Leaning forward in his chair, Cyril looked at his daughter. His bald head reflected the flickering

florescent bulb above him. Brown eyes looking at her as intensely as he could. "Well?"

Catherine smiled, clutching the manuscript to her chest. "This is the most wonderful romance novel

ever!"

Cyril sighed, sitting back and playing with the ends of the little brown hair he had left. A nervous habit

he had picked up when married to his first and only wife, Evelyn. The British man was a bit goofy

looking with his bald head, hawkish nose, and big almost buggish eyes. Yet it was a cute sort of goofy.

His white suit was a bit thread bare and ten years out of fashion.

Catherine, his daughter, had been born and raised right here in California. Though she was not your

stereotypical Californian native. Barely topping 5 feet, three inches, she tipped the scales at 260

pounds. However her round face was cute, fey like. Her short blond hair was an unruly sort of curly

and barely held out of her green eyes with a black headband. She was dressed much more casual in

faded black jeans and a purple t-shirt. She pulled the manuscript away from her vast chest and put it on

her father's desk.

"I agree." Cyril said. "Only one problem...." He tapped the title page with his finger, pointing to the

name of the author. One Martin Richards. "Who's going to buy a romance novel written by a man?"

As much as Catherine hated to admit it, her father was right. Romance novels were suppose to be

written by matronly women who wore lurid pink robes trimmed in fluffy feathers. Not by men.

Especially not the type that sat in the other room. However their small little publishing company needed

this book. They were losing money every day and if they didn't watch it they'd lose it.

That was why Catherine smiled a sly smile, leaning forward. "Who says that anyone needs to know the

writer is a man?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hollywood had lost a gold mine when Martin Richards chose to be a writer rather then an actor. He

was a very good looking man. All American boy next door with dark hair and eyes. He was well

muscled but not too much so. His age was somewhere between late twenties and mid-thirties. Dressed

in blue jeans so new they were stiff and a blue button down shirt. He fidgeted nervously with the cuffs

of his shirt.

"We want to publish your book." Catherine said. The overweight woman stood behind her father's

desk, bouncing on the balls of her feet with barely suppressed excitement.

Martin jerked in surprise. Normally by now was when he heard that no one was going to buy a male

romance novel writer. "What's the catch."

Cyril bit his bottom lip before he took up the next part. "Well, as you know, you're a - a man and most

people who read romance novels are women who expect them to be written by - women."

Inwardly, Martin felt himself curl up. Byrd & Byrd Publishing had been his absolute last hope. It looked

like it was back to writing sports articles for him.

"Which is why we're wondering if you'd be willing to publish under a pseudonym." Catherine said,

watching as Martin's head jerked in her direction. God, he was cute. "Obviously a woman's name. We

were thinking - Georgina Sands."

"Well," Martin began, other companies had talked about pseudonyms but negotiations had broken

down when it came to the name itself. "That's better then Betty Jane Marilyn." He paused for a bit.

"What do we do if people want to know what she looks like?"

"We'll find someone you approve of to pretend to be Georgina." The answer came easily to Catherine.

"Someone from inside the company."

"And they'll do the book signings too." Martin said. "Which means I probably should work with them."

Catherine nodded. "You read my mind. So it has to be someone smart who can memorize answers but

also make up their own if thrown for a loop. We can say you're the agent slash proof reader slash

bodyguard. Our company is small enough that people will believe it. Lots of people here do two or

three jobs."

Martin smiled, growing excited because Catherine was so into this. Somehow her enthusiasm was

catching. He eyed her with a writer's eye. She'd never be a major character, not with that weight, but

she was cute - probably could be very pretty if she'd just diet and exercise. Not his type even still, she

was too short and he preferred dark haired women. He did like her nose though. It was a cute little

button type nose, just turned up enough to give her an air of mischief without being up so far it looked

like a pig snout. Her ears were pierced but the black metal rings she wore in them were so small one

would probably never notice. She would make a good supporting character in one of his books. The

best friend who helped the broken hearted heroine.

"Do we have a deal?" Cyril asked, interrupting Martin's thoughts. His accent wasn't what an American

expected. More grating then charming. Yet it fit with his lovable goofball image. Those buggy brown

eyes had grown large, like a begging puppy dog.

"Only if we find an appropriate Georgina." Martin declared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mandy?" Cyril asked, looking at the list in front of him.

"She's a moron." Catherine said. "You only hired her because of her big fake breasts, dad."

Cyril blushed and looked to Martin for an answer.

"I have to go with Cathy." The writer replied. "I'm surprised she can even find her way to the

restroom."

"Don't call me Cathy, and she can't. Gets lost at least twice a day." Catherine replied.

For the past three hours they had been interviewing every female that worked for Byrd & Byrd. Three

were too old, one was way too thin, one was really a man, and the last one whom they were talking

about was a complete idiot.

"Well, that's it." Catherine sighed. "Not one you approve of. We've lost the contract."

"Hold on a minute." Cyril objected. "There's still you, Cat-bird."

"Oh please, dad." She objected. "He doesn't want me."

Martin looked between them, feeling a stab of jealousy as Cyril looked at his daughter with such love in

his eyes. "I don't see why not. Physically you fit what everyone thinks a romance novelist should look

like and you're certainly smart enough. Plus you'll be proof reading all my manuscripts so you'll be able

to answer any questions." He smiled a charming half grin, only the left side of his mouth curving up.

"You'd be perfect, Cat-bird."

"I'll call your uncle Cecil." Cyril said, standing. "Get those contracts drawn up."

Left alone together, Catherine shook her head. "Why do you write romance novels anyway? Just

wondering. It's not often a man writes about love like that."

