Read Hydraulic Level Five (1) for Free Online

yet?” Molly called, yanking me from the book.
    “No, I’m only about half-way through.”
    “Did he write about me?”
    “Ummm…sorry.” I was beyond certain the “Molly” character was a rosy twelve-year-old who’d shipped off to boarding school in the fourth book, but she disagreed. She still waited for a hip, New Age nixie to strut onto the stage of Samuel’s series in vintage cowboy boots. I caught a glimpse of Molly’s disappointed face in the mirror. The only sound was the pleasant, steady beat of the windshield wipers and Cassady’s fingers drumming the dashboard.
    “So, Kaye, had any trouble with the media this time around?” he asked.
    “Not so much. But I’ve stayed with Molly the past several days.” By now, I was an old pro at laying low following a Water Sirens book release. “My apartment phone’s probably ringing off the hook, and so are Mom’s and Dad’s. They aren’t too happy with Samuel right now.”
    “How’d they figure Neelie was based on you?” When the first book was released, Cassady was somewhere in northern California, working at a vineyard and boycotting razors.
    “After Water Siren ’s success, one of the local reporters rooted into Samuel’s past and played a matching game with his real-life acquaintances and the book characters.” I explained how the reporter concluded that one Kaye Cabral, née Trilby, was the inspiration behind the author’s quirky heroine, “Neelie Nixie.” The news feature was picked up regionally, then nationally, making my life an insane obstacle course of the media. I’d gotten a new cell phone number and email address for friends and family only, had our receptionist screen all guests, and installed a peephole and deadbolt on my front door.
    Alonso told me Samuel was concerned about the press reaction to the reporter’s findings. I asked him to tell Samuel, “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Be glad I’m not suing for invasion of privacy.” Alonso, kind man that he was, insisted his son hadn’t meant to be malicious. In the following books, Neelie wasn’t as recognizable, but the damage had been done. It didn’t matter whether Neelie’s traits were mine or not; readers just assumed they were.
    “Five minutes, Kaye,” said Molly. “Better skip to the end.”
    Hazy-eyed, I saw that we were already in the outskirts of Boulder. Crap! I flipped to the last few pages, searching for Neelie’s name. I didn’t see it. I turned back a few more, but still no Neelie. Odd, wouldn’t his main character be in the last scene? There was Nora…Noel…ooh, Molly’s character was back from boarding school…but no Nicodemus. And no Neelie.
    “Molly, slow down—look out for that news van backing up,” Cassady said calmly.
    I glanced up and gasped, letting the book fall shut. We were smack dab in the middle of a three-ring circus—local media trucks, cameramen covered in plastic ponchos, cars fighting for parking spaces, honking horns, hundreds of fans with brightly-colored umbrellas standing in lines out the door, just to get their book signed. Nerves shot through my body and settled in my stomach. I had no idea the signing would be this big. When TrilbyJones planned similar events, we’d kept them low key per Caroline’s request.
    “Maybe I should just wait to see him at the rehearsal dinner.”
    “We’re here, we’re going in.” Molly hit the horn as a beat-up Festiva pulled out in front of her.
    “But Monday’s my name-change hearing. I don’t think I should be sick for it, and with the rain…”
    “Do you even need to be present for that?” Cassady pointed out.
    “Kaye! How is it possible that you can dive head-first into whitewater rapids and not bat an eye, but when it comes to having a friendly exchange with your ex-husband—who, may I remind you, was your best friend for years—your feet freeze?”
    I took a deep breath and repeated my mantra. Answers. Answers. Answers.
    “There’s no way