Sunday, November 6, 2011

Chapter 36: In Which The Author Writes a Bunch of Dialogue Which May or May Not Have Any Bearing On The Novel As A Whole, But She Was On a Roll

Just then Katie’s phone in began to vibrate. “It’s Eoin,” she said.

“He says he thinks he’s in love with you.” Bobby sighed. “Heaven help him.”

“Should I answer it?”

“What have I been telling you? Live the life you want to live. And if that includes Mr Fancy Pants Artist, then answer the damn phone.”  

And Katie did. Because he maybe kind of loved her. And she maybe kind of loved him. And that was a pretty fantastic start to the rest of her life. 

* * * 

"So this is the infamous Rococo Room." Eoin, off the booze for the night, took a sip of his soda-with-lime. 

"Infamous?" Katie was nursing a Moscow mule. "Is it?" They were leaning against a railing dividing the VIP room from the riff raff. She still hadn't asked him about this "love" business. She wasn't entirely sure how to bring it up. Nor had she told him about Bobby being her ex. She wasn't sure the Rococo Room was the best environs for either chat.

"Well, sure." Eoin said. "I mean, it's all this crowd was talking about for, like, the whole walk over." His long arm swept the space, where Melissa's friends were all lounging around on crushed velvet sofas and leaning against ornately-patterned wallpaper. The place looked like a very upscale brothel. Eoin's head had nearly hit a low-hanging chandelier on their way in. 

"It is pretty fancy," conceded Katie. "I just wish the drinks weren't so expensive." 

"That's how you know you've made it," he said. "When the drinks cost more than the snacks."

"I believe they're called tapas in a place like this." Katie felt a bit giddy, and it wasn't just the vodka. Even though her conversation with Bobby had been difficult, it had been freeing, in a way. He seemed like he was doing okay. He was over by the bar, chatting with Melissa. Katie would have to ask her later what they talked about. 

"Whatever," Eoin rolled his eyes. "Do you want anything?" He proffered a Tasting Menu and they scanned the list. "Look. Nachos! Don't they seem a bit too common for this place?" 

"Ah, these are made in the Rococo Style -- see? Served with caramelized vegetables and rich dipping sauces, in an ornately sculpted bowl."

"Ooh! Are you guys getting food?" Rebecca had not slowed her booze consumption; she was carrying around a bottle of champagne and a glass. "Anyone want some? I got it for Melissa's big day. But she only wanted one glass!" She hiccuped and poured out the dregs from the bottle. "Oops! Nothing left for you two."

"That's fine. We're okay," said Eoin. 

"Listen, Katie. I need to talk with you," Rebecca whispered loudly.

"You do?"

"Yes." Rebecca wedged herself into the space between Eoin and Katie. "I've been talking with your cousin Violet about the great success she's had with your marketing campaigns --"

"You have?"

"Yes. I got the number from that mousy little assistant of yours."

"Erica gave you Violet's number?" 

"Yes. I called the office yesterday. You weren't there so Erica helped me out. I hope that's okay."

"Of course, it's fine." Erica must have given Rebecca her own cellphone number and pretended to be Violet.  Erica's work with the Improfessionals was certainly paying off.

"I must confess that I was thinking of leaving your organization and taking my business elsewhere -- though Melissa is a lovely girl, she's just not giving me what I want." Rebecca tried to pour more champagne from the bottle, obviously having forgotten that it was empty. "But before I left, I wanted to hear from Violet. She's been such a loyal client, and I know it can't just be the family connection." 

"So what did she tell you?" Katie was almost afraid to ask. 

"Oh, that you think outside the box, that you're a super leader, and really nice. That kind of thing. That when you going, you're really inspiring and have great, creative know."

"She really said all that?" Katie felt a warm glow. She really should get Erica a plant or something for her desk.

"So here's the thing. I've got a proposition for you." For a drunk person, Rebecca suddenly seemed very sober. 

"Sure. Anything." 

"I don't know if you've noticed, but there's some pretty creative graffiti around town lately. Some interesting posters, too, and the other day my assistant came across a set of postcards left in a phone booth. I think it's all the same artist -- there's always the word fantastic mixed in. It's really inspired." 

Katie grabbed Eoin's hand and squeezed hard. "You hearing this, Eoin?" 

"I sure am." He squeezed back. 

"I want that artist, whoever it is. I want that artist to design my campaign." Rebecca pointed a finger in Katie's face. "Find me that fantastic person or I walk." 

You Decide! 

Katie and Eoin tell Rebecca the truth about the mastermind behind the graffiti campaign,


Katie and Eoin pretend they have no idea what Rebecca is talking about.


  1. Option 3: they tell her they know the artist, but don't say it's Katie! Like Clark Kent/Superman styles. And Katie becomes the new Banksy.

  2. The first one! (And love the chapter title!)

  3. 1st one! No more lies. This isnt genoa city!

  4. The 1st one, or Ann's. Hmmm could Banksy really show up? That'd be frickin' awesome! (sorry, hijacking again...)

  5. I agree with Annabelle! Don't think I've ever done that before, I mean 'agree with Annabelle' I'll have to buy her a drink or something. All K has to say is: 'I can do that, no problem' But there we go trying to write the damn thing. It's all this fame you've garnered. We're all trying to hitch a ride on your increasingly luxurious coat tails. of course that doesn't mean we aren't right. No no you decide!

  6. Loving this story... I think that Katie should tell who she is & fess up as the artist