Martin looked away from her as he spoke, shrugging his shoulders. "My dad left when I was really

little. I don't remember much beyond him yelling at mom, telling her he hated her, hated me. Mom read

a lot of romance novels. Gave up dating so she could raise me, so the books became her dates. She

taught me how to read from those books, never skipping over anything. Then some guy she turned

down shot her in the back, very high." He thought about his mom now. Her long dark hair growing thin.

The way she looked as he checked her for bed sores. "I was in high school by this time. When CPS

wasn't trying to take me away I read to her. She died a few years ago. I write them because of her. But

I've supported myself as a sports writer."

"Are you gay?" The question was blunt, but not meant to be insulting. Just an honest question looking

for an honest answer.

He laughed. "No. I like women - love them. Nothing better then feeling a woman beneath you. Running

fingers through her long, dark, straight hair. Running my hands over her breasts, down her stomach...."

Smiling that half smile again, he looked at her. "No, not gay. What about you?"

"No." Catherine said, blushing and looking away. "Me neither." She wasn't about to admit though she

had no experience outside of books.

"So why Georgina Sands?"

Catherine chuckled, looking back at him. "Tribute to dad's favorite writer. I don't know much about

her except she was a woman who wrote back when only men were allowed to publish serious books

like her's. So she took the name George Sands."

"You love your dad a lot, don't you?"

"Yes. We've always been close, more so since he and mother divorced. She didn't want me. Said I

was too fat to help her get lovers. That no man wanted a woman with a pig for a kid."

While Martin agreed that Catherine seriously needed to lose weight, he was shocked a mother could

say something so unfeeling. However, when he thought about his own father who wanted nothing to do

with him, even now, he found it a little less shocking. Reaching to his pocket, he took out a pack of

cigarettes.

"Oh please don't." Catherine objected, grabbing the pack out of his hand and tossing it into a

wastebasket. "I'm sorry but I can't sit here while you commit both suicide and murder. I know," she

held up a hand, "my weight is suicide too. However there's no such thing as death by second hand fat

cells. Besides, smoking causes impotence. The same soft tissues that are in the lungs are in the penis

and the tar in those collects there, restricting the blood flow, making it harder to get an erection. If you

keep that up you'll have to take Viagra, then you'll have something in common with Bob Dole. You

don't want that, do you?"

This was delivered with such speed and such a charming, child like smile, that Martin couldn't yell at

her. Though he did plan on buying another pack as soon as he left. He could wait, however, until he

wasn't around her.

"So, your uncle is your company lawyer? Really is a family business."

Chuckling, Cat shook her head, making her curls quiver. "He's not really my uncle. Dad just calls him

that because I use to have a crush on him when I was a teenager. He's older then dad so dad started

calling him "uncle" Cecil to try and discourage my crush. Anyway he's the only other Englishman my

dad has contact with here in the states. He was a solicitor in London but came here and got his

American licence to do business law. It makes dad feel more comfortable to work with someone who

doesn't expect him to act like the American stereotype of a British man."

They sat for a bit in awkward silence.

"I hate awkward silences." Cat suddenly said. "Say something. Anything."

"Um." Martin dug around for something. "What's your favorite movie?"

"Dogma." The answer was quick and Cat gave a goofy smile.

Chuckling, Martin rolled his eyes. "Ah, a movie with Ben Affleck, I should've known."

"It's not Ben Affleck I like it for. For one thing Kevin Smith is an awesome writer and director. For

another thing it's another guy in that movie I find hot."

"Matt Damon?"

"Nope."

"Jason Lee?"

"Uh-uh."

"Um - what's his face, that blond that talks too much, Jason Mewes?"

"Not at all." Cat blushed and looked at the ceiling. "Alan Rickman."

"Alan Rickman? That old British guy?" Martin looked at her like she was crazy. "The one with the big

nose."

"He's got a manly nose. Older men are always better. And besides, he's super talented and has that

spin melting sexy voice." Cat got that look in her eyes that only a woman with a crush on an

unattainable actor can get. "The man is pure, raw sex appeal."

"Well, I prefer Salma Hyeck as the muse, myself."

"Eh, I wouldn't throw her out of bed either, truthfully. She is hot even though I do prefer men. But Alan

Rickman can appear in my bedroom any place, any time."

"Ever see Die Hard? He rocked as Hans Gruber."

"Oh I love Die Hard! When he asks McClaine's wife if she wants anything else I keep thinking she

should say, "Yes, kiss me you stud!" Hey, have you ever seen Galaxy Quest?"

"Oh yeah! Where he plays the disgruntled actor." Martin began to warm up to their conversation. Soon

they were talking about various movies, particularly ones by writer/director Kevin Smith. Quoting lines

back and forth.

"You know what I love though? When Ben Affleck and Matt Damon have scenes together." Cat was

saying. "And they just talk like normal people talk. It's cool. Most movies don't have that quality. It

makes you feel like you're right there with them."

"Oh yeah, I know what you mean. I love scenes like that. More movies should have scenes that just are

like normal conversations, like you and I are having right now. Nothing that really furthers the plot but

helps you feel like you're part of the movie yourself."

"Exactly." Cat smiled, she really had a charming smile. Straight, even teeth. A little cupid's bow mouth.

It was a movie star smile. The kind you'd find in cute romantic comedies. "Let me guess what you're

thinking - Hm - I know, "she'd make a great supporting character in a novel." Right?"

Martin was startled. While he hadn't thought that right then, he had thought it earlier. "How'd you

know?"

"Cause, all the writers I meet think that." Cat shrugged. "Ever read The Blood Letting?"

"Ug. That is the worse vampire novel in the world since The Hunger." Martin made a face.

"I know. Anyway remember the best friend. Fat blond girl who ends up throwing herself into the arms

of the main vampire so the main character has a chance to escape? Three guesses who that was based

on and the first two don't count."

