NaNo, Part #13 (Final installment! Yay!)
Dec. 23rd, 2009 07:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perpetual_motionThis is a shortish section, only 6,000 words or so, but it's the end for real and true! Aren't you excited?!
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve
And now, the rest of the story [/Paul Harvey]
Our Heroes
I walked straight to a phone booth when we left the building. I kept the door open so Marla could lean in, and I dialed Sally's office directly.
"Sally La Rocca," she answered.
"We're out," I told her. "Marla and I. Mallory and Sandy just sent us away. We're outside at the phone booth." I looked up to the twelfth floor, counted six windows over, and waved when Sally's face appeared. She waved back. I grinned. "I've got a no-bitching clause in my contract. Marla doesn't. We got Alligator Girl."
There's a moment's pause, and then Sally laughs. "Alligator Girl? Really?"
"Hey, Marla was the one who demanded it," I said over her laughter. "And given she's the one who can say what she likes, I'm going to stay on her good side."
"Sure," Sally agrees. "They're probably headed in to boot me next."
"Double-check your contract," I told her. "Make sure you know what your confidentiality clause says."
"Will do. Where will you be?"
I glanced at my watch, looked at Marla. "Getting food?" I asked. Marla nodded. "We'll be at the end of the block, the sandwich place."
"Meet you there when I'm off or fired."
"Greatness." I hug up, picked up the receiver again, and dialed Guy's office number. His receptionist answered on the second ring. "Is Mr. Gardner in?" I asked.
"May I ask whom is calling?"
"Julia Schwartz."
"He's been expecting your call, Miss Schwartz. Please hold."
I let the receiver hang away from my mouth while Guy's receptionist announced me. "He's been expecting my call," I said to Marla.
"Ooh," Marla replied, fluttering a hand in front of her face like she was overly warm. "Fancy."
I chuckled. "Oh, yeah."
"Julie?" Guy asked, the first half of my name cut off slightly, like he'd started talking just before the call had been connected. "I hope you're not checking on a building."
"No," I assured. "Just wanted you to know that Marla and I got bounced. We're headed down to the sandwich shop at the end of the block for a sandwich and coffee. Want to sneak away and join us?"
"I'd love to," Guy said, "but I've got an appearance in an hour."
"No issue. We'll see you tonight, yeah? My place? I'm buying enough cheap champagne for a college New Year's party."
Guy laughed. "That I can make."
"Fantastic. My place at seven or as near as you can make it, all right?"
"Got it. See you."
"Good luck in court," I replied and hung up the phone. I took the stack of information about Alligator Girl from the top of Marla's box and stepped out of the phone booth when she stepped back. "Coffee and sandwiches?" I offered.
"Why the hell not?" she replied, and we walked down the block, ducked into the shop as two businessmen were leaving and settled ourselves at a booth near the back, Marla's cardboard box taking up half her seat.
The waitress came over for our order. "You two are about the happiest people I've seen all day," she said, her smile loosening into something beyond polite. "What brings you in today?"
"We were fired," Marla replied and laughed when the waitress looked shocked.
"It's fine," I told her. "We were kind of expecting it."
"Must not have been much of a place to work," the waitress said.
"It was all right," I said before Marla could say anything. "We'll have two coffees. I'd like a Rueben."
"BLT," Marla ordered.
"Be right up," the waitress promised as she walked away.
"Did you have to scare her?" I asked Marla.
She shrugged. "I didn't mean to. It just…" she shook her head. "I've never been fired," she said, contemplating. "I don't think I should be this giddy."
I laughed so loud the people two tables over looked at us. I gave them an apology wave. "You're only giddy because you know something else is coming," I told her. "Usually getting fired is terrifying because you don't see it coming."
"Well, we knocked out that particular bit, didn't we?" Marla asked, grinning.
"Yeah," I agreed. "We did."
The waitress came back with our coffee, promised us our sandwiches in another minute or two, and walked away. I watched Marla sweeten her coffee, take a drink, smiled when she raised her eyebrows in question. "Nothing," I said. "It's nothing."
Before she could push me on it, Sally came barreling in the door, Ba and Gleeson following in her wake. "We're in the shit!" she announced as she shoved me over.
"Canned like tomatoes," Ba added as Marla moved her cardboard box under her feet so that Ban ad Gleeson could fit in her side of the booth.
"Sally says you have a plan," Gleeson said, trying to sit, nearly falling off of the booth, and then standing to retrieve a chair from a nearby empty table. "What is it?"
"Nothing much," I told her, and Sally and Marla grinned. "We're just going to bring back the Grey Age."
Ba and Gleeson both froze. "What?" Ba asked.
"You can't be serious," Gleeson added.
"Completely," I promised. "I assume you want in."
"Of course!" they answered together.
"Marla," Sally said before I could say anything else, "explain the basics. Julie and I need to a have a this-side-of-the-booth meeting."
Marla started to explain without asking questions. I looked at Sally. "So?" I asked.
"The others will come," she started. "Mallory and Sandy fired us first because Ba and Gleeson were highly enthusiastic during the meeting this morning. But the others are still on board. We might have to wait for their contracts to die out."
"We can make it," I said. "You're two up on me already," I added, gesturing to Ba and Gleeson. "We know how to work with minimal labor."
Sally grinned. "Yeah, we do."
The waitress came by, dropped off the sandwiches for Marla and I, took orders for the rest of the table and started to walk away. "Wait!" I called after her. "We've got one more coming in the door."
Marla, Ba, and Gleeson all turned to look as Dinick walked in the door. "Dinick?" Gleeson asked, shocked. "She's a hack."
"Compared to whom?" I asked, tone sharp. "She wants in, and she wants to improve. Why not let her hit her stride with us?"
"My ears are burning," Dinick greeted and slid in next to Sally when Sally pressed me against the wall on the far side of the booth. "Coffee and a ham and cheese, please," she said to the waitress. "And thanks for waiting."
The waitress looked like she wanted to ask. "You're welcome, Miss. I'll be back in a moment with all those coffees." She walked away, and we all watched her have a quiet conversation with confusion clear on her face.
"We should let her join," Ba said, a grin on her face. "Someone's got to fetch coffee unless Marla's still angling for the job."
"Marla is not angling for the job," Marla assured her. "I'm the bankroll."
"Really?" Dinick asked.
"Really," Sally and I said in unison. It stopped Ba and Gleeson from pressing the issue. Silence went around the table as the waitress dropped off the rest of the coffees.
