After a fretful hour going through the divorce papers with a fine-toothed comb, Todd gave up on looking for loopholes and instead turned his attention to wondering what the fucking fuck is happening to my fucking brain, which seemed to be a more pressing matter.

He’d seen Janis at that truck stop. He’d seen the bike, and he’d seen the woman give him the finger. Then there were Behm’s photographs. All right, there was something wrong with the damn pictures, but Behm had seen something, hadn’t he? Just like I saw something, thought Todd.

And the call from Coughlan last night. Todd was now pretty sure that hadn’t happened. Maybe it was the booze, he thought. But he doubted it.

He made a call.

“Todd!” said Nora. She sounded ecstatic to hear from him. “How’s it going?”

“Great,” said Todd. “Can’t wait to get back on the road.”

“And we are in the process of scheduling those dates for you,” said Nora, perhaps a little too quickly. “Although I must say, the book is doing so well, it seems to be quite happy without—”

Without me, thought Todd. Join the club, book.

“I’m glad,” he said. “Nora, I was kind of wondering—my situation has changed somewhat lately, and I was thinking—is there any chance I could get an advance? You know, on sales?”

“Todd,” said Nora brightly. “You’ve had your advance. Now all you need to do is sit back and wait for the royalties to flow in.”

“Yes, I know that,” said Todd, perhaps a little too tersely. “But I have certain, as I say, fresh financial issues, and…”

“Relax,” said Nora. “You’ll get your first check in April.”

“That’s months away!” cried Todd.

“Yes it is,” agreed Nora. “I’m sorry, Todd, that’s how publishing works.”

“Okay, okay,” said Todd. “There must be other ways to get money. How about movie rights?”

“We could look into that,” said Nora. “In fact, yes, that’s a good idea. That might net you a few hundred dollars.”

“A few hundred?” Todd said.

“Rights don’t really go for that much,” Nora said. “But listen, Todd, and this is something I was going to broach later…”

“What’s that?”

“How ready are you to write another book?” said Nora.

Todd was silent.

About as ready as I am to swim the fucking Pacific Ocean, he thought.

“Would that entail a larger advance?” he asked, slowly.

“As your publisher, I can say that we are in a good position regarding an advance on a sequel.”

“A sequel?”

“It doesn’t literally have to be a sequel,” said Nora. “Although people would love to know what happens to the characters.”

Me too, said Todd. He thought of a piece he’d once read about the late Elvis Presley. Asked about his new movie, Presley had apparently said, “Yeah, it’s a good script. I’d like to read it some time.”

“That ending,” said Nora, mistaking his silence for encouragement. “It’s ambiguous. And people hate loose ends.”