"Oh God." Laughing, Martin shook his head. "I knew somehow you were familiar. Except you don't

have a big wart on your forehead."

"No. I pissed the writer off. So he added the wart." Chuckling, she sat back in her chair. "I've actually

been the inspiration behind a lot of supporting characters. I meet a lot of writers at parties and such.

And they all say the same thing - I'm the perfect best friend character. Sort of my version of always the

bride's maid, never the bride. So," suddenly she changed the subject, "you want kids someday?"

The change of subject threw him for a loop. After fumbling for a second, he said, "Yeah, yeah,

someday, when I find the right woman to have them with."

"Ever think of adopting?"

"Nah - I just don't think I could love a kid completely that wasn't biologically mine. I don't know how

anyone can, really."

Cat's mouth became a thin line. "Well, dad seems to have no problem loving me."

"Oh shit." Martin flinched. "Let me guess, you're adopted." When she nodded he cringed. "Shit, I'm

sorry."

"No, I am. I trapped you into that one." Cat looked abashed. "I tend to do that cause people often ask

why I look nothing like my parents. Course you haven't met mother and God forbid you ever should.

She'll try to get you into bed and steal your cigarettes."

"Sounds like there's no love lost between you two. Is she your biological mother?"

"No. My biological parents are dead." Cat shrugged. "Car accident. Mother didn't want to ruin her

figure with a baby so she used her money to adopt me but it's dad who loved me."

"Are you always so revealing about yourself?"

"I've got secrets I'm not telling you about, but you'll find these things out when you meet the head of

our accounts. Oliver's a huge gossip. I tend to try to take the wind out his sails by telling all this stuff

first."

The grin Cat gave him made Martin laugh again. "Makes perfect sense."

Outside the office Cyril who had only left to put the two young people alone, listened. He had been off

the phone for the past half hour. Talking to Cecil had only took five minutes, tops. Grinning to himself as

he heard his daughter laughing as Martin made a joke, he finally turned the knob and entered.

"Cecil will be by tomorrow with the first draft of the contract." Cyril announced, outwardly smiling,

inwardly frowning as the mention of the older man's name made his daughter's eyes dance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oliver was by and far the most interesting man Martin had ever met. The oddest too. A rich black man

- and he preferred being called black to African-American for her felt the latter suggested he wasn't a

true American - Oliver made no bones about the fact his family made their money in the slave trade.

"Why should I be ashamed of what my ancestors did? And anyway it's not like it's anything new.

Everyone's got some slave blood in them, even you my pasty friend. White Americans didn't invent

slavery and they weren't the cruelest of owners either."

Handsome with a squarish face and skin so dark it looked like light couldn't escape it, Oliver was also

a surprise in the fact that he was able to recite from memory any book he ever read twice. He was a

Methodist who had spent a few years after college helping people escape Iraq. He knew first hand that

what the American soldiers did to prisoners was nothing compared to what Saddam did to his own

people. As such he was completely in support of the war and called infamous director Michael Moore

"Michael Moron." Probably the biggest shock though was that Oliver was a gay republican.

"I thought you people were just a myth." Martin said, once again sticking his foot firmly in his mouth.

"Uh-huh, Cat told me about your faux pax with the adoption thing." Oliver gave Martin a critical look

with the most intense brown eyes Martin had ever seen. Then smiled. "Honey, there's more of us then

you could ever begin to know about."

Oliver was also very much a gossip just like Cat had warned Martin. Before the young writer knew it

he knew everything he didn't want to know about the people he'd be working with. Including the

results of Cyril's last prostate exam. And yet Martin felt that there was some information about Cat that

Oliver wasn't talking about.

"Oliver!" Cat said as she entered the conference room where both men had been sitting, waiting for the

first draft of the contract. "Stop talking Martin's ear off. I told you he was a big gossip."

Cat looked like someone who had taken an extra step with her appearance today. Her hair a little less

of a disarray, her black jeans so new they were still a little stiff. The shirt she wore was a pretty purple

silk that brought out the green in her eyes and the roses in her cheeks, it also had ruffles along the

neckline and the cuffs of the sleeves. Makeup had been carefully applied and while yesterday she had

smelled clean, like good old soap and water, today she smelled not only clean but with a light floral

scent that Martin found surprisingly arousing. She even wore jewelry. Nothing too expensive but it

brought attention to her hands which, while the nails remained real and unpainted, were still carefully

manicured. Martin even noticed that her breasts seemed higher today. Like if she was wearing a new

bra. It brought to his attention how big they were and for the first time he couldn't look her in the eye.

Here were breasts that could rival many of the bustier starlets, only these were real. It was only until

Oliver kicked him that Martin was able to look away.

"You look...." Martin was about to say good when the door opened and Cyril entered.

The man who followed Cyril must've been Cecil. He was tall, close to if not over 6 feet tall. His light

brown hair was graying, but still thick and full. He was oddly handsome with a large roman nose and his

smile was devilishly charming. His handshake was firm and his brown eyes expressive. When he spoke

it was with a deep voice with a British accent that even Martin had to admit was sexy.

When Cecil turned to Catherine, Martin was shocked to see the older man look down at her with pure,

undisguised lust in his eyes. Cat didn't seem to notice as Cecil's eyes raked her from head to toe as if

he'd like to lay her down on the table and take her right then and there. However as he kissed her

cheek, she was blushing.

"Catherine," Cecil said, playing with one of her curls in a nonchalant manner before placing his hands on

her shoulders in such a manner that his arms brushed just the tops of her breasts. "You get more

beautiful each time I see you." Now his hands ran down her arms, his own arms brushing against the

sides of her breasts.