"What now?" Dinick asked before anyone else could voice it. "What's the plan?"
"We're short a location," I said. "But we're working on it."
"Where do we meet until we've got a set location?" Ba asked. "And what about supplies?"
"Covered, not bought," Marla answered. She reached down and rummaged amongst her things, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. "Let's make a list," she suggested. "Everything we need."
"Location," I said, and she wrote it on the top line.
"Drafting boards," Sally added.
Marla wrote 'drafting boards.' "And?" she prompted.
"Typewriters," Dinick said. "Paper, some more paper, white-out."
"Colored pencils, soft erasers, light boxes," Ba chimed in.
"Storyboards," I said.
"A letterer," Gleeson said, and we all went silent for a moment.
"Shit," Sally muttered.
"Marla can do it for now," I said before anyone else could start to worry. "She's got the perfect handwriting for it." I met Marla's eyes. She flipped a page and wrote, in nearly-perfect Grey Age letters:
We need a name for the company
Everyone laughed. "We don't have a name?" Dinick asked.
"We don't need one until we have a door," Sally pointed out. "It can wait for the moment."
We went back to the other list, coming up with necessities all the way through dinner and four cups of coffee apiece. The sun was starting to go down when we finally decided to clear the table and go home.
"How did Mallory and Sandy do it?" Ba asked as we huddled near the door, not quite ready to call the day over. "They've gone nuts with the whole Billie thing, but they're successful. How'd they get launched?"
"Notoriety," Sally answered. "As soon as the Ellis Act went through, they had money pouring in to set them up. They went into this business with a ready customer base."
"And now we get to steal it," I added.
"How?" Gleeson asked.
I shrugged. "I don't know yet," I said. "But we'll come up with something."
"Who's got a gag order?" Dinick asked, a sudden calculating vibe sliding off of her like a wave. She raised her hand. "Come on, who's got one?"
My hand went up, as did Sally's. Gleeson's went up, but Ba and Marla kept their hands down. "And?" I asked when Dinick's smile widened.
"This is going to hit the paper like a freight train," she said. "Mallory and Sandy firing all of us at once is going to make the business section in a big way. They're going to come calling. Now, we," she gestured to all of us who still had our hands raised, "can't say a word or we're sued, and rightly so, but you two," she pointed to Marla and Ba, "can say whatever you want without reprisal."
"We," Marla said, gesturing to she and I, "have an under-the-table agreement not to be spiteful."
"What'd you get for it?" Ba asked.
"Alligator Girl," Marla said, and I saw Dinick's eyes light up.
"Yes," I answered before she could ask. "I'll let you help."
"Wicked," Dinick replied, beaming. "And we won't be spiteful. That's just bad business. We start tearing into them, we'll come off as rude."
"What do we say, then?" Ba asked.
"I'll draft something tonight," I offered. "Call you with it before the reporters start ringing in."
We split then; Sally, Marla, and I headed for the Monorail to go to my apartment, the others splitting off to their separate routes home. "How did Dinick know all that?" I wondered aloud.
"She has a business degree," Marla told me.
"Really?" I asked.
"I thought you knew."
I shook my head. "No idea. I just figured, if she's writing, it's because she can write."
"She wasn't in the underground," Sally said, "but I bet she read it. The way she's reacted to the news, she knew about all of us."
"Everyone knows about us," I pointed out. "Even if we're not in the book."
"No, it's a different sort of knowing," Sally argued. "The ones who weren't in were kind of shocked but not offended. Dinick's been playing this like she's personally affronted. I think she used to read us."
I didn't respond immediately, let the idea settle as we got on the rail and bumped and rocked our way to my apartment. Guy was waiting on the steps when we got there, a bag of cheap champagne at his feet.
"I called earlier," he told me, "and when you didn't answer, I figured I should go ahead and buy a supply."
"You're great," I told him and opened the outer door to the building. "Come on, let's get celebrating."
The Origin Story
A week after Guy went in front of The Court, there was a knock on the door. I was yawning as I answered it, still exhausted from my trip back to Portland four days before. I blinked when I saw who was in the threshold, convinced I was hallucinating. “Can I help you?” I asked.
“I’m Mallory Wheeler. This is Sandy Lee. You’re Julia Schwartz.”
I wasn’t hallucinating. I opened the door wider, stepped aside, swallowed another yawn. “What can I do for you?” I asked.
“We’re here to speak to you and your roommate. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course,” I said. I waved them in. “Please. Sit down.”
They sat on the couch. I stood in front of them, at a loss for a moment. “Beverage?” I managed to squeak out.
“Water, please, for both of us,” Mallory said.
I stumbled to the kitchen, picked up the phone, dialed Sally while I pulled down glasses and dug in the cupboard for the serving tray.
“Sally La Rocca,” Sally answered.
“You need to get here now,” I told her. “I have people in the living room you need to see.”
“Julie?” Sally sounded slightly distracted. “Are you okay?”
“Home. Now. Quickly. Important.”
“How important? I’ve got a deadline—”
“CMYK,” I said, too frazzled to come up with something clever. Too amazed to remember we didn't need codes anymore. “CMYK.”
“Oh.” Sally breathed in hard. “It’s not—”
“Not cops,” I told her. “The exact opposite of cops. We don't have to worry about cops."
“Give me half an hour.”
I hung up the phone, filled a pitcher with ice and water, balanced everything on the tray, and walked back into the living room. Mallory and Sandy were chatting when I set the tray on the coffee table. “Sally will be here in about half an hour, if you’d like to wait until she gets here to discuss why you’re here,” I said.
“That would be best,” Sandy said. She watched me pour the water, took the glass I held out. “Thank you,” she said.
I wondered what to say. “I haven’t been in touch for a few years,” I said. “I’m wondering how you found me.”
“Your writing style as J. Schwartz and your writing style as Julia Schwartz bear some strong similarities,” Mallory said. “We thought we’d take our chances that you were one in the same.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that answer, wondered if anyone else had attached my styles together before I remembered—again—that most people had no idea who I was because of Billie, and that even if someone did piece it together, I didn't have to worry about it now. “I see.” I continued, when I realized they were watching me. “Well…" I searched for the rest of the sentence. "It's an honor to have you here. We've been wondering—Sally and I—how you were holding up during all of this."
"We did fine, thank you," Sandy said. "We're used to waiting for something to happen."
"And we're used to disappointment, so we were thrilled, obviously," Mallory added. "We assume you were thrilled, as well."
