THE MANIPULATOR (PART-4)

Then I walk over to the thermostat, the number causing

another shiver to wrack my body.

Sixty-two goddamn degrees.

I press my thumb into the up arrow and don’t stop until the

temperature is set to seventy-four. I don’t mind cooler

temperatures, but I’d prefer it if my nipples didn’t cut through

all of my clothing.

I turn back around and face a home that’s both old and new

—a home that’s housed my heart since I could remember, even

if my body left for a little while.

And then I smile, basking in the gothic glory of Parsons

Manor. It’s how my great-grandparents decorated the house,

and the taste has passed down through the generations. Nana

used to say that she liked it best when she was the brightest

thing in the room. Despite that, she still had old people’s taste.

I mean, really, why do those white throw pillows have a

border of lace around them and a weird, embroidered bouquet

of flowers in the middle? That’s not cute. That’s ugly.

I sigh.

“Well, Nana, I came back. Just like you wanted,” I whisper

to the dead air.

“Are you ready?” my personal assistant asks from beside

me. I glance over at Marietta, noting how she’s absently

holding out the mic to me, her attention ensnared on the

people still filtering into the small building. This local

bookstore wasn’t built for a large number of people, but

somehow, they’re making it work anyway.

Hordes of people are piling into the cramped space,

converging in a uniform line, and waiting for the signing to start. My eyes rove over the crowd, silently counting in my

head. I lose count after thirty.

“Yep,” I say. I grab the mic, and after catching everyone’s

attention, the murmurs fade to silence. Dozens of eyeballs bore

into me, creating a flush all the way to my cheeks. It makes

my skin crawl, but I love my readers, so I power through it.

“Before we start, I just wanted to take a quick second to

thank you all for coming. I appreciate each and every one of

you, and I’m incredibly excited to meet you all. Everyone

ready?!” I ask, forcing excitement into my tone.

It’s not that I’m not excited, I just tend to get incredibly

awkward during book signings. I’m not a natural when it

comes to social interactions. I’m the type to stare dead into

your face with a frozen smile after being asked a question

while my brain processes the fact that I didn’t even hear the

question. It’s usually because my heart is thumping too loud in

my ears.

I settle down in my chair and ready my sharpie. Marietta

runs off to handle other matters, shooting me a quick good

luck. She’s witnessed my mishaps with readers and has the

tendency to get secondhand embarrassment with me. Guess

it’s one of the downfalls of representing a social pariah.

Come back, Marietta. It’s so much more fun when I’m not

the only one getting embarrassed.

The first reader approaches me, my book The Wanderer, in

her hands with a beaming smile on her freckled face.

“Oh my god, it’s so awesome to meet you!” she exclaims,

nearly shoving the book in my face. Totally a me move.

I smile wide and gently take the book.

“It’s awesome to meet you, too,” I return. “And hey, Team

Freckles,” I tack on, waving my forefinger between her face

and mine. She gives a bit of an awkward laugh, her fingers

drifting over her cheeks. “What’s your name?” I rush out,

before we get stuck on a weird conversation about skin

conditions

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