"Nonsense, Cecil. As fat as I am?" She rolled her eyes, though her blush deepened.

"Mmm, I've always preferred my women with plenty of meat on their bones." Cecil said, not removing

his hands from her.

Cyril was shifting with obvious discomfort, not wanting to insult his oldest and dearest friend, but not

liking the way Cecil had taken to touching Catherine ever since she had come of age and the man had

noticed she was a woman. "Cecil, that contract?"

"Ah, yes." Cecil said, grabbing up his briefcase and putting it on the table. "Let's get down to business -

before the pleasure." His eyes looked back to Catherine who blushed and looked down, obviously

flustered.

Martin studied Cecil through out. Deciding two things. One was that he didn't like Cecil one bit. The

other that Cecil would make the perfect bad guy in his next book. Nothing like a seductive older rake

to set the hero's teeth on edge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later on in his life Martin would look back on the next few months as the ones that changed his life for

the better. His first book was an instant best seller. Even men were buying it. Unusual for a romance

novel. He quit his job at the newspaper, thankful to not have to be forced to watch sports but able to sit

back and actually enjoy them. With the pressure off he did find himself liking sports rather then viewing

them as a chore.

More then that, he, Catherine, and Oliver all became inseparable. Having written enough novels over

the years of rejection that Martin could afford to take time on his next batch, he often found himself

spending his weekends going out with them. It meant occasional run ins with Cecil who still seemed

almost creepy when he was around Cat.

There were dates too. Oliver was really good at setting Martin up, but sooner or later the women

would get jealous - of Cat of all people. How they could think there was anything between them Martin

didn't know. She wasn't his type. Fat, blond, short, and into singers like Michael Crawford. Not at all

what he was looking for in a woman.

Which was why he couldn't explain why sometimes when Cecil was around Martin felt jealous.

It was six months since his first book had been published that Oliver called Martin and asked him to

meet privately. The next day Martin was due to go with Cat to their first book signing. He as her

pretend bodyguard, her as the fictional Georgina Sands. A few weeks ago Martin on a whim had asked

Oliver to proof read his latest book before giving it to Cat.

"We need to talk." Oliver did not look happy. The manuscript was in front of him. "What the fuck is

this?"

"My book."

"No. It's not a book - it's your fucking fantasy. You've become a Mary Sue." Oliver looked really

upset. "Only instead of making yourself fuck some comic book character, you're fucking Cat."

"What the hell are you talking about? Cat is not my type." Martin stared at Oliver as if he was crazy.

"Oh? So why does the hero who's physical appearance matches your's right down to the mole on your

right shoulder that looks like a bunny chase a girl who's appearance and personality is just like Cat's?

She even has a goofy father and the bad guy looks exactly like Cecil." Oliver leaned forward, his

brown eyes boring into Martin's. "You wrote about Cat, damn it. And I know Cecil can be creepy but

he's not evil."

"Oh come on! That guy is always trying to cop a feel on Cat!" Sudden jealousy tinted Martin's voice.

"And he's older the Cyril!"

Narrowing his eyes, Oliver snapped. "Now let me tell you something about Cecil. He had a terrible

marriage. As bad as Cyril's if not worse. You wouldn't find a more caring man though. When Cat was

16 one of her mother's boyfriends got drunk and got rough with Cat. When she came back with her

bra ripped and blouse buttons missing Cecil went over there and beat the shit out of the man. When a

bunch of Klan fags beat me up, Cecil bandaged my wounds and hired a PI who hunted them all down

and got them thrown in jail. Yes, the way he acts around Cat creeps even me out, but the man's been

like that since Cat turned 18 and he saw as a woman for the first time. He's never pressed her to do

anything. Always held himself back even though he knows one word from him and Cat would do

anything he asked."

Martin sat there, unable to speak. It was hard for him to admit he was wrong and the news about Cat

disturbed him. Sometimes he forgot she wasn't just a spoiled rich girl. That she actually had a hard life

here and there. Maybe not as hard as him, but she didn't have a soft life either.

"Just tell me, are you really in love with her or do you just want to fuck her?" Oliver asked, sitting back,

his eyes softening a bit.

"I'm not in love with her!"

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much." There was a pause, an awkward silence. Then, "I loved

what you wrote about me though. Even if you did forget to mention my massive cock."

Martin choked and began to laugh. Shaking his head and smiling his half smile. "I won't admit to being

in love with her. But I have to admit I do find her interesting. She's got this infectious laugh and always

makes me feel better when I'm blue. I can tell her anything and she's not shocked or upset. The fact

she won't let me smoke around her pisses me off. You know what I don't get? How come she's so fat.

She goes to the gym. Isn't afraid of physical activity, and I've never seen her over eat."

Serious looking, Oliver sighed. "When you meet her mother you'll understand."

"She really is that bad, huh?"

"The woman only adopted Catherine because it was the only way to join a very exclusive country club.

They only took women who were mothers and it was either adopt Cat or lose her figure to pregnancy."

Oliver practically growled. "And the shit she pulled on Cyril - still does. The worse part is he's still in

love with her."

"That just fucking sucks." Martin reached for his cigarettes before remembering California had passed a

law preventing smoking even in bars. "I need a smoke."

"Dude, you need to quit." Oliver said even as Martin got up to go outside.

"When hell freezes over."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I look like a giant piece of bubble gum." Cat grumbled, blowing pink feathers out of her face. "God, I

hate dressing like a stereotype."

Martin wasn't able to stop chuckling. Cyril had picked out the outfit right down to the lurid red lipstick

Cat was wearing. It was big pink dress trimmed with pink fluffy feathers and topped with a big pink hat.

Even the sandals she wore were trimmed in pink feathers.

