They clam up, speechless.
Satisfied, I continue on, bumping right into Drew’s broad chest as I open the back door. Sturdy and tall as a skyscraper. Instead of backing away, I simply sling my arms around his torso, pressing my cheek into the blue cotton of his button-down. I inhale his clean scent and exhale a hello.
“Hello to you too,” he says, settling into the embrace. “Didn’t realize how nervous I was until you started hugging me.”
“I can tell.” His heartpuh-plunksagainst my ear before I straighten up to kiss his bearded cheek. “Is the author here yet? I want to go in and introduce myself, run some questions by him.”
“It’s actually time to get started. I’d like to introduce you, get the hoopla out of the way, and then bring out the author. The grand reveal. Is that okay?”
“Of course.” I kiss him on the lips and then tilt back to watch his face turn crimson. “I’m here for you. Whatever you want works great for me.”
As expected, my introduction applause goes on for a while. A sense of pride comes over me, knowing that this applause is for the right reasons. I’m using my celebrity for good instead of rude comedy.
I could stay here, do more of this, and use my money from the special to invest in Drew’s business. I could find purpose and fulfillment with that life, couldn’t I?
I shelve that idea for later.
The audience has leaked into standing-room-only. People are up in the loft. Others are snaked through the stacks, phones raised, eyes alert. We’re definitely breaking some safety codes, but it’s all worth it to support Drew, given how everyone in attendance is holding a copy of the book and slipping bills into the donation box.
When the crowd dies down, Drew goes on: “Here at Bound by Mayhem Bookshop we are so pleased to introduce to you for the very first time the author of the bestselling thrillerFare-Thee-Wellness.Here he is, R. U. Low.”
Except the person who steps out from the back to hoots and hollers isn’t R. U. Low.
Well, he is.
But he’s also someone else: Ryan from the receptionist desk at Doop.
My jaw drops.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“They worked,” Ryan says, awestruck, as soon as we’re in the back office again, away from the crowd.
My head spun through the entire interview as I tried to remain calm, ask questions, be personable. The difficulty was alarming and went both ways. Ryan seemed as rattled as I was. The clues were all laid out in his book—the New York City setting with West Coast vibes, the description of the office, and the fictional products that sounded familiar. I’d just chosen to take all the details as coincidence. I should’ve known that nothing when it comes to Doop is a coincidence.
Drew’s face twists with confusion. “What is he talking about?”
“As soon as we made eye contact, I knew,” Ryan says, inching his face closer to mine so he can stare deeper into my eyes. In search of something I can’t figure out. Uncomfortable, I step back but slam into a hard, metallic shelf.
Suddenly, Drew’s hand is on Ryan’s chest, pushing him back. “Whoa. Hey. What’s going on here?” I don’t have a moment to relish Drew stepping into the protector role because I’m too freaked out by this.
“When I started to write my book, I wondered. I’d see ads for your shows on my phone and consider if the crystals had something to do with it.”
Drew puts his body between Ryan and me, looking only at me. “He knows about those?”
“He gave them to me,” I clarify.
Ryan’s eyes have a mad-scientist quality to them that chills me to my bones, reminding me of the first impression I got from him when I arrived at the Doop offices before one of CeeCee’s fittings. He knew something then, and maybe he knows more now. “I can’t believe you jumped seven years. It has been seven years, hasn’t it?”
I nod. “Yes, I woke up here about six weeks ago.” Keeping track of time has been difficult considering a calendar is nothing more than a worthless, universal organizational tool, but my rehearsal schedule and the crystal hunt has kept me abreast with some structure.
“Whoa,” Ryan utters. His epiphany seems far less pressing than my personal crisis. “Seven stones, seven years. Suddenly my satire isn’t all that funny.”
“You’re seriously thinking about your book right now?” I ask. “I’m twenty-three trapped in this thirty-year-old body because of you!”
Ryan holds up his hands in surrender. “Hang on, all I did was fill the goody bags and hand them out. I didn’t make the products, nor did I force you to use them. All I did was a little snooping while I stuffed and tagged, so I knew you got the crystals.”
“So how did you know about the time travel, then?” Drew asks, arms folded across his chest in a stance that saysI demand answers.