"Of course," I answered. "How could I not be? It's what we've been working for this whole time." I cringed on the inside at my tone. I sounded like a sychphant. "Can I get you a snack?" I asked. "We've got—"
"We're fine," Sandy said. She took a sip of water, pressed her lips together. "Do you like Portland?" she asked. "We only just got in a few hours ago, so we haven't had the chance to appreciate it."
"I like it," I said, and then I wore down the next twenty-seven minutes giving them advice about where to eat, what sights to see, the best route to Mt. Hood. Sally's key in the lock was a relief that made me breathe out in a gust. I stood up, met her in the foyer.
"What's going on?" she asked. Her hair was mussed, there was sweat on her hairline, and I wondered if she'd run from the Monorail stop. "You're okay, right?
"Mallory and Sandy are here," I said in an undertone. "They want to talk to us about something."
Sally's eyes widened. "What?" she hissed, peeling out of her suit jacket. "Are you sure?"
"They're in the living room, Sal; I can't be more sure than that." I gave her a moment to smooth her hair and pat at her forehead with a handkerchief, and then I led the way into the living room, let Mallory and Sandy make the introductions while I grabbed another glass from the cupboard. When I came back, Sally was sitting on the edge of her chair, hands tight in her lap.
"We're opening a company," Mallory said as I poured a glass of water for Sally. "We need writers, and we need artists. We'll start small, but we expect the industry to boom as soon as the Supreme Court ruling clears the necessary hurdles."
"We want to offer you positions with us," Sandy picked up. "You both did stellaer work during the Grey Age, and we want you on staff under us."
Sally looked at me. I took a sip of my water, wondering if I wanted it. Part of me screamed yes, but something tugged me away from it. "Where would we work?" Sally asked.
"We're setting up in the Midwest," Sandy said. "We're still debating where."
"We should have an answer in a couple of weeks," Mallory added, "and we'd like to be publishing within the next six months."
"What about a bankroll?" I asked because it meant I didn't have to accept or decline their offer.
"We're getting started with private donations," Mallory said. "And we've already got advertising lined up."
"Kotex is very interested," Sandy explained. "They're hoping to reach a market they've missed because some women read comics rather than fashion magazines."
"I'm in," Sally said and gave a little bounce, nearly knocking her glass out of her hand. "Wherever you need me, I'm in."
"Excellent," Mallory said and smiled. "And you?" she asked. "We'd give you more time to consider your answer, but we are on an accelerated plan. You understand."
"Sure," I said, "I understand," I clarified when Mallory, Sandy, and Sally all looked pleased. "Do you have time for me to ask a couple of questions?" I asked.
"Of course," Mallory said.
"If they're brief," Sandy added.
I considered which question to ask. They had a bankroll, which meant they had money to pay people. It'd be nice to go back to the Midwest. Working with Sally again would be great. "Who else are you asking?" I asked. "Are you approaching everyone from the underground?"
"No one in the book," Mallory said. "But everyone else, yes."
"No one in the book?" I asked, surprised. "A lot of talented people are in that book."
"We want people we can trust," Sandy stated. "We want people who won't decide the work is too hard."
"I see," I said. I looked down into my water glass, debated not asking my next question. "No matter how good they are?" I asked. "No matter how talented, how organized?"
"We don't want Billie Fraction," Sally said, flat. "We won't do business with Billie Fraction."
Mallory blinked. "I don't—"
"They were in her speaks," Sandy explained to Mallory.
"Oh, yes," Mallory said with a nod. "Of course."
"If you take us," Sally said, and she straightened her shoulders, "you don't get to bring in Billie Fraction for anything."
"We wouldn't want to," Mallory assured us. "Considering what she did…" she paused, pressed her lips together, looked down at her hands. "She will not be in play."
"Ever?" I asked and started at the venom in my own voice.
"We're idealists, Miss Schwartz," Sandy said, "but we're not idiots. Billie Fraction's out of play. You have our word."
"We could put it in your contracts, if you like," Malloy offered.
I looked at Sally. She sketched an 'N' on the back of her hand with the finger of her other hand. "No need," I said. "We trust your word."
"We appreciate that," Mallory said, smiling.
"We're in," I told them both. "You've got us if you need us."
"We do," Sandy said with a nod. "And we appreciate your willinginess to go into business with us."
"We're flattered you think so much of our work," Sally replied, and we all smiled at one another.
"We need to go," Sandy said, standing. "We have other people to see."
"We'll send contracts as soon as we find an attorney," Mallory told us.
"I know one," I told them, "if you're looking."
"We've got a short list, but we'll let you know if you need input," Mallory said.
We all shook hands, and Sally and I watched Mallory and Sandy to the door, only looking at each other in shock once the door was safely closed and locked. "Shit," Sally said, and she burst out laughing. "Comics, Jules!" she yelled. "Comics!"
I grinned, hugged her when she hugged me. "Comics," I repeated. "We're going to make comics."
The Summation
It took three weeks to find a building, another two to get it set up to Marla's exacting standards. "We need natural light," she argued when a realtor tried to convince us an old factory space with only windows on the far wall. "We need to be able to see how the colors actually look."
Sally, Ba, and Gleeson spent their time amassing supplies while Dinick and I tried to figure out how to run everything. "We should get an on-premises attorney," Dinick advised me. "We'll lose ground if we have to make a call every time someone wants to sue us."
"You think we'll get sued that often?" I asked, leaning back in the creaky chair Marla had found for my unmatching, stand-in desk. "I don't plan to be an asshole of that calibar."
"Mallory and Sandy want our heads," Dinick pointed out. "They'll yank the rug out from under us if we give them an opening. We have to be prepped to fight them off."
I put my arms behind my head, nearly lost my balance in my chair, had to slam my hands on the desk to stop myself from falling backwards. "How'd you end up a writer?" I asked when Dinick had stopped laughing. "You're so on with all this business, and you're a writer?"
"Writing's more fun," Dinick told me. "And now I'm getting plenty of business experience."
I grinned. "Point."
The week before we were officially ready to launch, the phones were connected, and the reporters started calling. Ba and Marla handled it for two days, keeping a polite, controlled lid on things until Marla stalked into my office and crossed her arms. "You and Sally have to say something," she ordered. "Everyone knows the two of you were wrapped up with Billie, and the reporters are smart enough to be two and two together."
"That's a first," I snarked and held up a placating hand before Marla could snap at me. "What could I say?" I asked. "I'm gagged."
