Dust Covers and Other Lovers

“Welcome to Between the Lines. I’ll be right with you.” Rina Roche slipped a book in place on the shelf, backed off the step stool and wiped her hands on her jeans. At the front of the used bookstore, a dark haired thirty-something man in a black hoodie stood at the counter.

“I need a mountain of magic, Cher. Can you help me out?”

She put her hands on her hips. “I know you, you Cajun devil man. You were a phantom antagonist in Nooni’s first flash story.”

 He scowled. “I was, but no one, including me, knows me. I don’t even have a name.”

“A molehill of magic would cover giving you a name. Why do you need a mountain?”

“To survive. In the flash fiction feature I failed to befuddle the clever protagonist. There wasn’t enough of me to impress a reader. I’m nothing but a good-looking filler guy under attack. I’m shallow. Not worth a drabble, never mind a flash or a short story. I don’t want to go down in the annals of Amazon as the hooded guy on the dust cover, but as of now, that’s all I have. It’s beyond depressing.”

“Nooni was a new writer when you manifested. She didn’t have you fully developed, much less worthy of an arc. She’s all about second chances, though, if her stories are any clue.” She perched on the stool behind the counter. “You know you’ll have to stay here until she writes you into another story. Character development is our most expensive service.”

“I’m not going anywhere else for a while. I’m only about an inch deep. I need the works - early trauma, emotionality, ego defenses, insight, catharsis.” He frowned. “How costly?”

“It depends on the currency. In money, $2000 a week. In work, it’s evenings and weekends for the duration of your stay. In expertise, it has to be organized, experiential, ongoing, and effective training for the other page dwellers. ”

“I don’t have any expertise, so I guess it’s work. When do I start?”

Rina shook her head. “Think it through, swamp boy.”

“I’m not a swamp boy. The swamp is another world. There’s a hot ceiling above and a swirling pool below. What’s in between captures every sense, muffles what lies beyond. It’s alive, magical, mysterious, dark, and real.”

“OK, not a swamp boy. Jazzman?”

“Can’t play a note of anything. The jazz clubs are a world of their own. The elite meet and greet in the better clubs. I like the sound of zydeco better. It’s an invitation.”

“Voodoo doer?”

“I have enough unmanageable magic in my life without it. I keep track of the voodoo haunts, though. I like to know what they’re up to.” He raised his brows. “Where are you going with this?”

“Going to your currency. Nooni loves to write New Orleans, spends hours researching it. She’ll approve of bringing you on as a worldbuilder. You will contextualize the stories, and inform the characters’ actions, antics, and arcs. Your interactions with them will be a proving ground for your emerging inner life. All Nooni has to do is cast the intention.”

“Wait. The author woman knows magic?”

“Not my story to tell. Are you in?”

He paced back and forth in front of the counter, raked his fingers through his already unruly dark hair, and headed for the door. Rina was on her way back to the shelves when the shop bells sounded. Good-looking no name guy was at the counter.

“I’m in.”

She pushed a button to lock the front door. “Follow me. It’s lunch time. You can meet the other characters. I’m pretty sure it’s pizza day. Are you hungry?”

“Starving, at so many levels.”

***

Rina led the newest guest to a large conference room and opened the door. “Hey, everyone. Do we have enough food for two more?” Everyone at the table looked up. “This is…” Rina looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s Phantag.” A demon stood and extended his hand. “Ka’pel, here. You’re the phantom antagonist.. Nooni loves you. She pushed and pulled until she dragged me out of you.”

“Phantag it is, then.” He shook Ka’pel’s hand. “Couldn’t have been much to pull.”

“Oh, there was plenty to work with. She pulled your psyche from the imagery – you know, black hoodie, materializing and dematerializing, tall, dark, and tatted…then she pushed me until I couldn’t not feel.”

“How did she push you?”

“By exploring the resistance. She said to quit worrying about what’s behind the wall. Learn everything you can about the wall itself.”

Phantag looked off, then to Rina, who resumed introductions. She pointed to the corner of the table. “These three derelicts are Rhett, Ethan, and Michael.”

Ethan gave a salute. “Rhett and I are inseparable, not in the best way. Nooni gave us similar stories – found father yada yada. There are a bunch of us who find our real fathers – in a bookstore, a guitar store, a leather store, a crystal store, a greenhouse. Rhett’s the first and favorite.”

