The Fan Letter (17 page)

Her mom became serious and got to what was really bothering her. “Les, between your job at the boutique and your writing, you don't have much free time. Dad and I are worried about you working so hard. If it weren't for Wayne, you probably wouldn't go out at all.”

Leslie shook her head and tried to explain. “But I don't feel like my writing is work. I enjoy it too much. And pretty soon it will start paying off…I hope,” she muttered under her breath. “When I'm not writing, I feel like I'm in a void. I have all these ideas in my head and nothing to do with them. It keeps my brain active.”

“You know we're proud of you no matter what becomes of your little books,” Bonnie smiled condescendingly, but added dryly, “Even though we don't understand how you can be so interested in that silly television show! We tried watching it once. Horrible thing! Why can't you write something more wholesome?”

The familiar buildings passing by were unseen as Leslie stared out the window of the car. “Mine are different. They'd make terrific episodes for the show. Mine are more human drama than science and technology.”

“What does Wayne think of all this?”

Leslie shrugged. “He seems to like the stories. And, in answer to your next question, I haven't seen him lately. He suddenly had to go to Los Angeles on business, I don't know, weeks ago. He didn't know when he'll be back.”

“He's such a nice boy,” Bonnie smiled. “He's so polite to us. Renee was asking about the two of you,” she told Leslie, glancing over at her. “She says she never sees you any more.”

“I still have the same phone number and address,” Leslie remarked dryly. “Mom, she's married now. They all are. I just don't fit in. If it weren't for Janice and Wayne, I wouldn't go anywhere,” she stated, inadvertently admitting the same thing her mother had pointed out.

As the car pulled into a parking space near their favorite department store, Bonnie turned to Leslie. “We really like Wayne, Leslie. He seems to like you. Has, umm, anything been said?”

The warning bell in Leslie's head went off too late. She should have noticed how many times Wayne's name had come up in the conversation already and been able to deflect what she should have known was coming. “There's nothing to declare, Mom. He's a good friend. That's all right now. Now that my book has sold, I don't know what's going to happen in the near future. I want to be open in case I have to go to New York or Los Angeles.”

Knowing when to drop it, Bonnie gathered her purse and keys. “I just don't want you to shut the door on a possibility.”

Leslie wasn't thinking of Wayne. She was picturing the cast of “The Time Police” and putting herself in-between Tom and Phillip. “Don't worry, Mom. I'm considering all the possibilities.”

“
D
izzy blond model,” Wayne muttered angrily for the hundredth time as he sat in his surveillance van across from Sarah and Phillip Beck's house. He had been ordered by Sarah to temporarily stop his watch on Leslie and find out what was going on at her house. All Wayne could piece together from her frantic, angry phone call was that some actress—she was sure it was Cindy Sanders from the show—slept over and Sarah wanted to know what was going on.

Wayne hadn't wanted to return to Los Angeles. He was becoming more comfortable with his life in Amherst and more familiar with Leslie. He spent a lot of time with her and would quietly sit and watch her when she worked on her novels. Immersed as she would get, she didn't even remember he was sitting there. He considered it a victory when he could get her away for the evening to go to dinner and a movie.

What he couldn't comprehend was his lack of progress on a personal nature. She still offered her cheek for a requested good-night kiss and an offer to stay the night resulted in a silent, red-faced shake of her head. He could tell she cared for him and enjoyed his company. But there was some barrier between them that prevented any intimacy.

Wayne found himself reviewing all their times together as he continued his boring watch of Phillip. He could not come up with anything that was said nor done that would explain her refusal to carry things to the next, normal level. He knew she had a passionate side because of her scenes between Jane and Jack or, lately, between Jane and Rex. Leslie had even asked him to try out a certain position to see if a scene would work before she wrote it down. Wayne had enjoyed holding her briefly like that and had received a mild admonition when he failed to let go soon enough upon request.

His occupation as a private investigator still bothered him. While hating to lie to both Leslie and Janice, he couldn't picture their reaction to hearing the truth. Finding he respected them, explanations would have to wait. Perhaps he could find work of another kind in Amherst.
Too bad
, he thought,
that I'm not good at anything else that's legal
.