"Not this much." Marla tossed a copy of the a morning paper on my desk. "Business section is guessing it’s a lover's quarrel between you and Billie."
"According to whom?" I asked, flipping to the Business section. There it was, halfway through the article:
Inside sources at Perpetual Comics say it was not creative differences but personal differences that caused the split of Sally La Rocca and Julia Schwartz to leave the company. One source was willing to be quoted as saying, "Julie and Billie used to be an item, back in Grey Age, and Billie left her, and Julie's never forgiven her."
"This is a joke!" I yelped. "There is no way—"
"Everyone's seeing that," Marla told me. "Everyone thinks you're in a lover's quarrel with her."
"Shit." I ran my hands through my hair, looked around my shiny new office, looked at Marla. "Say icebox," I told her.
"Icebox," she said, grinning.
"Get me a name," I said. "I don't care who, but someone who'll be listened to when he shows up with the interview."
"And Sally?"
"I'll talk to her." I picked up the paper, followed Marla out of my office. She went left, I went right. Sally's office was next to mine, and when I stepped inside, she was mid-meeting. "Out." I ordered, and I raised my eyebrows when Ba and Gleeson didn't move. "Noble," I said, "but seriously, boot it."
"We'll pick up in a few," Sally said, and Ba and Gleeson scattered. "What's up?" she asked and caught the paper just before it hit her desk. "What am I looking at?"
"Perpetual's put out word that I defected because Billie dumped me."
Sally cringed. "Oh, they did not."
"They did," I huffed. I put my hands on my hips, glanced over my shoulder. "I've got Marla putting a call into someone so I can se things straight. You in?"
Sally finished skimming the article, folded the paper in half and dropped it into her wastebin with a graceful flick of her wrist. "Pass," she said. "I'll tackle my part when they start saying I left because…" She wrinkled her nose in thought. "I don't know what they'll come up with, but it'll be amusing."
"Yeah, amusing," I replied, dry.
"Get out," Sally ordered. "I have a meeting."
"Lunch," Marla said before I could walk back into my own office. "You and the reporter from the Times. He's buying at Manetti's at one."
"You're tops," I told her.
"Also, you need a new secretary," she added. "I'm running your accounts for now, and I'm lettering. I don't have time to make your appointments." She grinned to show she was teasing.
"Can you be my secretary long enough to get me a list?" I asked. "I'll be happy to let you letter if someone else is here to type mine."
"I'll see what I can do," she promised and went back to her desk.
I considered changing shirts before the lunch but sat down and proofed scripts instead. Marla threw a pencil at my door at noon, mimed for me to brush my hair. When I walked out of the office, brush in hand, she turned me around, braided my hair, and secured it with a clip. "Good luck," she said in my ear, and I almost kissed her.
"Back in a couple of hours," I said over my shoulder to Sally. "Don't bankrupt the place while I'm gone."
Sally waved a sheaf of artwork in my direction. "When would I have the time?" she asked.
"Name?" I asked Marla.
"Ben Murdock. He knows what you look like. He'll spot you."
"All right." I slipped on my coat, patted myself down for my wallet. "Wish me luck."
"Icebox," Marla said instead.
I spotted Ben Murdock a second before he spotted me. He was wearing a checked shirt, khakis, and a press badge. "Julia Schwartz," I introduced myself.
"Ben Murdock. Nice to meet you." He signaled to the hostess, and she led us to a booth in a quiet back corner. "I can order, if you don't mind," he said.
"Go right ahead," I told him.
He requested two glasses of red wine, steaks, potatoes, and ceaser salad. "All right," he said when the waitress walked away, "let's talk."
"Fire away," I told him.
Ben pulled out a notebook, flipped it open to a clean page, patted himself down for a pencil and licked the tip before putting it to paper. "Perpetual Comics said you left over a personal issue."
"Spell it out," I told him. "I saw the Business section."
He raised an eyebrow. "All right," he agreed. "Did you leave Perpetual Comics because Billie Fraction broke up with you ten years ago?"
"No," I answered. I waited. Ben watched me. "You want more, you have to ask, Mr. Murdock. I've got a slightly tricky gag order I'm trying to answer around."
"I see," he said and wrote something else. "And what does this gag order cover?"
"Business practices at Perpetual Comics. Storylines, new characters, that sort of thing."
"Okay," Ben wrote it down. "What's the connection between Billie Fraction's hiring at Perpetual and your exit?" he asked.
"Prett much everything," I admitted. "Billie Fraction gave up Wendy Ellis to the feds during the Grey Age because she couldn't stomach spending five years in prison for book-making. Were we together at the time? Yes. But it's not the fact that we split that I split from Perpetual; it's the fact that her throwing Wendy Ellis under the metaphorical bus got Wendy Ellis really and honestly killed."
Ben paused in his writing. I could see a dark pencil line trailing off the page. "What?" he asked.
"Billie Fraction gave testimony that led to Wendy Ellis getting so many charages as a commie that Wendy Ellis got the death penalty," I said slowly, wanting to watch his face when he realized that the interview he was getting was a great deal more involved than he'd probably expected. "She was hung by the neck until dead, and it was Billie Fraction who made the noose."
He blinked at me, looked at his notes like they'd rearrange into something else. "Isn't there a rule against that?" he asked. "Hiring people who did that?"
"There is," I confirmed, "but the ones who made the rule are the ones who hired Billie Fraction at Perpetual, so you see why I got out when I could."
Ben tapped his pencil against his notebook, looked up in surprise when the waitress brought our wine. "Thank you," he murmured and finally looked at me again. "And what's Billie Fraction got to do with your new company?"
"Injustice Comics," I told him. "We're going by Injustice Comics."
"All right." He wrote it down. "And how does Billie Fraction affect the work over there?"
"She doesn't," I told him. "Billie Fraction's not a part of this. Billie Fraction's name isn't anywhere on this. She is, as far as I'm concerned, written off the page." I sipped my wine, watched Ben stare at me. "Next question?" I prompted. "Something more interesting, if you wouldn't mind. I prefer to look forward."
"Why?" Ben asked.
"Because there's nothing changeable behind me. Because the past I have is something I can't alter, and the future is nothing but changeable time."
"What are you changing next?"
"Everything," I answered. "Or I'm giving it a hell of a try, at least."
"From everything I've read, you're the type to do it," Ben said.
"I try."
And thus ends the NaNo. Thoughts?
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve
And now, the rest of the story [/Paul Harvey]
Our Heroes
I walked straight to a phone booth when we left the building. I kept the door open so Marla could lean in, and I dialed Sally's office directly.