Rhett scoffed. “If I was the favorite, she wouldn’t be trying to rework me for every other call and contest.”

“You’d better get some pizza while it’s still hot.” Michael passed Phantag a paper plate and napkin. “You should all count your blessings. She doesn’t even try to develop me. I’m all about raising my little brother. She said I was a human doing, not a human being. I’m pretty sure she’s sorry she conceived of me.” He pointed to the adolescent beside him. “Anyway, that’s my brother, Jack, and next to him is Shem. Shem was so well-developed, his two stories got published.”

Shem smiled. “It wasn’t all fun and games. I started as a foil. I didn’t develop until her editor gave me a sex drive.”

The only woman in the group laughed. “I guess art really does reflect life. I’m Emmie.”

“Phantag looked at Rina. “Only one woman?”

“Two. I started here for character development two years ago. I like running the bookstore. It gives me hope for a new plot. Nooni says she’s my referent, so I can’t take any risks she isn’t ready to take. Emmie is my derivative – or I should say upgrade.”

Emmie stood up. “I’d prefer to be neither. I know you all love Nooni, but she’s kind of left me in stasis here. I’m tired of the same dynamic. I’m tired of being good. I want to go off the rails once in a while.”

“You want too much.” Rina sat at the table. “You are the voice of reason –an empathic psychic therapist with telekinesis. You’re a fixer and a healer.”

Emmie shrugged. “You should try it.”

“I’m afraid running the show here is as close as I’ll ever get, speaking of which, Phantag is also here for character development. In exchange, he’s going to move us forward in worldbuilding. He’s the quintessential Cajun.”

“Makes sense.” Ethan raked a hand though his hair. “Most of us are never leaving New Orleans.”

“NOLA.”

Everyone looked at Phantag.

“Natives call it NOLA. If you were written as born here, you should too.”

Shem tapped the table twice. “Worldbuilding makes sense to me. I’d like to know where the shops are. If I’m in a crystal store across town, how did I get there? How far is the French Quarter from our home. Where do we park? I’m not sure how we got published without all of that.”

Rina laughed. “Word count limits glean a lot of forgiveness for lost details.”

Michael looked at Jack before he spoke. “That’s not the half of it. Our world has demons living below in a labyrinth of tunnels, with mirrors as portals to New Orleans and other dimensions. Ka’pel knows it better than all of us.

***

“Hey, boss, we really need you to make contact. Your characters are restless.” Rina called to leave a third message. She was surprised when Nooni picked up.

“Hey, Rina.”

“I was starting to worry about you. Where’d you go?”

“Writing courses, conferences, meetings with a coach. I’m caught up now, except for starting a journal. I can’t believe that the recommendation for a writer is simply to write ‘not a story.’ Why were you looking for me?”

“I brought a character in – the phantom antagonist from Mourning Shadows wandered in the shop looking for character development. He’s trading New Orleans worldbuilding for character development.”

“He has a lot to develop.” She paused. “I’ll be in tomorrow at noon. Order something better than pizza and I’ll meet with the whole group. Tell them to bring their questions and suggestions, and plan on being there for more than an hour.”

***

Nooni was at ‘Between the Lines’ by 10:30. She and Rina went over the month’s sales, current inventory, and the bills. “You did a good job, Rina. I know you’re working on yourself, too. If you are telling yourself the most excellent truth, do you want to be plotted again?”

Rina took a few moments. “Right now, I don’t. I’m more alive than I have ever been in a story. I like the books, the business, the public, and our clientele. I’m crushing on one of the guys. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Nah. Grist for the story mill. Does he know?”

Rina shrugged.

“Not to interrupt.” Emmie stepped into the office. “The food just got here, and the guys are setting it up. Phantag said to order Cajun Cuisine for an immersive experience.”

Nooni gave Rina a nod. “Excellent. Sounds like he is delivering. What are we doing for him?”

Rina shrugged. “I recognized him. Ka’pel gave him a name and a lot of affirmation. Everyone has been very welcoming, but he wants the rest – backstory, depth, emotion. He knows he’ll need your blessing for that.”

