As I reeled backward to avoid hitting him, I spilled the contents of my briefcase all over the sidewalk. I flung myself down on my knees, trying to retrieve whatever paperwork hadn’t already blown all over Peachtree Street, and terrified a little white-haired old lady who was trying to pass me when I popped back up to my feet like a jack-in-the-box right in front of her.
She squawked in alarm and swung her handbag at my head, which made me shout and instinctively fling up my briefcase arm to dodge the blow. The briefcase hit her in the chest and she wind-milled her arms and toppled backward. I leaped to catch her, and we both fell to the sidewalk in a spectacular sprawl. Though I managed to turn to take the brunt of the fall, the old lady had been frightened out of her wits. She also got mad as hell, and began screaming at the top of her lungs for a cop. I got back to my feet, throwing abject apologies over my shoulder at her as I sprinted for my car. I realized as I ran that a searing pain was shooting down my lower back and into my hip, because at some point during my wild flight down the street, I must have pulled a muscle in my back. By the time I pulled up in the driveway of the venue after some forty minutes of rush hour traffic, I was in serious pain, hunched over the steering wheel like Quasimodo and sweating like a pig. I managed to make it inside and popped a couple of extra-strength aspirin. It would have to do. I was moving fast when I ran by the table where Mr. Young sat with a face like a thundercloud. I gave him a confident wave and moved as fast as I could into the staging and prep area for the caterers.
Thank God, I found everything moving along smoothly there. The hors d'œuvres looked plentiful and delicious, and the caterers were filling champagne glasses, readying them to go out on large trays. The waiters wore nice little black outfits and all of them looked tidy and had clean fingernails. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, I grabbed a glass off one of the trays and tossed it back. It was so good I drained another one. I thought I just might be able to pull this thing off after all.
As I came back out into the main seating area, Tori was there, looking tense and clicking her fingernails against the tabletop. “Cutting it kind of close, aren’t you, Jordy?” she said, as if she hadn’t been just as late as I was.
“Better late than never, right? God, Tori. I fell on the sidewalk and messed up my back and then my air-conditioner wouldn’t work in my car. But I’m here, and everything looks good, and the caterers are doing a good job—so it’s all good, right?” I held up my hand for a high-five, but she raised one nervous eyebrow and left me hanging.
“Hmm. You really gotta be more careful, honey.” Tori started glancing around the room. “It’s almost time to introduce the author with his new release. Who did you line up for that?”
I felt an icy chill slip under my collar and run down my spine. “I, uh…”
Tori regarded me suspiciously. “Tell me you didn’t forget to get someone to introduce him.”
“Uh…okay…” I whispered. “I won’t tell you.”
“What?”
“Well, I did ask one of our other authors, and he told me he’d get back to me, but when he didn’t… well, I meant to call him back, but…”
“But you forgot.”
I put my forehead in my hand. “Oh, God.”
Tori straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “All right,” she said in a tone that would have no doubt impressed the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, “We can get through this. You’ll have to introduce him yourself.”
“Me?” Stricken with horror, I felt all the blood drain from my head so fast I got lightheaded. Of all the things in the world I actually did excel at, and despite popular opinion, there really were a few, I didn’t include public speaking as one of them. Probably there were people worse at it than I was, but I had never witnessed any. I considered myself to be an articulate person, good with words. For some reason when I got on a stage of any kind, even a little dais like this one, I