Contacts of his had provided Wayne with all the details of Phillip's party and the guest list. He had known within the first three days what had happened and who had had to spend the night. He knew what they had to eat and drink and what music had played. He even found out which house Tom Young was going to buy on the beach.

Now he was just wasting time until Sarah was appeased. Phillip led one of the quietest lives of anyone he had ever watched—well, perhaps except for Leslie. At Marty's request he had provided the names of the women guests at the party and of the three who had been in no shape to drive home. The other names hadn't been wanted. Wayne knew Marty's angle and figured it would work on Sarah's jealous nature. Phillip didn't stand a chance with Marty around.

When Phillip finally drove off to the studio, Wayne gave a sigh of relief as he started the van and headed to his apartment. He hoped there would be a message from Sarah sending him back to Amherst.

“
B
eep…Wayne? This is Janice. Hi, how are you? We haven't heard from you in so long. I thought one of us ought to do something. I thought Leslie would, but she is so preoccupied.

“Her agent sent her five copies of her first book. We're all excited about it. It'll go on sale any day now. I'm sure she just forgot to tell you. She sent two copies to her actor, Phillip Beck. One was for the actor who plays Jack. She kept a copy, her folks got one, and she gave me the last one.

“Well, anyway, that's the latest around here. They keep asking about you at work. Hope you're all right. Give us a call or something. Bye.”

Wayne clicked off his answering machine. Hoping that Leslie would have called by now, it was Janice who had to tell him the good news. He could imagine how excited Leslie must be to finally have her book in her hands, but became hurt that she didn't save a copy for him. Instead she sent two to “her actor.”
Like Beck really cared
.
He probably won't even read it
, Wayne snorted.
He was probably still too overwhelmed with his own career. Ha! If Leslie only knew the truth about “her actor” she might be very surprised. He was just a too-bit
….

Wayne stopped his pacing and stood still. It just occurred to him that he was jealous of Phillip Beck. The actor had gotten two novels, probably another letter, and he had gotten nothing. He'd have bet anything that Beck sent Leslie another of his short, say-nothing letters that meant so much to her.

Wayne strode into his bedroom and angrily packed his suitcases again. He had had enough of Los Angeles and Sarah. He was going home to Amherst. Sarah could take a flying leap. And she could take Martin with her.

T
he Amherst Times

Book Reviews

THE LONER FINDS LOVE

by Leslie Nelson

“Local author Leslie Nelson's first literary attempt has been enthusiastically received by fans of the popular “The Time Police” television series.

Her writing style is simple and direct and has managed to combine the futuristic storyline with old-fashioned romance.

Early predictions indicate the novel is headed for the best-seller list.”

Leslie was handed the page out of the newspaper when she entered the boutique. Her boss Mona smiled at her. “Congratulations, Les. Your book seems to be a hit. I'm surprised you came to work today,” she kidded.

Leslie glanced at the review that had already been read. Her parents had already called about it. Pretending to yawn, she joked back, “Oh, that. What a bore. What else could the little people say? Bring me a grape. And peel it.” Leslie dramatically flung herself into a chair and closed her eyes.

Janice rolled hers. “Brother! Don't tell me we're going to have to put up with this from now on!”

Leslie looked up at her. “Where's my grape?”

“Where's your brain?”

“I don't need one. I'm famous,” Leslie sighed.

All the women laughed and threw their coats on top of her before they went out front to get to work.

Leslie dug out from under the pile and fixed her hair in the mirror. “How rude!” she sniffed and strolled over to the pressing machine.

“Seriously, Les, what do you hear from your agent?” Mona wanted to know. “Anything on the second book?”

Leslie started steam pressing some dresses that had just arrived. “Well, he said he liked it and already sent it on to the publisher. He didn't seem to think there would be any problem getting it into print. He does want me to come to New York this spring to meet him and the editors.”

“That's great!” Mona beamed.

“Tell her about Phillip,” Janice prompted.

