Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Gary smiles. “Thanks. I signed him. Albert Reiner? He’s one of mine. I got him a major deal.”
“Well done you!”
He smiles bigger. “Yeah. So. That’s why I’m here.”
I look around. “Albert Reiner’s here?”
Gary laughs. “No. You, Steve. I came to see you. I was in Vegas for another thing. That’s why I’m just getting here now. But I came to talk to you.”
I point at myself. “Moi?”
“That’s right.”
“But…” I squint. “Why?”
“You wrote a sci-fi series, right? You’re the same Steve Smith, right?”
I let out a breath and my shoulders droop a little. This convention was going so well. It’s one thing for the maids to bring up my sci-fi books. They’re friends. But a complete stranger from the publishing business? No, thank you. I do not feel like having this conversation.
Still, even though my enthusiasm for this guy’s author was real and I now feel depressed, I paint on a smile. “Yep. Alien Alliance.”
Gary nods. “Right. Is the series finished now?”
“Oh, yeah.” I laugh. “It’s over.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“Why? Everyone hated it.”
“I saw the reviews, but…” He squints his eyes at me. “You didn’t take them seriously, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re bots.”
“What?” My heart begins to palpitate wildly in my chest.
“Yeah.” Gary laughs. “It’s clearly a bot attack. I’m not sure why Nile didn’t take all those bogus reviews down, but they should’ve.”
I’m confused. “What makes you think it’s bots?”
“Did you click the profiles?”
“No. Essie ordered me not to look at them after the first hundred one-stars came in.”
“Good advice. But if you had, you’d have figured it out immediately. No profile pic, one review—your book—and one star. Classic bot behavior.”
“What the fuck?” I am seriously distressed. “Who would attack my book? No one even knew the name Steve Smith.”
Gary just shrugs. “Why do assholes do anything, ya know? They’re assholes.”
“But… the blog awards—”
Gary almost snorts. “Those are fake too, Steve.”
“What?”
He shakes his head at me. “You don’t get out much, I take it.” I’m not sure what that means, but Gary continues. “The blog awards are fixed.”
“But… I know a ton of bloggers. They’re not on the take.”
“Are they romance bloggers?”
“Yeah, of course.” I pan my hand, indicating the convention.
“I don’t keep up with the romance world. Maybe they’re legit. But it’s a cut-throat business, ya know?”
“You don’t need to tell me. We’ve been sued—I mean… yeah. Essie tells me all about it.”
“There was a huge scandal last year about a sci-fi blog called Space, Time, Cliché. Ever heard of it?”
“They’re the ones who gave me the blog award! Two years in a row!”
“Yeah, they’re dirty. You can pay them to be number one. So I would not be surprised if you could pay them to make your competition come in last.”
“Who would be competing with me?” I’m seriously confused. “I’m nobody.”
Gary laughs. “Um…” Then he looks around. “I know you’re just ‘the brother.’ But you’re not exactly nobody, Steve. Which is why I’m here.” He reaches into his inside pocket and takes out a business card, offering it to me. “I read your books. All three of them. I think there’s more to that story. And for what it’s worth, I mean, maybe they’re not five stars across the board, but when you take away all those fake one-stars, you’re definitely in four-point-two territory.”
I just blink at him, stunned.
It’s like my world twirled around on its axis and has now been flipped upside down. “I’m sorry. Did you just say two-point-four? Or four-point-two?”
He claps me on the shoulder. “I would like to represent you, Steve. Even if you don’t want to write anything else in that world, I’m sure I could sell whatever it is you’re planning.” Then he shoots me with his finger. “Call me.” And he walks away.
I just stand there for a moment, stunned.
What do I do? Pinch myself?
Was that real?
While I’m standing in the middle of the signing hall, still stunned, Mike comes up. “What’s wrong? You look like you need to puke.”
I offer him the card. He takes it and reads it. His eyebrows shoot up. “Wow! Did he… does he…”
“Yeah.” I nod. “He wants to represent me. He says he can sell whatever it is I want to write. And you know what?” Mike leans in, interested. “He said my one-stars were bots! Can you believe that?”
“Oh, hell yeah, I can. The shit Essie sees while she’s marketing would blind you, it’s so mean.”
“Hmm. No one ever did this to the romance books, though. Why would they do it to my sci-fi books?”
“Maybe you crossed the wrong person and didn’t even know it?”
“But… I’m… Steve.”
Mike just laughs. “Yeah. I don’t know. But Essie’s just about done. You wanna help me get that banner down?”
I shake myself out of the stupor and nod. “Sure.”
Back behind Essie’s booth I reminisce about how I first met my lovely Cordelia. She’s the real reason this is the best convention. The banner alleyway is mostly gone now, including Essie’s backdrop. It’s always sad when the banner alleyway disappears. It’s like you had this secret space and then it’s like it never was.