"Sally La Rocca," she answered.
"We're out," I told her. "Marla and I. Mallory and Sandy just sent us away. We're outside at the phone booth." I looked up to the twelfth floor, counted six windows over, and waved when Sally's face appeared. She waved back. I grinned. "I've got a no-bitching clause in my contract. Marla doesn't. We got Alligator Girl."
There's a moment's pause, and then Sally laughs. "Alligator Girl? Really?"
"Hey, Marla was the one who demanded it," I said over her laughter. "And given she's the one who can say what she likes, I'm going to stay on her good side."
"Sure," Sally agrees. "They're probably headed in to boot me next."
"Double-check your contract," I told her. "Make sure you know what your confidentiality clause says."
"Will do. Where will you be?"
I glanced at my watch, looked at Marla. "Getting food?" I asked. Marla nodded. "We'll be at the end of the block, the sandwich place."
"Meet you there when I'm off or fired."
"Greatness." I hug up, picked up the receiver again, and dialed Guy's office number. His receptionist answered on the second ring. "Is Mr. Gardner in?" I asked.
"May I ask whom is calling?"
"Julia Schwartz."
"He's been expecting your call, Miss Schwartz. Please hold."
I let the receiver hang away from my mouth while Guy's receptionist announced me. "He's been expecting my call," I said to Marla.
"Ooh," Marla replied, fluttering a hand in front of her face like she was overly warm. "Fancy."
I chuckled. "Oh, yeah."
"Julie?" Guy asked, the first half of my name cut off slightly, like he'd started talking just before the call had been connected. "I hope you're not checking on a building."
"No," I assured. "Just wanted you to know that Marla and I got bounced. We're headed down to the sandwich shop at the end of the block for a sandwich and coffee. Want to sneak away and join us?"
"I'd love to," Guy said, "but I've got an appearance in an hour."
"No issue. We'll see you tonight, yeah? My place? I'm buying enough cheap champagne for a college New Year's party."
Guy laughed. "That I can make."
"Fantastic. My place at seven or as near as you can make it, all right?"
"Got it. See you."
"Good luck in court," I replied and hung up the phone. I took the stack of information about Alligator Girl from the top of Marla's box and stepped out of the phone booth when she stepped back. "Coffee and sandwiches?" I offered.
"Why the hell not?" she replied, and we walked down the block, ducked into the shop as two businessmen were leaving and settled ourselves at a booth near the back, Marla's cardboard box taking up half her seat.
The waitress came over for our order. "You two are about the happiest people I've seen all day," she said, her smile loosening into something beyond polite. "What brings you in today?"
"We were fired," Marla replied and laughed when the waitress looked shocked.
"It's fine," I told her. "We were kind of expecting it."
"Must not have been much of a place to work," the waitress said.
"It was all right," I said before Marla could say anything. "We'll have two coffees. I'd like a Rueben."
"BLT," Marla ordered.
"Be right up," the waitress promised as she walked away.
"Did you have to scare her?" I asked Marla.
She shrugged. "I didn't mean to. It just…" she shook her head. "I've never been fired," she said, contemplating. "I don't think I should be this giddy."
I laughed so loud the people two tables over looked at us. I gave them an apology wave. "You're only giddy because you know something else is coming," I told her. "Usually getting fired is terrifying because you don't see it coming."
"Well, we knocked out that particular bit, didn't we?" Marla asked, grinning.
"Yeah," I agreed. "We did."
The waitress came back with our coffee, promised us our sandwiches in another minute or two, and walked away. I watched Marla sweeten her coffee, take a drink, smiled when she raised her eyebrows in question. "Nothing," I said. "It's nothing."
Before she could push me on it, Sally came barreling in the door, Ba and Gleeson following in her wake. "We're in the shit!" she announced as she shoved me over.
"Canned like tomatoes," Ba added as Marla moved her cardboard box under her feet so that Ban ad Gleeson could fit in her side of the booth.
"Sally says you have a plan," Gleeson said, trying to sit, nearly falling off of the booth, and then standing to retrieve a chair from a nearby empty table. "What is it?"
"Nothing much," I told her, and Sally and Marla grinned. "We're just going to bring back the Grey Age."
Ba and Gleeson both froze. "What?" Ba asked.
"You can't be serious," Gleeson added.
"Completely," I promised. "I assume you want in."
"Of course!" they answered together.
"Marla," Sally said before I could say anything else, "explain the basics. Julie and I need to a have a this-side-of-the-booth meeting."
Marla started to explain without asking questions. I looked at Sally. "So?" I asked.
"The others will come," she started. "Mallory and Sandy fired us first because Ba and Gleeson were highly enthusiastic during the meeting this morning. But the others are still on board. We might have to wait for their contracts to die out."
"We can make it," I said. "You're two up on me already," I added, gesturing to Ba and Gleeson. "We know how to work with minimal labor."
Sally grinned. "Yeah, we do."
The waitress came by, dropped off the sandwiches for Marla and I, took orders for the rest of the table and started to walk away. "Wait!" I called after her. "We've got one more coming in the door."
Marla, Ba, and Gleeson all turned to look as Dinick walked in the door. "Dinick?" Gleeson asked, shocked. "She's a hack."
"Compared to whom?" I asked, tone sharp. "She wants in, and she wants to improve. Why not let her hit her stride with us?"
"My ears are burning," Dinick greeted and slid in next to Sally when Sally pressed me against the wall on the far side of the booth. "Coffee and a ham and cheese, please," she said to the waitress. "And thanks for waiting."
The waitress looked like she wanted to ask. "You're welcome, Miss. I'll be back in a moment with all those coffees." She walked away, and we all watched her have a quiet conversation with confusion clear on her face.
"We should let her join," Ba said, a grin on her face. "Someone's got to fetch coffee unless Marla's still angling for the job."
"Marla is not angling for the job," Marla assured her. "I'm the bankroll."
"Really?" Dinick asked.
"Really," Sally and I said in unison. It stopped Ba and Gleeson from pressing the issue. Silence went around the table as the waitress dropped off the rest of the coffees.
"What now?" Dinick asked before anyone else could voice it. "What's the plan?"
"We're short a location," I said. "But we're working on it."
"Where do we meet until we've got a set location?" Ba asked. "And what about supplies?"
"Covered, not bought," Marla answered. She reached down and rummaged amongst her things, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. "Let's make a list," she suggested. "Everything we need."