"All those feathers must - tickle!" Martin grabbed her ribs, tickling Cat viciously. He had found out she

was extremely ticklish and she collapsed against him, laughing helplessly, unable to even struggle.

"If you really want her to laugh, you should tickle her feet." The voice belonged to Cecil. There was a

different light in his eyes. Not just lust, but a jealous look as well.

Stopping the tickling, Martin pushed Cat away a bit. Though he kept his hand on her shoulder. "Cecil.

What brings you here?"

"To make sure there's no trouble." Cecil replied, walking over and planting a kiss on Cat's cheek, his

hand resting on her other shoulder as he looked over her head at Martin. "Cat's mother called this

morning."

"Oh God." Cat groaned. The mention of her mother did nothing to help her nerves. And the way the

men were glaring at each other - what the hell was their problem? Yet, Cat had to admit she enjoyed

the attention. Whenever Martin touched her anymore she felt a thrill. Not very intense, but like a low

dose of electricity flowing through her. Whenever Cecil touched her, however, she felt like she was on

fire and yet safe at the same time. Cecil had always been there when no one else could be. She had

grown to see him as her knight in shining armor. Though he was nearly twice her age she found him

incredibly attractive. More then once she had very impure thoughts in his presence. Though she

wouldn't turn down a kiss from Martin, she admitted to herself. Suddenly she pulled away from them

both. "Enough. I have to get out there and pretend to be the one writing Martin's books. I don't need

to think of that witch right now. What I need is - chocolate. Lots of chocolate. Yes, chocolate."

There was a suddenly rambling from Cat, her movements fidgety. Martin stood there, unsure what to

do. Cecil, however, put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

"No you do not need chocolate. For once I'm not going to let that bloody bitch drive you to eating

yourself sick." He did not look away, not even when he felt Martin's heated, jealous glare. "You are a

stronger, better person then she'll ever be. Now go out there, pretend to be a female Martin, and

knock them dead."

Then, right there with Martin watching, Cecil pulled Cat to him and kissed her. Full on the lips. Martin

had a feeling it was a bit for show. It wasn't a long or deep kiss, but it wasn't an innocent kiss either.

There was a self satisfied smirk on Cecil's face when he pulled away. Without another word he nodded

once to Martin and walked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the first ten minutes the rage Martin felt reduced to a simmer of irritation. His mind was distracted

now with listening to his fans praise his books to Cat, whom they thought was Georgina Sands. It killed

him a bit inside to hear someone else getting credit for his hard work, but he knew it was a necessary

evil. People just didn't want to read romance novels written by men. Men were suppose to write

adventures, mysteries, horror, sex novels, but not romance. Not unless it was a movie like Love

Actually.

Cat was handling herself very well, even when she had to blow the feathers out of her mouth. Martin

felt proud of her. Preening a bit as she answered questions about his writing, his characters just like if

she was inside his head.

He looked out over the crowd. There was the expected overweight housewives, but there were others

as well. Several bone thin teenage girls without breasts and acne covered faces. A few fat teens as well.

A woman in a wheelchair - that one really got Martin choked up, though unlike his mother this woman

had use of her arms. There were a few men, very few. The majority of the crowd, however, were

women around 60 on up, most in perfect physical shape for their age.

"How do you write men so well?" One of those latter women was asking, jarring Martin out of his

thoughts.

"Oh, I just think of a woman, add a penis, and kill off a few million brain cells." Cat replied with a wink.

The crowd, including the men, chuckled. She was too charming to take offense at.

"Alright, folks," the book store manager, a major prick who had been bossing everyone around from

the start, including when they could use the bathroom, "Miss Sands will now break for lunch. She'll be

back in exactly one hour."

"I'm going to pop outside for a quick smoke." Martin said, ignoring the dirty look Cat gave him. It was

better then watching Cecil with her. Why had the lawyer stuck around anyway? The anger Martin had

felt earlier came back as he stepped out of the store and moved towards the large cement ashtray.

"Would you loan one to a woman down on her luck?" The question was asked by a rich and sultry

voice, owned by someone who looked anything but down on her luck. She was a tall woman on the

later side of her forties. Or maybe older. It was hard to tell for there were obvious signs of major plastic

surgery. The skin just a little too tight around the eyes. The mouth a touch too full from collengen.

Obviously she had botox injected into her forehead. The breasts were much too high and firm for a

woman her age and too large for her frame. Her long dark hair had a cast that suggested dye. She

smiled with a too bright smile, her teeth capped and bleached. It was a smile that tried to suggest

innocence and coy seductiveness at the same time, and failed miserably.

Martin offered the cigarette and lit her's before lighting his. Taking a deep drag and letting it out slowly.

Finding himself oddly repulsed by the woman and not just because of her plastic look. He tried not to

stare but she dressed much too young for her age. Wearing a tight white leather mini dress with a gold

chain that only brought attention to her almost mannish hips.

"I'm Evelyn." She pronounced it the American way, with a short E sound. "Evelyn Kendrick." She held

out a hand that was expertly manicured with long red nails.

Martin shook her hand, a bit startled. "Kendrick Publishing?" The publishing firm was one of the

biggest in America if not the world. It had been one of the first to reject him too. Mostly because Martin

didn't have an agent. "Um, pleasure, I think." He looked at her, unsure as she shook his hand, her

fingers stroking his palm in what was suppose to be a seductive manner. Yet he felt oddly repulsed.

"It could be." Evelyn purred, blowing a smoke ring. "So you're Georgina Sands agent, hm? Odd since

those books look a lot like manuscripts that had been rejected by my company and the name on them is

Martin Richards." She moved up closer, letting one of her huge fake breasts, rock hard, rub against his

biceps. "That's your name, isn't it?"

