Free Adulation by Elisa Lorello Page B

smoke.”
    Danny seemed surprised. “Was it?” He checked his watch to find that not more than five minuteshad passed.
    “Yeah, you OK? Doesn’t look like it helped much.”
    As Paul said the words, Danny felt the pang in his lungs for more nicotine. Wistfully he lookedback at the door and wished to be on the other side of it.
    “No,” he said. “It didn’t.”

    CHAPTER SIX
    Sunny Smith

    “Y O U   WHAT ?” SAID   Georgie and Theo in unison when I returned to the line, which had sprouted like a beanstalk in the short time I’d left it.
    “Shhh,” I said. “I don’t want the world to know.”
    “Seriously? He was just standing there, taking a smoke break,” Georgie said more like a statement than a question.
    “I didn’t know he still smoked,” said Theo.
    “What did he say to you?” asked Georgie.
    “I honestly don’t remember,” I replied. That wasn’t entirely true; I remembered being startled to see him standing there, a previously two-dimensional image come to life. I remembered him not shaking my hand so much as   holding   it, his hand warm, not too big or overpowering. I remembered him asking me what my name was and my mind going blank. I remembered the way he looked at me, right when the Tony Soprano wannabe said “smokin’ hot.” I remembered his eyes: red, weary, trying to avoid the sun. I remembered feeling like we’d just exchanged a key to each other’s hearts, unlocking them for mere seconds and getting a sneak peek. I saw loneliness in those mere seconds. I saw wanting. I saw a friend and—what was the  word he used?—a   compatriot , someone who came from the same place as me.
    OK, so I remembered plenty.
    “It was, like, two minutes ago!” said Georgie, exasperated.
    “It happened pretty fast.”
    “What did you say to him?” asked Theo.
    I’d always imagined what I would actually say if or when I finally came face to face with Danny Masters:   You’re my favorite writer of all time? I studied your writing style the way art students studythe Impressionists? Hey, I’m divorced too?
    I mean, what could anyone possibly say to Danny Masters that he hadn’t already heard?
    “Something really stupid about him smoking,” I replied, mentally kicking myself. Come to think ofit, pretty much everything I said warranted a mental ass-kicking with a steel shoe.
    “That’s it?” asked Georgie.
    “Some guy came over and monopolized the conversation, so I left.”
    Georgie’s mouth dropped open. “Are you   crazy ?” he practically shouted.
    “Clearly I had nothing of value to say.” Another lie. I wanted to tell him   everything   at thatmoment, wanted to tell him my whole life story and ask him about his, wanted to share my deepestsecrets. But every time I opened my mouth, it all went into hiding. I had grown up having never been at aloss for words. Not until Teddy humiliated me and I’d lost the ability to speak up for myself. Even mywriting had become stunted since then, for I had become an unreliable narrator. Having gotten marriedwith the wool pulled over my eyes, and having spent the last ten years of my life shut away in astockroom, how could I trust that what I’d seen and felt at that moment with Danny was real?
    Besides, if I told Georgie that Danny Masters had asked me for my name and I’d not given it to him

    because of a momentary spaz-out, he very well might have disowned me.
    “Um, hel-lo? Your name? Marital status? Phone number? E-mail address?”
    “Then he would’ve thought I was some creepy stalker fan. Look, I was nothing more than a passerby during a smoke break, that’s all,” I said, rationalizing this for me more than for my friends. “I’m sure that if he had to describe me to a sketch artist, he’d have no clue.”
    “Given the way you look?” said Georgie. “I highly doubt it.”
    “I’m siding with Georgie on this one,” said Theo. “You look so smokin’ right now. There’s no way any guy wouldn’t