“OK, let’s do this.” She walked into the conference room, pleased to be seated at the head of the table again, apprehensive about taking responsibility for all of those she had created.

“I’m so glad to see you here, carrying on past the last page. I want to take the journey with you. You called to me, and I wrote you. Now I’m calling to you to tell me what you need – what we need.”

Emmie started. “I need a dark side. I’m tired of being good. The readers would probably welcome another dimension.”

Shem offered, “Balls.”

Michael huffed out a breath. “God, yes. I’m tired of crying.”

“We all are.” Ethan glared at her. “You write it for all of us at some point. Women read it over and over. They love that shit.”

“Not all of us. ” Ka’pel huffed out a breath. “I feel, but I don’t know what I feel. I wouldn’t mind teasing out a laugh, a cry, or a panic attack. I think there’s more to me than comic relief.”

Nooni nodded. “I think so, too Ka’pel. Honestly, I see it in you just below the surface, so much that I want you to have a story of your own. You have all of the elements of a heart wrenching backstory. You’re making me wonder why I can’t let go enough to let you let go.”

Emmie answered. “Because you’re emotionally safe if you hold him back. His emotions are big and complicated. You can’t just squeeze a tear and a sob out of him and give him a hug like you do with the humans.”

Nooni sighed. “I’m such an emotional dullard. I know the motions of emotions better than most. I was a therapist before I was a writer. I’ve always had a level emotional landscape.”

Jack rolled his chair next to hers and took her hand. “You might have a level emotional landscape, but you aren’t unemotional. You couldn’t have written an empath if you were that cerebral.”

Emmie nodded at Jack. “He’s right, Nooni, and you couldn’t be a therapist, much less write one. Anyone can figure out feelings, but to be responsive as a therapist, you have to process viscerally. It’s like a program running in the background.”

Rina shook her head. “Is that what we call the subconscious these days – a program running in the background?”

Nooni laughed, but her laughter quickly brought tears, then sobs, a deep sigh, and silence. When she looked up, her characters were simply waiting.

“I guess I couldn’t take you where I couldn’t go.”

Rhett chuckled. “Looks like you went there and took Phantag with you.”

Phantag stood in the corner of the room wiping his eyes.

Ethan snorted. “What, no hug?”

Rina went to Phantag and put her arms around him. He closed his eyes and sighed. When they pulled apart, Nooni stepped up to face him.

“Nikolai. Your name is Nikolai.”

A nod and a smile later, Nooni took her seat, opened her journal and started to write.“ Rina reached over Nooni’s shoulder and plucked the pen from her hand. “Are you going to share with the class?” 

“Gimme that.” Nooni tried to grab the pen back. 

Rina held it away from her. “Uh, uh, uh. Tell us what you wrote. ”

Ethan tapped the table. “Can’t take us there if you can’t go there yada yada.”

Rina reached for the journal. “Do you want me to make copies so we can read it for ourselves?” 

Nooni slammed the book closed. “Not happening.”

Rhett smiled. “Oh. good, because I’m not reading anything. I’m all literaried out.” Rina glared at him. He glared back. “I’ll wait for the movie.”

Nooni put her hands up. “OK, OK.” When the laughter died down, she stood and rested her eyes on each of them for a few seconds. “May I read it to you?”

Everyone at the table stopped eating. Emmie and Ka’pel sat on the club chairs that flanked the coffee bar. Nikolai leaned against the wall.  

Nooni opened the journal.

“It isn’t my interpretation of events that informs my characters. It’s my internal reaction - resonance, resistance, or passionate indifference. As I develop them, they develop me. I can’t just allow it. I have to invite them and then accept whatever the vibration in the core of my core creates.” 

She looked up. “That’s it.” 

Rina clapped, and the others joined in. Nooni took a small bow. “All this for a few sentences.”

“The movie will rake in millions.” Rhett stood to clear the table.

“Nuh-uh.” Ka’pel shook his head. “I don’t want some actor putting a picture of me in the minds of readers. I want the readers to do that.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Because Nooni wrote you so pretty?”

Nikolai shook his head. “You’d be surprised how little that means in the grand scheme of things.”

“Until you have a core of your core.”

“Whatever that...”

Nooni slipped from the room smiling. What a bunch of characters.