By Interview (http://www.interviewmagazine.com/) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
(Full disclosure: I totally stole this idea from Josh Lanyon.)
Enjoy!
*********
It’s a gorgeous spring evening in Southern California. Blue sky, a light breeze. My Lyft driver drops me at the gate leading to Pete Ferguson and Jamie Brodie’s front gate, and I ring the bell.
The first sound I hear is a deep “woof.” Ammo. Then I spot Pete, who studies me curiously as he approaches. I say, “Hey, I’m Meg.”
He almost hides his surprise, but isn’t entirely successful. “Hi. I’m Pete. But you know that.”
I laugh as he unlocks the door. “Yep. I’d know you anywhere.”
Jamie is on his feet, by a wrought iron table with three chairs. “Hey, Ms. Perry. I’m Jamie.”
I shake his hand. “You have to call me Meg, okay? And no ma’am-ing me, either.”
He grins. “I’ll do my best.”
Pete asks, “What would you like to drink? Coke?”
“Oh, no thanks, not this late in the day. Water’s fine.”
He cocks his head. “Beer?”
I hesitate, and Jamie says, “You’re not driving.”
“True. Okay, beer sounds great.”
Pete disappears into the house, and I take the opportunity to say hello to Ammo. “Hey, big guy. What a beautiful boy.”
Ammo wriggles with delight. Jamie says, “Did you have Labs?”
“Yup, two of them. One was named Ralphie.”
“Ohhh.”
Pete returns with a bottle of Carlsberg, and we sit. I ask Pete, “You looked surprised when you saw me. What was that about?”
“Oh.” He blushes. “You’re – um – older than I thought you’d be.”
“I’m almost as old as both of your dads. Why did you think I’d be younger?”
He shrugged, sheepishly. “Um – because we’re younger?”
I waggle my bottle of beer at him. “Isn’t that kinda ageist, Dr. Ferguson?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” Now he’s flustered.
“I’m teasing. It’s fine. My editor is younger than both of you. He keeps me from making old-lady mistakes.” I look around the front garden. “This is a terrific setting.”
Jamie says, “Yeah, thanks for this. It’s one of our favorite spots.”
I fortify myself with another drink. “You know… You live in the wrong location.”
They speak in stereo. “Huh?”
“I modeled your house after a place that I found on Trulia, back when I started researching the books, but I forgot to write down the address. I thought the model was here, but it’s actually on the other side of Wilshire.”
They’re both eyeing me with a combination of fascination and horror. Jamie says, “Which building?”
“The one with blue trim. Several buildings back from the bagel place.”
Pete is laughing now. “How’d you figure out the mistake?”
“I came here last summer, looking for your house. The building that sits here in real life is nothing like I had pictured. But I knew you were somewhere on 17th near Wilshire, so we searched until we found it.”
Jamie is grinning. “What else have you gotten wrong?”
“Your library. I thought there were two public entrances.” I shrug. “Oops. And I have no idea where the reference desk is, and I don’t think that there actually are any offices on the second floor. It’s hard to tell from the floor plans.”
“Where did you place the reference desk?”
“Sort of vaguely down the hall from the front door…”
He laughs. “I’m not gonna tell you where it is, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” I sip my Carlsberg. “So. You two must have questions for me.”
Pete asks, “What have you got against moms?”
Not the question that I was expecting. “What? Nothing. I can’t tell you why Jamie’s mom had that car accident, or why your mom was such a bitch. It’s just something that I knew, same as I knew that you both were gay. It’s almost like you told me yourselves.”
Jamie is frowning. “That’s weird.”
“Try writing fiction sometime. Weird shit happens. For example.” The beer is warming me to my subject. “Jon Eckhoff. When I first put him on paper, I had no idea he’d turn out to be a major character. I didn’t know that he and Liz would be an item until he walked up to the reference desk.”
Jamie says, “Seriously? That’s amazing.”
“Like I said. Weird shit. Don’t tell Jon. What else do you want to know?”
They exchange a glance, and Jamie crosses his arms. “What’s this we hear about you closing out the series?”
“Twenty is a nice, round number. I like round numbers. Aren’t you sick of stumbling over bodies?”
He can’t deny it. “There is that.”
“I’ll check in on you from time to time. Promise.”
Pete says, “You’re not gonna kill us off, are you?”
“Of course not. These are cozy mysteries. Main characters don’t die.”
Jamie asks, “But secondary characters might? Is that what you’re saying?”
I sigh. “I’d be violating the Prime Directive if I said more.”
Pete snorts. Jamie laughs. “Yeah, okay. Which of us librarians is modeled after you?”
“Good question! I’ve spread myself out amongst you, to some extent. You and I share opinions on almost everything. When you react to something, you’re usually speaking – or swearing – with my mouth.”
That gets another snort from Pete. Jamie asks, “Who else?”
“Sheila Meadows is basically me. West Virginia native, Florida State alumnus, close in age, and I have an MBA from the University of Central Florida, same as she does.”
“Ah.” Jamie grins. “What about Kristen?”
“I wish I was like Kristen! She’s one of my favorite characters.”
Pete says, “I hope we’re your favorites…”
“Well, of course, you two are my favorites. You’re my stars.”