"Location," I said, and she wrote it on the top line.
"Drafting boards," Sally added.
Marla wrote 'drafting boards.' "And?" she prompted.
"Typewriters," Dinick said. "Paper, some more paper, white-out."
"Colored pencils, soft erasers, light boxes," Ba chimed in.
"Storyboards," I said.
"A letterer," Gleeson said, and we all went silent for a moment.
"Shit," Sally muttered.
"Marla can do it for now," I said before anyone else could start to worry. "She's got the perfect handwriting for it." I met Marla's eyes. She flipped a page and wrote, in nearly-perfect Grey Age letters:
We need a name for the company
Everyone laughed. "We don't have a name?" Dinick asked.
"We don't need one until we have a door," Sally pointed out. "It can wait for the moment."
We went back to the other list, coming up with necessities all the way through dinner and four cups of coffee apiece. The sun was starting to go down when we finally decided to clear the table and go home.
"How did Mallory and Sandy do it?" Ba asked as we huddled near the door, not quite ready to call the day over. "They've gone nuts with the whole Billie thing, but they're successful. How'd they get launched?"
"Notoriety," Sally answered. "As soon as the Ellis Act went through, they had money pouring in to set them up. They went into this business with a ready customer base."
"And now we get to steal it," I added.
"How?" Gleeson asked.
I shrugged. "I don't know yet," I said. "But we'll come up with something."
"Who's got a gag order?" Dinick asked, a sudden calculating vibe sliding off of her like a wave. She raised her hand. "Come on, who's got one?"
My hand went up, as did Sally's. Gleeson's went up, but Ba and Marla kept their hands down. "And?" I asked when Dinick's smile widened.
"This is going to hit the paper like a freight train," she said. "Mallory and Sandy firing all of us at once is going to make the business section in a big way. They're going to come calling. Now, we," she gestured to all of us who still had our hands raised, "can't say a word or we're sued, and rightly so, but you two," she pointed to Marla and Ba, "can say whatever you want without reprisal."
"We," Marla said, gesturing to she and I, "have an under-the-table agreement not to be spiteful."
"What'd you get for it?" Ba asked.
"Alligator Girl," Marla said, and I saw Dinick's eyes light up.
"Yes," I answered before she could ask. "I'll let you help."
"Wicked," Dinick replied, beaming. "And we won't be spiteful. That's just bad business. We start tearing into them, we'll come off as rude."
"What do we say, then?" Ba asked.
"I'll draft something tonight," I offered. "Call you with it before the reporters start ringing in."
We split then; Sally, Marla, and I headed for the Monorail to go to my apartment, the others splitting off to their separate routes home. "How did Dinick know all that?" I wondered aloud.
"She has a business degree," Marla told me.
"Really?" I asked.
"I thought you knew."
I shook my head. "No idea. I just figured, if she's writing, it's because she can write."
"She wasn't in the underground," Sally said, "but I bet she read it. The way she's reacted to the news, she knew about all of us."
"Everyone knows about us," I pointed out. "Even if we're not in the book."
"No, it's a different sort of knowing," Sally argued. "The ones who weren't in were kind of shocked but not offended. Dinick's been playing this like she's personally affronted. I think she used to read us."
I didn't respond immediately, let the idea settle as we got on the rail and bumped and rocked our way to my apartment. Guy was waiting on the steps when we got there, a bag of cheap champagne at his feet.
"I called earlier," he told me, "and when you didn't answer, I figured I should go ahead and buy a supply."
"You're great," I told him and opened the outer door to the building. "Come on, let's get celebrating."
The Origin Story
A week after Guy went in front of The Court, there was a knock on the door. I was yawning as I answered it, still exhausted from my trip back to Portland four days before. I blinked when I saw who was in the threshold, convinced I was hallucinating. “Can I help you?” I asked.
“I’m Mallory Wheeler. This is Sandy Lee. You’re Julia Schwartz.”
I wasn’t hallucinating. I opened the door wider, stepped aside, swallowed another yawn. “What can I do for you?” I asked.
“We’re here to speak to you and your roommate. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course,” I said. I waved them in. “Please. Sit down.”
They sat on the couch. I stood in front of them, at a loss for a moment. “Beverage?” I managed to squeak out.
“Water, please, for both of us,” Mallory said.
I stumbled to the kitchen, picked up the phone, dialed Sally while I pulled down glasses and dug in the cupboard for the serving tray.
“Sally La Rocca,” Sally answered.
“You need to get here now,” I told her. “I have people in the living room you need to see.”
“Julie?” Sally sounded slightly distracted. “Are you okay?”
“Home. Now. Quickly. Important.”
“How important? I’ve got a deadline—”
“CMYK,” I said, too frazzled to come up with something clever. Too amazed to remember we didn't need codes anymore. “CMYK.”
“Oh.” Sally breathed in hard. “It’s not—”
“Not cops,” I told her. “The exact opposite of cops. We don't have to worry about cops."
“Give me half an hour.”
I hung up the phone, filled a pitcher with ice and water, balanced everything on the tray, and walked back into the living room. Mallory and Sandy were chatting when I set the tray on the coffee table. “Sally will be here in about half an hour, if you’d like to wait until she gets here to discuss why you’re here,” I said.
“That would be best,” Sandy said. She watched me pour the water, took the glass I held out. “Thank you,” she said.
I wondered what to say. “I haven’t been in touch for a few years,” I said. “I’m wondering how you found me.”
“Your writing style as J. Schwartz and your writing style as Julia Schwartz bear some strong similarities,” Mallory said. “We thought we’d take our chances that you were one in the same.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that answer, wondered if anyone else had attached my styles together before I remembered—again—that most people had no idea who I was because of Billie, and that even if someone did piece it together, I didn't have to worry about it now. “I see.” I continued, when I realized they were watching me. “Well…" I searched for the rest of the sentence. "It's an honor to have you here. We've been wondering—Sally and I—how you were holding up during all of this."
"We did fine, thank you," Sandy said. "We're used to waiting for something to happen."
"And we're used to disappointment, so we were thrilled, obviously," Mallory added. "We assume you were thrilled, as well."
"Of course," I answered. "How could I not be? It's what we've been working for this whole time." I cringed on the inside at my tone. I sounded like a sychphant. "Can I get you a snack?" I asked. "We've got—"
"We're fine," Sandy said. She took a sip of water, pressed her lips together. "Do you like Portland?" she asked. "We only just got in a few hours ago, so we haven't had the chance to appreciate it."