For the first time ever Martin found the taste of his cigarette horrid. His stomach roiled and quickly he

moved away from the woman, jabbing the cancer stick out violently.

"Hey Martin," Cat said, popping out of the door, then stopping, her eyes opening wide. "Mother."

"Cathy, darling." Evelyn cooed in a sickly sweet voice. "Have you gotten fatter? My, you just are as big

as a house. Of course it could just be this awful outfit. Pick it out yourself?"

Cat's mouth became thin, a fake, tight smile pasted on. "Martin, this is my mother, Evelyn." She

pronounced it the British way, with a long E.

"Evelyn," the woman in question corrected, her own voice growing tight and her eyes narrowing.

"Whatever, mother." Cat said, walking closer. "Anyway, Martin, you only have a half hour now if you

still want lunch."

"I'd be surprised if she's left you anything to eat." Evelyn said, glaring at her daughter. "Pink suits you,

Cathy. Makes you look just like the pig you are. So, how's the sex life?" The voice had become sharp,

cutting.

And Martin could see it was working. Cat wouldn't even meet her mother's eyes. Instead she looked

away. Feeling the need to defend her, he flung his arm around her shoulders. "Actually it's great. Cat's

a regular animal in bed. Completely wears me out. I can't keep up with her."

Evelyn looked shocked and disbelieving, then her eyes narrowed and she smiled slyly. "Oh? A total

animal in bed?" She looked to her shocked looking daughter. "About time, Cathy. And I suppose it

was your first time too, eh Martin?"

"Oh no," Martin said, completely clueless. "I've done it lots of times."

"So you make it a habit of deflowering virgins?" At Martin's shocked look the bitch chuckled. "I

thought so. Animal in bed indeed. The only thing my daughter does in bed is read, eat, and sleep."

"Better then being a complete and total whore like you, Evelyn." Cecil stepped up behind Cat's

adopted mother, also saying the name with the long E sound. "I see you've had yet another face lift.

Looks like the crane broke, Evelyn."

"EVELYN!" The brunette's cool composure completely broke around Cecil. "It's Evelyn you limey

bastard!"

Cecil just smiled icily. "But it's so much fun when you blow up at me, Evelyn." Savoring Evelyn's ire

for a moment, he smiled, then grew serious. "Get out of here, Evelyn. You've done Catherine enough

harm in her life."

"Legally she's my daughter, you perverted fucker." Evelyn hissed. "Even if she's as wide as a Humvee

she's my little girl and I'll say and do what I please with her."

"Does that include letting your drunken boyfriends try to rape her?" A snarl curled Cecil's lips, he

bared his teeth now like if he would like nothing better then to rip out Evelyn's throat with them.

Evelyn laughed. "Oh that again! Who the fuck would rape her? God, look at her, she's the ugliest thing

on the planet. She couldn't get a desperately horny blind man to fuck her."

"My God," Martin said, pushing Cat behind him, utterly shocked. "I thought when they said you were

evil that they were exaggerating. But they weren't, they were understating. If I didn't know better I'd

swear this was some poorly written short story published on the internet. You're so one dimensional

and almost cartoonish in your bitchiness. I honestly could say I have never met a bigger hag then you.

You must be awfully jealous of Catherine to treat her like this. And I can't blame you. Cat is everything

you're not. A natural beauty, charming, sweet, kind, loving - while you're nothing more then a two

dollar whore in an expensive and utterly too tight leather dress and last year's Pradas."

That remark earned Martin a smack across the face, what was left of Evelyn's cigarette giving him a

small burn as it struck his face. Snarling, the living incarnation of the Wicked Witch Of The West turned

on her heel and stalked off. As she did so Martin called out, "Bye, Evelyn!" Making sure to use the

British pronunciation.

"IT'S EVELYN YOU FAGGOT!" She shouted, spinning around and losing her footing, falling flat on

her plastic butt into a big puddle of used motor oil. Roaring, she flung herself to her feet and ran off.

Cat stood there, tears hanging in her eyes, her self esteem utterly shattered even though two handsome

men had come to her defense. Sniffling she said, "I'm hungry. Are you boys hungry? I'm utterly

starving. Chocolate would be nice. I think they have an ice cream store around here. God, I could eat a

whole gallon. Maybe two."

Both men grabbed an arm and took her back inside the shop before she could run off. Each throwing a

look over her head that said temporary truce.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rushing into the room, Cat flung her arms around Martin's neck and pulled him down, planting a big

kiss on his cheek. "You are a wonder!" She let him go, shaking papers in his face. "One year ago today

you walked into our company when we were on the verge of bankruptcy. Now for the first time ever

we're in the black! Granted, it's only by one single dollar but that was after spending fifty cents for a

black pen!"

Martin chuckled, wrapping an arm around Cat's middle so she wouldn't separate like she normally did.

Enjoying the feeling of her against him. He still hadn't told her how he felt, hoping that as the year past it

would fade. Especially since she never looked at him the way she looked at Cecil. He was glad she

didn't pull away instantly but hesitated a few seconds before finally separating.

"Well then," Martin said, "we should celebrate. Drinks tonight? You, Oliver and me?" He always

included Oliver when inviting Cat out. It made things safer, less date like. And Oliver was good at

reminding Martin that he had quit smoking. Plus in the past few months the fictional Georgina Sands had

gotten so popular that Oliver had taken over editing Martin's work. The very book that had cause

Martin to realize what he was starting to feel for Cat.

Cat, however looked pensive. "I - I can't. I have a date."

Martin tried to tell his heart to get back in his chest and out of his feet. "A - A date?" He tried to sound

casual. "With who?"

Now Cat was nervous, licking her lips. "With Cecil."

That was it. For the past 6, maybe 8 months Martin had been working up the courage to admit to

himself that he was in love with a woman nothing like his mother. He had tried dating other women.

