All My Colors by Todd Milstead is published by Franklyn and Sullivan and is available from Legolamb Books, DeKalb.

Timothy affected to be not pissed off at all.

“Maybe if I’d called the place Books ’R’ Us they would have got the name right,” he beamed. “After all, it’s not like I’ve been putting the same goshdarned ad in the paper every week for twenty years.”

“I take your point,” said Todd, who’d lost interest in whatever the twinkly old fuckstick had been saying after “Maybe.” “Listen, I just wanted to thank you for your support and say that anything I can do to pay you back, just let me know.”

Timothy was well aware that his support had consisted entirely of encouraging Todd in his delusions of authorness, but he had no intention of saying so. Especially now he’d begun reading All My Colors and recognized it for what it was—the real deal. Timothy had no idea how a moron like Milstead—worse, a sloth like Milstead, who probably took six months to write a goddamn check, and even then had to lie down for a week afterward—had come to write a novel that was the real deal, but with no evidence to the contrary, he had to swallow his loathing of the man and concede (but only to himself) that maybe he had talent.

“Well,” he said to Todd now, “a few signed copies for the store would be nice. And maybe—” Timothy swallowed the acid gall of envy. “—a reading. If you’re not too busy.”

“A reading!” said Todd. “That’s a great idea. This place would be perfect for me to practice for my book tour.”

Timothy’s smile hid knives.

“It would be an honor, kind sir, to be the sounding board for your greater endeavors,” he said. “Why, to think that one day soon, the words you haltingly uttered here would echo in the greater halls of our cities… it humbles me.”

Timothy wondered if he’d gone too far, but Todd’s expression—akin to that of the dog in the Garfield strip—suggested that he had lapped it up and would have been happy to hear more.

“Thanks, Timothy,” said Todd. “I’ll work up a few passages to read and then we’ll give it a whirl.”

“Great,” said Timothy. “Let’s set a date and I’ll print up a few posters. I’ll even write ’em myself.” He smiled, tightly. “So as to get the name of the store right.”

*  *  *

Todd worked hard on his presentation.