My cell phone's ringtone wakes me up. It's 7:30.

-Baby?

-hmm?

-So? You didn't call me back last night?

-Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. After dinner I went directly to bed and...

-Who did you have dinner with? He sternly interrupts me.

-Well...In fact I needed some time alone, I went for a walk and had a Fish and Chips on the streets.

-There were guys?

-What?

-Did you eat with guys?

-Not at all. I just told you I ate alone on the streets then, I bought cigarettes and a Coca-Cola before returning to the hotel to enjoy the view. London is amazing at night I wish you...

-In fact you are right without me, aren't you? It's so much better, isn't it? You'll take advantage of it to impress your editor. You are happy now? You feel good, don't you?

No no no NO NO!!

He's doing it on purpose. Last night he must have drunk alcohol and he's not good this morning. He doesn't think what he's saying. He's just pushing me and trying to get a reaction because he's sad but in fact, he doesn't want to hurt me. I know him: it's a good guy. When we just met it was different. Maybe I shouldn't have left for so long. I should have found a solution for him to come with me: it's all my fault. If he's mad: it's all my fault.

-I'm sorry Nico, I should have made a way, I leave for three days and I know it's not cool for you. Forgive me. I'm sorry. Next time we will do better I pro...

-Next time? Next time? Because you think there will be a next time? He shouts with a false and perverse laugh.

-I may have a few other sessions to...

-Just go! Go and show your damn self off with your lame novel nobody cares about! But don't complain when you'll have to fuck with your editor or with the janitor of your expensive hooker's hotel! You know what? You are just a...

I close the hatches. I put the receiver far from my ears to hear less of what is saying. My heart is beating so fast I'm afraid he could hear me through the phone. A voice is rumbling inside. Like a Dragon, waking up after centuries of sleep.

-Hang up, he says. Hang up now. We should have blown him off a long time ago. Hang up. He won't hurt you here he doesn't even know the address of the hotel. Hang up before you give it to him.

I hang up. I throw the phone far from me, onto the bed and try to slow my heart rate. It vibrates again but I reject the call over and over. I don't want any hideous voice message from him. I'll spend my afternoon signing my book. I will live an excellent moment. In London. And he's trying to mess up with it.

A fault is opening inside of me.

An intense anger and an unimaginable frustration are crossing me from side to side. When I look at my reflection on the bathroom's mirror I have the feeling that all of this spite held for so long is taking the shape of a giant and evil reptile.

In the mirror I see my Dragon stretching his wings and unravelling his rings.

-It's been way too long since I've been silent inside of you. That douchebag is stopping me from being alive for quite some time. In addition he's just a goatskin bag ready for wine and beer. How long ago did he make you feel something good? The last time you had a good time, it was when? When was the last time you had pleasure or even desire?

This dialogue with myself leaves me astonished. Today is a dream day. I will live and savour every second of it. I won't let him waste even the tiniest bit of my happiness.

-Did you see your face? To waste it, he should have put more efforts! You can make fun of your editor: for two months, you've been styling your hair with your fingers and you can barely tell the difference between your mascara and your pen.

It's just eight. I have a show this afternoon and the only seduction 'accessory' I have in my bag is a toothbrush. Pitiful. I put a pair of jeans and a random top on and head to the SPA to ask the kind lady to make me look like a million dollars for next twelve hours.

Three hours and two hundred pounds later, when I meet Anastasia in the lobby she doesn't recognize me before the second sight.

-Gorgeous! You are gorgeous, Saah! This is going to be an amazing day, I'm sure we are going to have a good time, she says with a childish excitement.

-Poor thrilled dumbass! Thinks the Dragon. But he doesn't say it because Anastasia is a sweetheart compared to this morning's caller. I smile and thank her.

The marathon starts with a brunch with the translator and the editor for London. We mostly talk about marketing. They planned the Leopard's release magnificently, playing just like they did with Ana Todd & Harry Styles: Hugh and Co purposely let some persons say that the character of Kilian O'Hara is inspired by Dylan O'Brien. The three are rubbing their hands while they show me newspaper pieces where it's written. It saddens me. For obvious reasons, I had to change the actor's name but the paperback version of my book, filled with a lot of sex scenes and virile bust-ups, selling for a nice 18£ seems less authentic than the free fan fiction I shared on wattpad. I imposed Clement but I feel like I betrayed Dylan. I lost him.

We said we wouldn't let anything mess with our day, grumbles the Dragon.

At the Waterstone bookstore I'm uncomfortable and touched at the same time. A crowd of young girls, women and boys is waiting with excitement in front of the building.

The Zombies-fans are coming for you.

It's crazy. I feel like a fraud. The Brit cover is plastered all over the windows and it's monstrously colourful. An attack of nerves gives me a lump in my throat.

The shop owner greets us and after the customary courtesies he escorts me to my table. A young lady is here to bring me fresh drinks and made sure don't run out of my 'Leopard's tail' and its 'gay comic kitsch' cover. Crap.

-Well, you wanted to pay the right to use O'Brien's image?

Once I'm ready, the security guard opens the door and let the readers come in. I put a forced smile on my face but inside: I'm scared to death.

-Hello! What's your name?

The first book is for Amy, a pretty redhead who seems as frightened as me. Then, there's Gina who asks me take a selfie. I accept with enthusiasm. A grand-mother asks for an inscription to her grand-son. Next, I have Carla, Lindsay, Mary, Edna, Emma, Andy, Leila, Ava, Mindy, Christopher, Christin, Christin, Charlotte, Diana, Margaret, Aminata, Billy, Meredith, John, Evelyn, Cameron, Vince...I'm drowning. My right hand is red and my fingers hurt. At five, it starts to get dark and there's still a long queue outside. It's rewarding and exhausting. I'm on an exceptional number of selfies. It makes me think about my Dylan/Kilian during his premiere.

I sign faster and faster, it's almost time to stop and I want to please as much readers as possible. I ask the young lady to inform that I won't be able to take more pictures. I feel shabby: people come to show me their affection and I have to brush them off because time is up.

I sign.

I sign fast. I don't even see who's in front of me. A clamour is raising from the entrance, probably because the guards are trying to send people home. The noise doesn't stop but I continue to sign. Young girls are giggling and seem to be more excited than a moment ago. They take pictures and I hear some 'Thank you so much! I'm such a huge fan. 'Here and there. But the praise doesn't come from those who are close to me.

Sign. Sign. Sign.

Faster, with a bigger smile. Only three left. Two women and a man. The other ones have a hard time leaving the bookstore. The cameras are flashing non-stop. I'm exasperated and tired at a point I didn't know was possible to reach. I don't have the time to lift my head, the last book is in front of me.

-Hello! What's your name?

-To Brittany please, says the Leopard with a large smile in a hail of flashes and a round of applause. 

********
Many thanks to OrezzaDantes for her wonderful job on the Leopard's Cover. 😘😘😘