"I like it," I said, and then I wore down the next twenty-seven minutes giving them advice about where to eat, what sights to see, the best route to Mt. Hood. Sally's key in the lock was a relief that made me breathe out in a gust. I stood up, met her in the foyer.
"What's going on?" she asked. Her hair was mussed, there was sweat on her hairline, and I wondered if she'd run from the Monorail stop. "You're okay, right?
"Mallory and Sandy are here," I said in an undertone. "They want to talk to us about something."
Sally's eyes widened. "What?" she hissed, peeling out of her suit jacket. "Are you sure?"
"They're in the living room, Sal; I can't be more sure than that." I gave her a moment to smooth her hair and pat at her forehead with a handkerchief, and then I led the way into the living room, let Mallory and Sandy make the introductions while I grabbed another glass from the cupboard. When I came back, Sally was sitting on the edge of her chair, hands tight in her lap.
"We're opening a company," Mallory said as I poured a glass of water for Sally. "We need writers, and we need artists. We'll start small, but we expect the industry to boom as soon as the Supreme Court ruling clears the necessary hurdles."
"We want to offer you positions with us," Sandy picked up. "You both did stellaer work during the Grey Age, and we want you on staff under us."
Sally looked at me. I took a sip of my water, wondering if I wanted it. Part of me screamed yes, but something tugged me away from it. "Where would we work?" Sally asked.
"We're setting up in the Midwest," Sandy said. "We're still debating where."
"We should have an answer in a couple of weeks," Mallory added, "and we'd like to be publishing within the next six months."
"What about a bankroll?" I asked because it meant I didn't have to accept or decline their offer.
"We're getting started with private donations," Mallory said. "And we've already got advertising lined up."
"Kotex is very interested," Sandy explained. "They're hoping to reach a market they've missed because some women read comics rather than fashion magazines."
"I'm in," Sally said and gave a little bounce, nearly knocking her glass out of her hand. "Wherever you need me, I'm in."
"Excellent," Mallory said and smiled. "And you?" she asked. "We'd give you more time to consider your answer, but we are on an accelerated plan. You understand."
"Sure," I said, "I understand," I clarified when Mallory, Sandy, and Sally all looked pleased. "Do you have time for me to ask a couple of questions?" I asked.
"Of course," Mallory said.
"If they're brief," Sandy added.
I considered which question to ask. They had a bankroll, which meant they had money to pay people. It'd be nice to go back to the Midwest. Working with Sally again would be great. "Who else are you asking?" I asked. "Are you approaching everyone from the underground?"
"No one in the book," Mallory said. "But everyone else, yes."
"No one in the book?" I asked, surprised. "A lot of talented people are in that book."
"We want people we can trust," Sandy stated. "We want people who won't decide the work is too hard."
"I see," I said. I looked down into my water glass, debated not asking my next question. "No matter how good they are?" I asked. "No matter how talented, how organized?"
"We don't want Billie Fraction," Sally said, flat. "We won't do business with Billie Fraction."
Mallory blinked. "I don't—"
"They were in her speaks," Sandy explained to Mallory.
"Oh, yes," Mallory said with a nod. "Of course."
"If you take us," Sally said, and she straightened her shoulders, "you don't get to bring in Billie Fraction for anything."
"We wouldn't want to," Mallory assured us. "Considering what she did…" she paused, pressed her lips together, looked down at her hands. "She will not be in play."
"Ever?" I asked and started at the venom in my own voice.
"We're idealists, Miss Schwartz," Sandy said, "but we're not idiots. Billie Fraction's out of play. You have our word."
"We could put it in your contracts, if you like," Malloy offered.
I looked at Sally. She sketched an 'N' on the back of her hand with the finger of her other hand. "No need," I said. "We trust your word."
"We appreciate that," Mallory said, smiling.
"We're in," I told them both. "You've got us if you need us."
"We do," Sandy said with a nod. "And we appreciate your willinginess to go into business with us."
"We're flattered you think so much of our work," Sally replied, and we all smiled at one another.
"We need to go," Sandy said, standing. "We have other people to see."
"We'll send contracts as soon as we find an attorney," Mallory told us.
"I know one," I told them, "if you're looking."
"We've got a short list, but we'll let you know if you need input," Mallory said.
We all shook hands, and Sally and I watched Mallory and Sandy to the door, only looking at each other in shock once the door was safely closed and locked. "Shit," Sally said, and she burst out laughing. "Comics, Jules!" she yelled. "Comics!"
I grinned, hugged her when she hugged me. "Comics," I repeated. "We're going to make comics."
The Summation
It took three weeks to find a building, another two to get it set up to Marla's exacting standards. "We need natural light," she argued when a realtor tried to convince us an old factory space with only windows on the far wall. "We need to be able to see how the colors actually look."
Sally, Ba, and Gleeson spent their time amassing supplies while Dinick and I tried to figure out how to run everything. "We should get an on-premises attorney," Dinick advised me. "We'll lose ground if we have to make a call every time someone wants to sue us."
"You think we'll get sued that often?" I asked, leaning back in the creaky chair Marla had found for my unmatching, stand-in desk. "I don't plan to be an asshole of that calibar."
"Mallory and Sandy want our heads," Dinick pointed out. "They'll yank the rug out from under us if we give them an opening. We have to be prepped to fight them off."
I put my arms behind my head, nearly lost my balance in my chair, had to slam my hands on the desk to stop myself from falling backwards. "How'd you end up a writer?" I asked when Dinick had stopped laughing. "You're so on with all this business, and you're a writer?"
"Writing's more fun," Dinick told me. "And now I'm getting plenty of business experience."
I grinned. "Point."
The week before we were officially ready to launch, the phones were connected, and the reporters started calling. Ba and Marla handled it for two days, keeping a polite, controlled lid on things until Marla stalked into my office and crossed her arms. "You and Sally have to say something," she ordered. "Everyone knows the two of you were wrapped up with Billie, and the reporters are smart enough to be two and two together."
"That's a first," I snarked and held up a placating hand before Marla could snap at me. "What could I say?" I asked. "I'm gagged."
"Not this much." Marla tossed a copy of the a morning paper on my desk. "Business section is guessing it’s a lover's quarrel between you and Billie."
"According to whom?" I asked, flipping to the Business section. There it was, halfway through the article:
Inside sources at Perpetual Comics say it was not creative differences but personal differences that caused the split of Sally La Rocca and Julia Schwartz to leave the company. One source was willing to be quoted as saying, "Julie and Billie used to be an item, back in Grey Age, and Billie left her, and Julie's never forgiven her."
