I had never been so humiliated in my entire life. I never meant to hurt him, but I was just acting off of instinct. There a strange man in the house when I arrived to have my monthly romp with David, so I thought it was an intruder. Not only was it not a burglar, it happened to be the very writer who I've spent the better part of five years worshiping the very ground that he walked on. Yet there he was, sitting across from me and eating Sushi in David's place, still recovering from the blast that knocked him out hours ago. I still can't believe I did that to him, and he must still hate me for shocking him with my taser.
"I am so sorry," I said, as it was the first thing that popped into my head.
"You said that already," Josh reminded me, "And I believed you the first time."
"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, as my mind was blank. "Are you here to write?"
"My girlfriend works for Mr. Parsons," He reminded me, "I'm just her plus one because employee invited down here was asked to bring their significant other. To answer your other question, I have been getting some writing done this weekend."
"Really?" I said, sounding like an excited school girl, "What kind of story is it?"
"Oh no," Josh said as he reached out to his laptop and slapped it closed. "No one reads my work while I'm composing it. That tends to cause problems and chaos, so I prefer not to talk about it."
"I understand," I said, feeling a little disappointed inside. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay," Josh replied, "You didn't know. I bring enough doubts to the table, I just don't need anymore tossed onto the fire. It's nothing personal."
"Fair enough," I said, as I tried to relax. "I just can't believe we're eating sushi together. I've been reading your latest book and it's been amazing so far!"
"Thank you," Josh said, as I could see the glimmer of a grin. He was doing his best to hide his glee and take it with modesty. It made him look really cute in my eyes.
"So are we going to see a movie on that one too?" I asked him, aware that most fans knew he was negotiating the film rights with several studios.
"The quick answer is yes," Josh said, being less modest this time. "The only question is which studio will be producing it."
"Wow," I said, excited to getting the inside info, "This is all so exciting."
"It is," Josh confirmed, "But I'd rather be writing something new, and just move on."
"But why?" I asked him, "Can't you take a moment to savor the success your book is enjoying? You're in the spotlight, can't you just take it all in for a moment?"
"Not really," Josh confessed, "Because I'm a writer. Whenever I'm not writing, I'm always thinking about writing. There's only one goal, and that's the next book. We never take a break or go on vacation because we're always working. Even if I'm sitting in a chair and daydreaming, that is still the job for us. What dreams to one person is brainstorming plots idea and coming up with characters for the next story. For some of us that never ends."
"That's very interesting," I said, "I never really thought of it that way."
"Sometimes I feel something's building up inside me," Josh tried to explain, "And if I don't get it out and vent, then I fear that I might explode... metaphorically of course."
"Of course," I said with a laugh, more like a small pity chuckle. I had no idea that he took his craft so seriously, far more seriously than I've seen other people take their jobs. Those people just clock in, do their eight and go home. According to Josh writers never clock out, and are always thinking about what to write next. That sounds intense, and exhausting.
"I have a copy here with me," I reminded him, "Can you sign it for me?"
"Who should I sign it out to," Josh asked, "To the woman that tazed me?"
"Well, Meagan would be fine," I said, trying to forget our first encounter.
"Last thing I want to do is lose a fan," Josh said, taking another piece of salmon. "Of course I'll sign it for you. I hope you're enjoying it."
"I am!" I said, almost giggling like a school girl. "It's so good!"
"Thank you," Josh said, as if he had never heard that before. He seemed rather modest about his work despite there being thousands of great reviews already on every site online.
"What are you working on right now?" I asked him.
"What makes you think I am?" Josh said, slyly deflecting.
"You said it, always writing." I reminded him.
"Touche," Josh said, even smirking about it. "I'm working on something new, inspired by the lively events of last night."
"What happened last night?" I asked him.
"I'm sorry," Josh said, "Sometimes I forget that you just got here. It turns out this entire weekend isn't a couple's retreat but is in fact a secret job interview."
"That's odd," I said, thinking about it. "Dave brought everyone here to interview them?"
"He wanted to see how people naturally responded without knowing that a big job was on the line," Josh explained, "But the cat came out of the bag at the dinner table last night and that's when it all hit the fan."
"At the dinner table?" I repeated, "Oh that must have been exciting."
"More like confrontational," Josh continued, "Everyone here are alphas, and no one was willing to surrender an inch. People were being zinged and roasted right, left and center. It was a bloodbath to be honest."
"Metaphorically, of course." I added.
"Yes, of course." Josh agreed, "Dave was being a little underhanded and those in the running didn't appreciate it and let it be known in front of everyone. It was ugly, and I mean bowling shoe ugly."
"Ouch," I said, "You have to tell me everything."
"Alright," Josh said, as he waved around an empty glass. "But I need a refill first."