Reminded himself that he and Cat worked together and being involved with her would be a disaster.

But the thought she was going out with that - that old man snapped the last little bit of his self control.

"Cecil! That - that old British freak?! How could you go out with someone who's got wrinkles older

then you?"

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Cat looked at Martin. Never once had she picked up on interest

from him. So why was he acting so jealous? "Cecil has always been there for me and I'm really happy

that he finally asked me out. I don't care about his age and it's not really your business anyway."

"He's a fucking pervert! He's always drooling all over you and trying to cop a feel! Now he's finally

trying to get you into his bed!"

"If I do sleep with Cecil that's none of your business either!" Cat shouted. "He's a wonderful man who

makes me feel really good about myself and doesn't give a damn that I'm fat! He treats me like a

queen, like I'm someone really special!"

"Only because that bastard wants to fuck you!" Martin reeled backwards as Cat slapped him, hard

enough that his lips smashed against his teeth and split open. "Oh, put all your weight behind that one,

didn't you?"

Cat's eyes grew wide and filled with tears as Martin made the unthinking, cutting weight remark.

Shoving him backwards, she fled the room. Martin sunk into the chair, putting his head in his hands.

"Oh God I'm a bastard."

"You can say that again, son." Cyril stood in the doorway. His normally goofy looking face deadly

serious. "You mind explaining to me why you made my little Cat-bird cry?"

Taking a deep breath, Martin sighed, staring at his hands which were clinging to each other.

"Somehow, Cyril, I fell in love with her."

"I know. Oliver showed me the book." Cyril entered the room, closing the door behind him. "It's what

I was hoping for. That you two would fall in love and she'd forget all about Cecil. Damn him, bloody

bastard. But I should've known what would happen. All the men who've been good to her, with the

exception of you and Oliver, have been English men. Maybe I never should've sent her to England to

go to university, made her go to a nice American one. And it doesn't help that his name is Cecil - Cecil,

Cyril, you see it, I see it, she doesn't." He sighed, pacing the room. "I can't deny the man's been good

about holding back and he's as protective of her as I am And he deserves happiness - his wife was

such a bitch she made Evelyn look like bloody Mother Teresa. But he's older then me and he's going

to date my little girl!"

"She's not a little girl though," Martin said suddenly. "She's twenty eight years old now, Cyril. Not the

lonely little orphan you adopted. She's a woman with her own mind, and if she chooses Cecil what right

do we have to stop her?"

The sagging of Cyril's shoulders showed that he agreed with Martin. "She does deserve happiness, real

happiness. Sometimes I forget she's not biologically mine. That she spent her formative years with a

couple of pot heads who went and got themselves killed while high. And the things Evelyn put her

through, still does. My ex-wife only cared about what Cat-bird could get her. I only cared about what I

could give Cat-bird. But so help me if he ever hurts her I'll kill him."

"I'll help."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cat, have you had a chance to read the book?" Martin asked for the tenth time, trying to ignore the

ring on her finger. The book in question was The Book. It had been out for a month and was on the

best seller list all over the world. Yet Cat had not actually read the book as far as Martin knew.

"No, Martin," She sighed. "Too busy planning the wedding. Cecil is insisting it happens before the

month is out. Rush rush rush. Ug! I swear I'm going to burn this outfit!" The latest one was a purple

velvet suit trimmed in plush purple fur. "I wish dad would stop dressing me like a cheap drag queen."

"How are you going to answer questions about it if you haven't read it?" Martin felt a flutter of panic.

"That's what you're here for. It's your baby. Just feed me the answers when I'm stumped." Cat

checked her purple lipstick. "God, I swear I'm going to reveal I'm not really Georgina Sands if dad

keeps this up."

"Cat, there's something you need to know about the characters in the book...." Martin began.

"It's time, Miss Sands," this bookstore manager was different from the one from their first signing

together. He looked a bit like the professional wrestler The Rock, but was polite and soft spoken.

Cat jumped up, not looking at Martin she headed for the door. "Don't worry, we'll get through it

together."

Martin just hoped that he and Oliver had changed the characters enough that no one would notice their

similarities. Even the cover art though looked a bit like them. Though the female was drawn thinner then

the character in the book, the man a bit more muscular, one could see the nose was like Cat's, the chin

was Martin's. He felt sick as he looked at the posters for the book all over.

Cat didn't seem to notice. Falling into character, she smiled at everyone and began to sign. The first

hour past no problem. Even though she hadn't read the book most of the questions were the same

people always asked. Martin felt relieved as the second hour passed with no incident. Just one more

hour to go before lunch.

"I see you're engaged." One gushing fan said, marveling over the ring on Cat's finger. "I'm so glad."

Looking to Martin she asked, "Did you finally figure it out when you read her book?"

"Figured what out?" Cat asked, looking confused.

Martin felt his stomach plop to his feet as the fan laughed as if she thought Cat was joking.

"Why, that you're in love with him of course." The fan smiled, motioning to the book. "I mean, it was

very obvious. Does he really have a mole shaped like a bunny? Why, Miss Sands, whatever is wrong?"

Cat was staring at the book, then looked to Martin, all the blood draining from his face.

"I'll tell you what's wrong." The voice was disgustingly familiar. Evelyn stood at the back, a smug smile

on her face. "That cow didn't write that book. He did." She pointed to Martin, her nail looking like a

bloody dagger. "My daughter couldn't write a grocery list. She's just been posing as Georgina Sands

so you wouldn't know that a man wrote those books."

The room fell deadly silent. No one wanted to believe. No one could believe. Martin looked at Cat,

afraid she'd run off to eat a box or two of chocolate. Instead he watched in shock as she threw her

head back and laughed, then stood.