Jamie asks, “What about Liz?”
“I adore Liz. One of my friends in my writing group said once, ‘Liz is Jamie’s id.’ She’s right.”
That gets both of them laughing. Pete notes my nearly empty bottle. “Another?”
“Sure, why not?”
He goes inside. I lean closer to Jamie and lower my voice. “Listen, I’m sorry about the sexual incompatibility. How’s that…going?”
He instantly sobers. “I hate this phrase, but it is what it is, right? We’ve settled into a comfortable compromise. It’s the best I can do.”
“I apologize again. You know, initially I was going to leave you with Ethan.”
His eyes widen. “What??”
“Yeah. The life you were planning with Ethan? The original idea was for you to have it. But a writing coach told me that you needed conflict in your life.” I nod at the door. “He’s your conflict.”
Jamie stares at me. “You are shitting me…”
Pete comes back through the door and hands me a second bottle, glancing back and forth at us. “You have the strangest looks on your faces. What were you talking about?”
Jamie seems at a loss for words. I say, “Conflict. The spice of life.”
Pete looks skeptical, but doesn’t pursue it. “Which of us did you create first?”
“Neither.”
That breaks Jamie out of his stunned state. “What?”
“Kevin was first.”
They both sit back, regarding me with interest. Their facial expressions are so alike that it’s funny. Pete says, “No kidding.”
“It’s true. Kevin is the character whose head I can’t quite get into, but he was the first character I had.”
Pete smiles. “Kev will enjoy knowing that.”
“What, that I can’t get into his head?”
Jamie laughs. “Yeah, that too. So, tell us about your Scottish roots. You must have them.”
I say, “Remember Blue Tartan Tours?”
Pete groans, and Jamie snickers. “Don’t tell me you’re an Elliot.”
“Guilty as charged. Also Armstrong and Williamson. All Lowlanders, as far as I know.”
“Scots-Irish?”
“My Armstrongs were, yes. My Williamsons came directly from Fife.”
“Have you been to Brodie Castle?”
“Oh, yes. You’re going back this summer.”
Pete frowns. “The fact that you know that suggests that we’re gonna have trouble there.”
I wave my bottle airily. “Don’t worry. Your vacation will be nearly hitch-free.”
“It’s that word nearly that I don’t care for.”
“Seriously, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Uh huh.”
“Seriously.” I’m feeling more buzzed than I should, and check the time. “I’d better get back to the hotel. I’m catching the ferry to Catalina in the morning.”
Jamie says, “Why don’t you let me drive you to the hotel?”
“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll summon Lyft…”
“It’s no trouble.” He stands up and gestures for me to follow him into the house.
“Well…”
Pete says, “It’s the least we can do. For, you know, creating us and all.”
He has a point.
Shortly thereafter, Jamie and I are in the CR-V, headed for Del Mar. I say, “You had an ulterior motive for offering to drive me.”
He slides a sideways glance at me. “Not ulterior. Just a side benefit.”
I mimic Pete’s dry tone. “Uh huh.”
He grins. “What’s in Catalina?”
“Meeting up with a group of friends. Several of them are huge fans of yours.”
“That’s so weird.”
“You have a faithful following. My readers love you.”
“Do you make much money off of us?”
“Nope.”
“Thanks for the inheritance, by the way.” We’re at a stoplight, and he smiles at me. He does have a gorgeous smile. “I mean, that whole thing was a mess, with Gavin and Alexandra, and Belinda…”
“I know. Do you see much of Drew Jemison?”
“Yeah, actually, we get together a couple of times a month. And we’ll be seeing a lot more of him soon.”
“Why?”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t know everything you get up to in between cases.”
“Good. Anyway, Drew is buying the townhouse next to us.”
“No kidding! The one where Ashley Bennett…”
He grimaces. “Yeah, don’t remind me. Drew knows, and he doesn’t care. The house has been empty for a while and he’s tired of renting.”
“And he can afford it.”
“Thanks to you.”
We drive in silence for a few minutes. Jamie is clearly itching to ask me something. I finally say, “Okay. Out with it.”
“Secondary characters dying.” He grips the wheel more tightly. “Pete will forget that you mentioned it.”
“Listen. Sometimes, things change as I’m writing, so I can’t always predict what’s going to happen to whom. But you have nothing to worry about.”
“How many?”
I sigh. “Right now, there are two. One expected, one not. And I am not going to tell you anything else.”
He grumbles. “Okay, fine.”
We arrive at my hotel. He parks, escorts me to the door, and waits while I unlock it and turn on the lights. I turn to him. “Thanks for the ride and the beer. I’ve totally enjoyed this evening.”
“Thank you. For everything.” There’s that brilliant smile again. “Especially my dad.”
I grin. “Best dad on the planet.”
“Damn straight.” He hugs me – he’s a wonderful hugger – then says, “Am I gonna wake up tomorrow morning and think that I dreamed all of this?”
“Entirely possible.”
He laughs. “You are a hoot, Ms. Perry. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime. Ma’am.”
I laugh too. “Maybe you will.”
He goes back to his car and drives away, waving. I wave back until he turns onto the street and is gone.
Meg Perry Books 