Not My Fault

My grandfather once gave me the lecture on the importance of friends. Love em’, appreciate ‘em. Then he told me to be careful. “If your friends get into trouble, you will likely get involved.” Wisdom radiating from his deep voice as he continued, “Stay away from people who enjoy trouble.”

Boy, was my grandfather right.

Boy, am I glad I didn’t listen to him.

Now, I don’t mean the bad kind of trouble, just the kind of trouble that makes life . . . interesting. The particular situation I’m referring to was basically harmless . . . even if it did involve rope, a gun, a pair of handcuffs, a few agents, a handful of authors on a mission, a shower cap and a seaweed facial mask.

Now, don’t go judging me. I mean, name a writer who hasn’t dreamed once of twice of finding a sure-fire way to get an agent’s undivided attention. And even if you do judge me, before you condemn me, let me explain that it wasn’t my fault. You see, I have this friend.

Yep, it’s all Faye Hughes’ fault.

Okay…okay, maybe it’s not all her fault. Faye and I, well, we’re kind of dangerous together. If we’d grown up in the same town, gone to the same school, we’d have been the friends who not only didn’t get to sit together, we wouldn’t have been allowed to be in the same classroom. Why? Because when we’re together, one of us gets some crazy notion, the idea gets ping-ponged back and forth until what sounded like the talk of two lunatics suddenly begins to sound like a downright brilliant plan.

That’s how the I got into my last bit of trouble. Faye and I were in Dallas at the RWA national convention. We were talking about our workshop, “The Great Agent Hunt,” which we’re giving at the Romantic Times Convention next April in Pittsburgh. We wanted to do something different for the workshop, and the word “hunt” sort of set us off. The next thing I know, we were asking Ruth—another friend who doesn’t run from trouble and had a car—to make an emergency run to the nearest Wal*Mart to pick up a few supplies. God, I love Ruth, she didn’t even question why we might need a gun, a rope or some aqua-green seaweed facial mask.

The hard part was getting the agents into the room. Amazingly, our friends were all lined up to help carry out our plan. Their willingness had nothing to do with their being rejected by numerous agents and ready for revenge, either. Oh no, it was all due to the amazing thing called friendship and friends who…well, friends who don’t run from a little trouble.

Now, the agents had some reservations at first, but being outnumbered—they were sort of roped into the plan. We were set to go. We had the three agents, Kim Lionetti, Jessica Faust and Caren Johnson, on board. By this, I mean we had the rope, the gun, the seaweed facial mask and the hotel shower cap, but Teri, another friendly co-conspirator, refused to crawl under the bed. (Something about bed bugs. Crazy right? I mean, we’re tying agents to hotel chairs—among other indignities—and she’s worried about bed bugs!) Anyway, the point is, I needed another pair of hands and an under-the-bed person.

I thought about asking Teri to run get Suzan. (Yep, another friend. But Faye, who was in charge of taking care of the gun, reminded me that Suzan, a lawyer, had warned us that the less she knew about the details, the better we’d be if we needed her to defend us. Alison, another schemer in our plan, was already at her post, which was hiding in the closet. So, I sent Teri across the hall to get Jody.

Jody, oblivious to what was going on, came barreling across hall with more gusto than someone who weighs so little could possibly barrel, and said, “What do you need?”

I was standing there with the rope in my hands and my agent, Kim, fidgeting in a chair, Faye was toting the gun, Ruth was mixing up the seed weed mask and opening the shower cap, Jessica was handcuffed to the nightstand, (in all fairness, I have to state that the handcuffs were both Jessica’s idea and supplied by her,) Caren, who is feistier than she appears, was waiting, with her scowl in place, for us, in the bathroom. I told Jody to tie Kim up and then get under the bed.

Without even blinking, Jody grabbed the rope and proceeded to tie a slightly concerned-looking Kim to her chair. Halfway through the process, Jody turned to me and said, “Christie, you should get your camera out.”

Kim started getting really nervous, and I lost it and started laughing. “Jody, what do you think we’re doing? The reason we’re tying her up is to take pictures. We’re making a video for our workshop.”

Jody shrugged. “Hey. You guys are friends, you say tie her up, I tie her up. Real friends don’t ask questions.” She glanced at Kim and smiled. “I bury bodies, too.” That’s when I took the first picture. The look on Kim’s face was priceless.

And that is why I’m glad that I didn’t listen to my granddaddy. You see, all my friends are the type of characters who . . . well, enjoy a little bit of trouble.

While the real video won’t be debuted until the Romantic Times conference, Faye and I have done a teaser video that will give you an idea of the trouble we got into at the RWA conference. Go take a look and remember, it really is Faye’s fault.

Great Agent Hunt Teaser

So what about you guys? Do you have some friends who get you in trouble? Friends who would help you bury the bodies?

--Crime Scene Christie