"Alright, I admit it. I didn't write any of those books. He did." She motioned to Martin. "He wrote them

in tribute to his mother who loved him. Who gave up everything so she could raise him right. Unlike that

woman back there who is legally my mother but emotionally is more of a stranger to me then my

biological parents were. But who cares if a man wrote it? Some of the best love stories have been

written by men! Who here doesn't sigh when seeing Romeo and Juliette? Who didn't find Love

Actually a pure joy? What about Jersey Girl? All of those written by men!" Rubbing the lipstick from

her mouth, Cat continued, "Men can write romance that makes us swoon. And it's a horrible world

where we have to force people to live as stereotypes. As for him being in love with me," she looked at

Martin, swallowing, then she banished all emotion from her face. Becoming an actress as she looked

back at the crowd. "That's laughable. I'm not his type. I'm marrying another man. One I adore."

The crowd looked upset, disappointed. They so wanted it to be Cat - no, Georgina and Martin. One

could see their shoulders collectively droop.

As Cat turned and left the room, pushing Martin into the chair she abandoned, she looked back at her

mother. For once Evelyn was the one who couldn't meet her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting on the bench designated for smokers, Martin twisted and turned the pack in his hands. He had

bought it but so far had been unable to open it. He didn't look up as Cecil sat next to him. Though he

wanted to turn around and punch the arrogant bastard right in the mouth.

"Nothing to say, Martin?" Cecil broke the ice. His deep voice cutting through the air and making the

younger man cringe. "I tried to wait, tried to hold out when I saw the looks you were giving her, but

you never made your move and I couldn't wait any longer for you to come to your senses."

"So you came to your's instead." Martin sighed, crushing the pack and flinging it into the ashtray next to

him. "Damn you."

Cecil turned and studied Martin for a good minute before speaking again. "I had a very unhappy

marriage. Thank God there were no children involved. She cheated on me with anything that moved.

Men, women. She didn't care. Threw things at me. Called me names. Used my money like it was going

out of style. When I finally had the sense to get rid of her I felt so free. Then Cat turned 18 and she

wore this dress. Black, modest in length but with a neckline that plunged just enough to give me a

glimpse of the promise land. I thought at first I was rebounding. Looking for someone as unlike my ex

as I could find. Cat is young, sweet, and a virgin. I held myself back. I denied myself though I knew

from the way she looked at me that I could have her. Now I'm tired of denying myself, dating women

who end up lacking greatly when compared to Catherine. What time I have left I will have it be happy."

Martin looked up at Cecil, really looked at him for the first time. The signs of illness were there. The

lines deeper then before. The face a little paler, sweaty. As he watched Cecil took a bottle from his

jacket and shook out a pill, putting it under his tongue.

"You're dying then?"

"Don't be a bloody twit, Martin." Cecil rolled his eyes. "I'm an old man. The doctor says I have three

years tops. Five if I never have sex again. Forget that. If I'm going to die I'm going to die happy." He

sighed. "I want you to promise me something. Whatever happens between you and Cat afterwards,

always be her friend. Don't let her waste her life mourning for me."

"Only if you promise you'll let her say goodbye." Martin said softly.

Holding out his hand, Cecil said, "It's a deal."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the minister asked if there were any objections to the union, Martin had gotten up and walked

out. That was the last time he saw Cat before today. She was back from her honeymoon, positively

glowing. It killed Martin to know at the end of the day she'd be going back to Cecil. Kissing him.

Sleeping with him.

It killed him even more to know that inside her grew Cecil's baby.

Yet Martin steeled himself and he got through the day. She helped him get ready for the release of his

next book, this the first one under his own name. A historical romance about an orphaned girl who

ended up marrying her knight in shining armor. There was talks about turning the one before it, the one

where all the ugly truth came to a head, into a movie. Martin wasn't sure he could stand it.

One day at a time. At least he didn't have to see her every day. Just once or twice a week. Oliver

continued to set him up on dates but it didn't work out. None of them could hold a candle to Cat.

The movie deal fell through. Only because they wanted to cast Jennifer Lopez. There was no way

Martin was going to let that no talent hack ruin his story. Cat grew bigger with child and Martin found

himself finally able to put his hand on her belly, feeling the baby kick.

And when he got the call she was in labor, he was at the hospital before Cyril arrived.

Outside the nursery he watched as the nurse put Cecil and Cat's son into the bed. The nurse, mistaking

him for the father, brought him in despite his attempts to correct her. However the nurse was entirely

too chatty for him to get a word in edgewise and as the boy was placed in his arms, Martin was struck

dumb. The baby had Cecil's chin, possibly his nose, but he had Cat's eyes. Martin felt his heart swell

with love. Love for a child that wasn't his own flesh and blood.

The pain grew less over time. Though Martin still loved Cat, would do anything to be with her, he never

pressed the issue. He was just there for her. Supporting her when she was upset over something. Like

when Cecil-Cyril got his first baby cold. Or when she had a fight with her mother.

And when Cecil's heart finally called it quits.

"Though their marriage was short, barely two years," the minister intoned in a solemn voice, "one only

had to look at the way Cecil's eyes lit up to know that his love for Catherine was the kind of love

people write books about. She brought his final years great joy, love, and a son to carry on his name."

Martin stood behind her as she leaned against her father. Silently supporting her. As the others began to

file away from the grave he watched as Cat knelt down next to her husband's coffin, stroking the

wood.

"I need to get CC home," Cyril said, holding his grandson who had fallen asleep, too young to

comprehend what was going on. "Will you wait for Cat-bird?"

"Till the end of time, Cyril." Martin said softly.

Standing there behind Cat, not allowing himself to rush her, Martin Richards silently supported her in

her grief, and waited.

~~The End~~