Read Online The Fictional Man by Al Ewing - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Al Ewing
Tags: Science-Fiction
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been busy, okay? And – look, I don’t know if you noticed, but that was kind of a painful time for me. I mean, I couldn’t even look at those damn boxes for a year – I bought a whole new wardrobe, new furniture...”
“I thought you looked different that time...” They’d met for coffee on New Year’s Day of 2011, more than ten months after it had all fallen apart – that whole ugly business. Niles hadn’t wanted to, but Iyla had insisted they make some attempt to mend fences. Her therapist was telling her to forgive and forget – or try to, anyway.
“Yeah, I had that pixie cut. Don’t know what the hell I was thinking, I walked out of that salon thinking I’d made the mistake of my life – well, present company excepted.” She laughed, letting him know it was a ‘joke.’ He frowned. “If you’d said anything about it then I might have killed you, but fortunately you just droned on and on about this terribly original idea you were working on about some terrorists who’d actually got hold of a nuclear bomb...”
He could hear the sarcasm in her voice. “For your information, Edge Of Doomsday: A Kurt Power Novel reached number 19 on the US bestseller lists last September.”
There was a pause. “You didn’t.” Niles heard her laughter on the other end of the line. Once upon a time, making her laugh like that would have been the highlight of his day. “You did! You put it out on 9/11!”
“9/10,” Niles replied, stiffly. “The Monday. And it was an arbitrary date, nothing more.”
“I cannot believe you sometimes,” He could hear her take a drink of something to calm the fit of giggles. “Ohh, boy. Every time I think I’ve hit the limit with you, you still manage to surprise me, you know that? It’s kind of adorable now I don’t have to live with it.”
Niles pursed his lips. “Listen, Iyla, when I said I wasn’t working – well, technically speaking –”
“Sure. Sorry. I’ll get back to why I called.” She was still smiling – he could hear it in her voice. He could remember the first time he’d seen that smile – a launch party for Linda’s book, the one about the wolf-girl, or possibly the one with the family of otters. Iyla had seemed so exotic to him – was that racist, he wondered? No, of course not, it was a compliment – exotic and alive, wearing a sharply-cut skirt-suit that showed off her legs, while Linda flounced around in a grim floral sundress that came down to her ankles and seemed designed for a commune in the ’seventies. He’d spent the whole evening finding little excuses to talk to the fascinating Indian girl – Indian-American, he corrected himself, as opposed to Native American, that’s Red Indian – and avoiding Linda, who’d eventually made a noisy demand to leave. She’d been in floods of tears as he’d driven her home – he didn’t remember formally ending it then, but then he hadn’t really needed to, given the circumstances. Realistically the whole thing had ended long before, anyway, before she’d even moved to San Francisco with him. It was when she’d stopped smoking and started putting on the weight.
Of course, eventually Iyla ceased to be the exotic other and became the woman who caused fusses at perfectly innocent flirtations, but he wasn’t to know that then.
On the screen, Joi Lansing and Anouska Hempel were about to do their big dungeon scene. Kitten was at that moment being chained to the wall by two well-built black women in red and yellow spandex, while the evil Ms Harridan, leader of F.L.O.O.Z.Y., waited in the wings. Niles lip-read the words “honey-chile” from one of the henchwomen and winced. Best to get rid of that, too. “Sorry, I was distracted for a minute. You were saying about the box?”
Iyla sighed. “It’s not that big a deal. I can call back later.”
“No, tell me now.” Niles said, pausing the film. “You were unpacking a box, and...”
“And it’s one of yours. It’s got a whole bunch
“I thought you looked different that time...” They’d met for coffee on New Year’s Day of 2011, more than ten months after it had all fallen apart – that whole ugly business. Niles hadn’t wanted to, but Iyla had insisted they make some attempt to mend fences. Her therapist was telling her to forgive and forget – or try to, anyway.
“Yeah, I had that pixie cut. Don’t know what the hell I was thinking, I walked out of that salon thinking I’d made the mistake of my life – well, present company excepted.” She laughed, letting him know it was a ‘joke.’ He frowned. “If you’d said anything about it then I might have killed you, but fortunately you just droned on and on about this terribly original idea you were working on about some terrorists who’d actually got hold of a nuclear bomb...”
He could hear the sarcasm in her voice. “For your information, Edge Of Doomsday: A Kurt Power Novel reached number 19 on the US bestseller lists last September.”
There was a pause. “You didn’t.” Niles heard her laughter on the other end of the line. Once upon a time, making her laugh like that would have been the highlight of his day. “You did! You put it out on 9/11!”
“9/10,” Niles replied, stiffly. “The Monday. And it was an arbitrary date, nothing more.”
“I cannot believe you sometimes,” He could hear her take a drink of something to calm the fit of giggles. “Ohh, boy. Every time I think I’ve hit the limit with you, you still manage to surprise me, you know that? It’s kind of adorable now I don’t have to live with it.”
Niles pursed his lips. “Listen, Iyla, when I said I wasn’t working – well, technically speaking –”
“Sure. Sorry. I’ll get back to why I called.” She was still smiling – he could hear it in her voice. He could remember the first time he’d seen that smile – a launch party for Linda’s book, the one about the wolf-girl, or possibly the one with the family of otters. Iyla had seemed so exotic to him – was that racist, he wondered? No, of course not, it was a compliment – exotic and alive, wearing a sharply-cut skirt-suit that showed off her legs, while Linda flounced around in a grim floral sundress that came down to her ankles and seemed designed for a commune in the ’seventies. He’d spent the whole evening finding little excuses to talk to the fascinating Indian girl – Indian-American, he corrected himself, as opposed to Native American, that’s Red Indian – and avoiding Linda, who’d eventually made a noisy demand to leave. She’d been in floods of tears as he’d driven her home – he didn’t remember formally ending it then, but then he hadn’t really needed to, given the circumstances. Realistically the whole thing had ended long before, anyway, before she’d even moved to San Francisco with him. It was when she’d stopped smoking and started putting on the weight.
Of course, eventually Iyla ceased to be the exotic other and became the woman who caused fusses at perfectly innocent flirtations, but he wasn’t to know that then.
On the screen, Joi Lansing and Anouska Hempel were about to do their big dungeon scene. Kitten was at that moment being chained to the wall by two well-built black women in red and yellow spandex, while the evil Ms Harridan, leader of F.L.O.O.Z.Y., waited in the wings. Niles lip-read the words “honey-chile” from one of the henchwomen and winced. Best to get rid of that, too. “Sorry, I was distracted for a minute. You were saying about the box?”
Iyla sighed. “It’s not that big a deal. I can call back later.”
“No, tell me now.” Niles said, pausing the film. “You were unpacking a box, and...”
“And it’s one of yours. It’s got a whole bunch
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