"This is a joke!" I yelped. "There is no way—"
"Everyone's seeing that," Marla told me. "Everyone thinks you're in a lover's quarrel with her."
"Shit." I ran my hands through my hair, looked around my shiny new office, looked at Marla. "Say icebox," I told her.
"Icebox," she said, grinning.
"Get me a name," I said. "I don't care who, but someone who'll be listened to when he shows up with the interview."
"And Sally?"
"I'll talk to her." I picked up the paper, followed Marla out of my office. She went left, I went right. Sally's office was next to mine, and when I stepped inside, she was mid-meeting. "Out." I ordered, and I raised my eyebrows when Ba and Gleeson didn't move. "Noble," I said, "but seriously, boot it."
"We'll pick up in a few," Sally said, and Ba and Gleeson scattered. "What's up?" she asked and caught the paper just before it hit her desk. "What am I looking at?"
"Perpetual's put out word that I defected because Billie dumped me."
Sally cringed. "Oh, they did not."
"They did," I huffed. I put my hands on my hips, glanced over my shoulder. "I've got Marla putting a call into someone so I can se things straight. You in?"
Sally finished skimming the article, folded the paper in half and dropped it into her wastebin with a graceful flick of her wrist. "Pass," she said. "I'll tackle my part when they start saying I left because…" She wrinkled her nose in thought. "I don't know what they'll come up with, but it'll be amusing."
"Yeah, amusing," I replied, dry.
"Get out," Sally ordered. "I have a meeting."
"Lunch," Marla said before I could walk back into my own office. "You and the reporter from the Times. He's buying at Manetti's at one."
"You're tops," I told her.
"Also, you need a new secretary," she added. "I'm running your accounts for now, and I'm lettering. I don't have time to make your appointments." She grinned to show she was teasing.
"Can you be my secretary long enough to get me a list?" I asked. "I'll be happy to let you letter if someone else is here to type mine."
"I'll see what I can do," she promised and went back to her desk.
I considered changing shirts before the lunch but sat down and proofed scripts instead. Marla threw a pencil at my door at noon, mimed for me to brush my hair. When I walked out of the office, brush in hand, she turned me around, braided my hair, and secured it with a clip. "Good luck," she said in my ear, and I almost kissed her.
"Back in a couple of hours," I said over my shoulder to Sally. "Don't bankrupt the place while I'm gone."
Sally waved a sheaf of artwork in my direction. "When would I have the time?" she asked.
"Name?" I asked Marla.
"Ben Murdock. He knows what you look like. He'll spot you."
"All right." I slipped on my coat, patted myself down for my wallet. "Wish me luck."
"Icebox," Marla said instead.
I spotted Ben Murdock a second before he spotted me. He was wearing a checked shirt, khakis, and a press badge. "Julia Schwartz," I introduced myself.
"Ben Murdock. Nice to meet you." He signaled to the hostess, and she led us to a booth in a quiet back corner. "I can order, if you don't mind," he said.
"Go right ahead," I told him.
He requested two glasses of red wine, steaks, potatoes, and ceaser salad. "All right," he said when the waitress walked away, "let's talk."
"Fire away," I told him.
Ben pulled out a notebook, flipped it open to a clean page, patted himself down for a pencil and licked the tip before putting it to paper. "Perpetual Comics said you left over a personal issue."
"Spell it out," I told him. "I saw the Business section."
He raised an eyebrow. "All right," he agreed. "Did you leave Perpetual Comics because Billie Fraction broke up with you ten years ago?"
"No," I answered. I waited. Ben watched me. "You want more, you have to ask, Mr. Murdock. I've got a slightly tricky gag order I'm trying to answer around."
"I see," he said and wrote something else. "And what does this gag order cover?"
"Business practices at Perpetual Comics. Storylines, new characters, that sort of thing."
"Okay," Ben wrote it down. "What's the connection between Billie Fraction's hiring at Perpetual and your exit?" he asked.
"Prett much everything," I admitted. "Billie Fraction gave up Wendy Ellis to the feds during the Grey Age because she couldn't stomach spending five years in prison for book-making. Were we together at the time? Yes. But it's not the fact that we split that I split from Perpetual; it's the fact that her throwing Wendy Ellis under the metaphorical bus got Wendy Ellis really and honestly killed."
Ben paused in his writing. I could see a dark pencil line trailing off the page. "What?" he asked.
"Billie Fraction gave testimony that led to Wendy Ellis getting so many charages as a commie that Wendy Ellis got the death penalty," I said slowly, wanting to watch his face when he realized that the interview he was getting was a great deal more involved than he'd probably expected. "She was hung by the neck until dead, and it was Billie Fraction who made the noose."
He blinked at me, looked at his notes like they'd rearrange into something else. "Isn't there a rule against that?" he asked. "Hiring people who did that?"
"There is," I confirmed, "but the ones who made the rule are the ones who hired Billie Fraction at Perpetual, so you see why I got out when I could."
Ben tapped his pencil against his notebook, looked up in surprise when the waitress brought our wine. "Thank you," he murmured and finally looked at me again. "And what's Billie Fraction got to do with your new company?"
"Injustice Comics," I told him. "We're going by Injustice Comics."
"All right." He wrote it down. "And how does Billie Fraction affect the work over there?"
"She doesn't," I told him. "Billie Fraction's not a part of this. Billie Fraction's name isn't anywhere on this. She is, as far as I'm concerned, written off the page." I sipped my wine, watched Ben stare at me. "Next question?" I prompted. "Something more interesting, if you wouldn't mind. I prefer to look forward."
"Why?" Ben asked.
"Because there's nothing changeable behind me. Because the past I have is something I can't alter, and the future is nothing but changeable time."
"What are you changing next?"
"Everything," I answered. "Or I'm giving it a hell of a try, at least."
"From everything I've read, you're the type to do it," Ben said.
"I try."
And thus ends the NaNo. Thoughts?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-12-24 03:21 pm (UTC)Ben's reaction to Wendy's fate was spot-on, by the way. All the allusions were; you don't come out and say things often, but you hint around the worldbuilding so effectively that by the time something is stated, we -know- unless you were hiding it on purpose.
You craft one hell of a story, and I'm proud I got to see it come to life. Well done.
no subject
on 2009-12-24 06:46 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-12-24 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-12-25 08:56 pm (UTC)