going to have to search you, just to be sure, and if I find it, I'm not going to happy, Mister Belter."
"Wait," he said, then sighed, "I just remembered...I got it."
"Slowly."
He pulled out his wallet and dug into it and handed her is ID. Molly studied it for a moment, then passed it back.
"You're not from here, Mister Belter."
"No."
"Do you want to press charges?"
Mike Belter stared at Trent, glared at him really, and Trent glared back.
"No," he replied without breaking eye contact with Trent, "I don't need no charges."
"Fine. I suggest you leave and go back home."
"Oh, I'm going," he muttered, still staring at Trent.
"And I would also suggest you don't come back to Possum Springs if you aren't willing to act like a gentlemen," Molly said, her voice growing sterner.
Mike just said 'uh-huh' and walked away. Trent watched him as he did, wondering exactly what he'd just gotten himself into. Not that he regretted doing it.
"Are you all right, Bea?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she replied. "Trent, that was…"
"Stupid," Molly said.
"He had ahold of Bea, Molly, I woulda done the same damn thing," Allen said.
"Allen, believe it or not, that gives me less reassurance than you might think," Molly replied mildly.
"He's right," Bea said.
Molly sighed softly. "Okay, Trent, get up. I need to talk with you and Bea for a moment."
Trent got up and followed Molly with Bea. They went around to the alleyway beside the Pickaxe. Molly stared at the two of them for a few seconds, then sighed. "Trent, I told you I wasn't going to cut you any slack out here."
"Am I in trouble?" he asked.
"No. I need to take some witness statements, but no, you aren't in trouble. But...you can't be punching people in the face, Trent."
"He grabbed Bea," Trent said flatly, and realized that his voice sound eerily close to Mae's when he'd first had to warn her about her violent tendencies. When Chris had grabbed him. "I won't apologize for defending her."
Molly sighed softly. "Trent, believe me, I understand. Honestly...I can't even say you were wrong. I saw him. I can imagine what was going on, and he clearly thought he had a right to Bea's body." She looked at Bea. "Did you know him, at all?"
"No, I've never seen him before in my life," she replied, irritated. "And yes, he clearly did believe that. He was trying to talk me into getting in his car with him and hanging out. I was informing him I was not interested. He wasn't listening."
"About what I thought. And I understand why you did it. Given my own...experiences with men like that, I really, really get it. But...there's only so much I can do. I'm the Chief of Police, and I am...your friend, Trent, but I won't compromise my integrity. Not even for you."
"I understand," he made himself say, because he did, even if he was angry right now. "And I wouldn't ask you to do that."
"Thank you," Molly murmured, relaxing. "If it happens again," she paused, looked at Bea, then sighed softly, "when it happens again, try to avoid using your hands. But if you have to...shove him or maybe give him a hard shoulder check. It'll go down smoother, legally speaking, than a solid punch to the face." She paused, then shared a conspiratorial smile after glancing around. "That was a very nice punch, though."
He chuckled softly. "Uh...thanks. And message heard, loud and clear."
"All right...also, Trent," now she looked annoyed, "you didn't think to give me, the Chief of Police, a heads up on the fact that you were inviting a thousand people to my town?"
"I didn't know!" he replied. "I had no idea it was going to be this effective!"
"Also, it's probably less than half that in reality," Bea murmured.
"Oh whatever, my point remains. This is a major safety hazard. We have to block off whole sections of the town for anything this big, like Harfest, and we know that's coming months in advance! I had no warning!"
"I'm sorry, but...isn't it helping the town?" he asked. "And also your family?"
She sighed heavily. "Yes and yes. So...carry on. Next time just warn me."
"I will. I'm sorry. Um...do you know about the concert tomorrow? Or the movie premier at the theater the day after that?"
Molly frowned, then sighed heavily once more. "No…"
"Oops."
"Let me just get you a flyer, Molly, it's got all the info," Bea said.
