I don’t know if bad luck follows me, I make my own, or that god just knows I have a great sense of humor. Earlier this month, on a book-signing/convention trip to Vegas my journey began with marijuana and ended with marijuana.
Some readers might be saying, “Oh Suzie, what did you do?”
Seriously, I did nothing. This crap just makes for great blog posts!
I stayed in a room at the end of a long hallway. Directly across from me, the occupants of room 1599, smoked MJ the entire time I was there. We were the only two rooms at the end of the hall, and within twenty feet of approaching my door, you could smell it. Luckily, inside my room there was no odor.
It’s hard to stop being a detective and for five days I tried to get a look at my neighbors but never did. The smell was strongest when I came back to my room late at night and I think if I stood outside my room for any length of time, I would have received a second-hand induced high.
I didn’t, I swear!
After I returned from my trip, a friend asked why I didn’t notify people that I was signing books in Vegas. I’ll tell you a secret… I was petrified. It’s very difficult having an a.k.a., much less two and signing those names on books. It’s problematic enough when a reader asks to send their book to my house so I can sign and mail back. I’ve replaced several books, after giving them bad signatures, with my own copies. I now have a stack of unusable books in my closet.
At the signing event, I displayed paperbacks of Bad Luck Cadet & Officer alongside my romantic vampire fiction series, written under D’Elen McClain. My pink handcuffs sat between the two stacks and drew a lot of attention. When someone commented, I picked them up and said, “These pink handcuffs have arrested more child molesters and wife beaters than any pink handcuffs in the state of Arizona.”
True statement and I challenge anyone to prove me wrong.
So, at a predominately romance reader book signing, I sold lots of “Bad Luck” books. I’m happy to report that I managed to sign both my pen names without incident.
My closest partner/table mate at the signing was Wendy (W.L. Sexton). We actually met in the coffee shop that morning, started a conversation, and were friends before we walked out. As luck would have it, we were assigned side-by-side seats out of two hundred authors in attendance. Fate!
A few sales people approached and gave their, “Author, I can do this and this and this for you,” speech. Some were interesting and some not so much. One thirtyish dark haired woman, made my ivy sense kick into overdrive. I knew her and it wasn’t in a good way. She stopped giving her spiel to Wendy, turned to me and said, “I know you from somewhere.”
It clicked. I did know her and remembered arresting years ago.
“I recognize you too, I’m a police detective from Small Town, Arizona.”
Her sales pitch flew out the window and she left before Wendy or I could blink. I explained to Wendy that this was the reason my husband never argues when I take my gun everywhere. I was gunless at the signing and felt completely naked.
I woke up at 5am my final morning and decided to enjoy some quiet time, look through email, and drink some coffee at the outdoor café. Within five minutes of sitting down, a 65ish, older man joined me.
“How are you this morning?” he asked.
I’m 52, hadn’t bothered with makeup, and wore Diamondback’s Baseball flannel pajama bottoms and a really large black t-shirt.
This guy was obviously desperate to pick up a woman or considered me desperate enough to have him.
He told me all about his product. It actually cured dementia and Alzheimer’s, opened your mind to endless possibilities, and would help me lose weight.
This great wonderful product goes by the name… you got it, marijuana. If I smoked it only once a month, my entire universe would be cured of all the ills affecting me.
I gave him the look, smiled, and said, “I’m a cop!”
If you’re wondering if he got away with it don’t worry. Just for the “weight” comment alone, I promise his body will never be found.
I’ll be back in Vegas next July and I’ll give everyone plenty of notice in case you’d like to tag along for some bad luck.