Leslie shrugged. “It's nothing really. You know I sent him a copy of my book,” to which Mona nodded and waited for her to continue. “Well, he wrote back thanking me for it, and he also sent me a brochure to an up-coming convention. He didn't say so, but he is supposed to be there. I don't know,” Leslie said casually, keeping head down so they couldn't see the excitement in her eyes. “Maybe he wants to say hello or something.”

Janice looked at her unbelievingly. “What do you mean maybe? Why do you think he sent you the invitation?”

Leslie shook her head as she continued working on the dresses. “It wasn't an invitation, Jan. Just a brochure. All he said was that he didn't know if I had heard about the convention or not. That's all,” she stressed, managing to kill her own mood.

Janice wasn't convinced. “He's going to be there and he wanted to make sure you would be, too,” she stubbornly insisted, hands on her hips.
Sometimes Leslie could be so dense
!

“Well,“ Leslie said to end the conversation, “if he is there, and if we do meet, I hope he can tell me how to approach Majestic Studio with the idea for a script.”

I
t took Leslie and Janice two hours to get to the convention site in the Silicon Valley. It was a cold, clear day in February, and there was a long line of cars waiting to get into the Fairington Oaks Hotel's parking garage.

Janice had driven as Leslie was jittery and nervous and quiet. Janice knew Leslie had brought her copy of her novel for the cast to sign. She also knew how many different outfits Leslie had tried on before choosing her blue rayon dress that highlighted the blue of her eyes.

What they both didn't know was that Wayne had followed them in his own car dressed in a disguise of a wig and a fake beard and mustache. He had been hurt that Leslie hadn't invited him to go along. She had told him he would get bored since he didn't like the television show as much as they did. Janice was also disappointed in Leslie's decision as she had wanted him to drive, but Leslie had been firm. Put off, now Wayne wouldn't have missed the meeting of Leslie and Phillip for anything in the world.

When the women finally parked, Leslie again checked her reflection in the car's vanity mirror.

“Your clothes look fine, Les. Don't know why you didn't wear contacts, though. But lighten up. You look like you're going to cry,” Janice bluntly told her.

Leslie took a deep breath. “I'm so nervous,” she admitted. “I don't know what to say so I don't come off sounding like some tongue-tied teenybopper.”

“Just throw yourself into his arms and kiss him!” was Janice's suggestion as she started walking to the elevator.

“Very funny,” Leslie scoffed as she looked around. “With all these people I probably won't have time to say much of anything anyway. Just as well. I do better through letters.”

“You'll do fine. Wow, this place is great!”

Leslie glanced up at the ornate chandeliers, the glass and brass elevators, and the fern-enclosed grotto. “Close your mouth, Jan. We don't want to look like two geeks from the country who have never seen a grand hotel before.”

“We
are
two geeks from the….”

“We are not! Shh!” Leslie insisted as she led them to the back of a long line.

After they stood in line for about ten minutes and had advanced a few yards, Janice started in with her favorite game: “Did you bring Phillip Beck's letter with you?” and “Do you think there is enough room in the front of your novel for all the cast to sign?” and “What did your agent say about your personal appearances?” and “Do you think your book will be on sale here?”

After a few people had turned to look at the red-faced Leslie and the smiling Janice, Leslie hissed under her breath, “Knock it off! This isn't for me.”

Janice wasn't bothered in the least. “It will be. Some day.”

In an hour they reached the desk and paid their admittance. They received a hand stamp in indelible red ink that read “Enter” and would last longer than the two-day convention. They each grabbed up an information sheet, scanning for the guest star's appearances. The whole cast would field questions at eleven o'clock and sign autographs from noon until half past two. That gave the two women an hour to browse.

The room into which they were admitted was huge. It was lined with display booths filled with badges, fan magazines, uniforms, dolls of the cast, lapel pins, posters, postcards, copies of scripts, coffee mugs, blooper tapes, tapes of each episode, and anything and everything that could possibly carry “The Time Police” insignia. Leslie found her novel mixed in with all the other books for sale. There were other adventure shows produced by Majestic Studio that were also represented in the booths.