"...yes, fine. You do that while I get my witness statements for the record."
"Okay. Um...thank you, Molly. I know you're being really reasonable and I know this kinda put you in a weird position and I'm sorry," Trent said. Molly stared at him without saying anything for a moment. "...what?"
She sighed softly. "I'm just...lamenting the knowledge that I will never get you in a uniform, but you would actually be a really, really good cop. You're welcome, Trent, and I appreciate it. I've got to get to work now. Good luck."
She left them in the alleyway. Trent sighed heavily and leaned against the wall. "Fuck. I've got to get back in there."
"I think you can take a minute," Bea murmured.
"Yeah...what if that asshole comes back?" he asked.
"I mean it looks like you can handle him fine."
"That was a lucky shot and he might come back with a knife or a gun or more asshole friends…"
"Yeah. Well...just don't go anywhere alone for a little while. We'll keep an eye out for him," Bea said. "And...thank you." She hugged him and he held her tightly. "I hate how much I'm all fucking 'damsel in distress'."
"You could've taken him," Trent replied.
"If I could get to my switchblade or my mace maybe," she muttered. "I hate that this keeps happening. Not just to me but to us. And right out in public, too. Right in front of the fucking Pickaxe."
"It's bullshit and I'm sorry you gotta put up with it," he said. They both looked over as they sensed someone waiting at the end of the alley. Mae and Ann were both hovering awkwardly near the entryway.
"Are you both okay?" Ann asked.
"Yeah, I owe someone a fucking beatdown," Mae growled.
"We're okay," Bea said, then paused. "Right? Are you okay, honey?"
"I'll be fine," he said.
"What the fuck actually happened? Because I missed everything. Just got here with the Taco Buck," Ann said.
"Asshole was hitting on me, he grabbed me when I said no, Trent came out and socked that motherfucker right in the jaw. Luckily Molly was there. Asshole left," Bea replied.
"Wow. You actually punched him?" Ann asked.
"Yeah, I saw it! It was amazing!" Mae said.
"I really need to get back in there," Trent said, "we can't let this derail the rest of the day."
"Okay, but you need a break," Bea said.
"She's right," Ann agreed.
He nodded. "I know, I know. Lemme just talk to the people, maybe sign one or two books real quick, and you guys can set everything up in the storeroom."
"We can do that," Ann said.
"Thank you."
Trent took a moment to collect himself, then went back inside.
Wow.
So, it's officially been two years to the day since I posted the first chapter of this story. This time last year, I had made it to 95 chapters. I definitely have slowed down in the second year, but now I've managed to surpass half a MILLION words written, so...that really feels insane.
I'm not too sure what to say this time around. I still got a ton more to write, I hope those of you who are still reading the story are still enjoying it. Oh yeah! I managed to get my hands on one of the Limited Run Games physical editions of Night in the Woods, so that was cool. I've got Mae's journal now IRL, so that's also cool. As for the future, I feel like it's kind of become more uncertain, but in a good way? I had a really rough idea of where I was going to end it, and the thing is, I still know where I'm going to end it, but how much stuff will happen between now and the ending? That's what's changed. More ideas have come to me, and I also find myself wanting to see certain things.
Trent got off the bus in Possum Springs on December 9th, 2017. At this moment in the story, it's May 27th, 2018. We're creeping up on the six month mark. Honestly, that's not that much time. I know for a FACT I want to see what Halloween and Harfest look like in this new timeline where everyone is a lot happier and healthier. I also have a pretty good idea of how the next two or so weeks are going to play out. It's going to be, um...very intense.
Anyway, I think that's about it. With regards to other fan fictions, This War of Ours is not dead, even though I did take it down. I still really like the idea, and I want to come back to it at some point, when I'm less busy, which is tough, because my life is still very busy.
Anyway, thank you readers! Thank you reviewers! Here's to another year and a lot more good, cozy Night in the Woods slice-of-life vibes!
-Trash Mammal