“Shut up!” shouted Nora, and it took Todd a moment to realize she didn’t mean him. “Sorry,” she said. “I was just telling some other people to shut up talking.”

Todd could hear now that Nora was a bit tipsy. “We’re having a party,” she explained. “To celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” asked Todd.

“Oh, that’s right,” Nora said. “You don’t know.”

Todd was now thoroughly confused, a condition not helped when Nora said:

“Todd Milstead is a voice to listen to, and a voice to listen out for.”

“Thanks,” said Todd, wondering just how drunk Nora was.

“All My Colors is a tour de force,” said Nora, and Todd realized that she was quoting something. “But it’s more than that. Tours de force come and go. This book is special. Find it. Buy it. Read it.”

“What’s that from?” said Todd. “Is it a press release? Because it’s kind of over the top.”

“It’s not a press release,” said Nora. “It’s the New York Times.”

Todd didn’t understand at first. Then he got it.

“You mean a review?” he said. “You mean the New York Times reviewed my book?”

“Yes,” said Nora, “that is exactly what I mean.”

“How did they get hold of it? I mean… I’m sorry, I have no idea what I mean.”

“A whole page,” said Nora. “With your photograph. Which reminds me, Carrie,” she said, her voice fading, “we need to get someone to Todd right away. The photo the Times used, I don’t know where they got it from but—are you still there, Todd?”

“Yes,” said Todd, looking at the painting of the brown thing. “I’m still here.”

“This changes everything,” said Nora. “Obviously we can’t cancel the tour at this stage, so I’m afraid you’ll still be circling the boondocks for a while. But we can set up more, and better, appearances now.”

“Okay,” said Todd, who until that second had no idea that he was circling the boondocks. Come on, the painting of the brown thing told his brain, what could be more boondocks than this?

“In the meantime, go to bed, get some sleep, and carry on as you were,” said Nora. “Because tomorrow, you’re going to wake up famous.”

*  *  *

The next day, Todd woke up, and didn’t feel particularly famous. Wanda pointed him in the direction of a local diner, and he enjoyed a hefty breakfast. Afterward, he looked for somewhere selling newspapers, but with no luck, so he checked out of the motel, and sat in the car inspecting his slightly random itinerary. His next stop, he was surprised to see, was Chicago. Not that Todd was a stranger to Chicago—it was the nearest drivable city and he went as often as he could—but it was different being invited to go there.