CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW EXCLUSIVE EXPOSE!!!! "MY LIFE WITH THE SEEKERS"

"Good morning, Seekerville, this is Dresden Davis reporting for R-Witness News, the go-to place for discerning romance lovers everywhere, reporting to you here from the mainland with Captain Jack Sparrow, nefarious pirate of the high seas. Captain Jack has been the subject of film and dissertation across the land, and, yay, across the world. For the past twenty-seven months, Jack has been holed up on a tropical island playing barista and cabana boy to a nefarious group of romance writers who call themselves Seekers. Jack, tell me, what was it like, working for those women? Did they treat you well?"

"Ah, Dresden, m'love, 'tis only you I have eyes for at the present. Let's not speak of others, ay? Drink to me only with thine eyes.... and do ye have a bit o' rum?"

"Not at eight AM, Jack."

"Ah, darlin' lass..." Jack leans a bit closer, close enough for me to note his eyeliner is actually holding better than mine. Clinique, mayhap???? "'Tis five o'clock somewhere. Me friend Jimmy Buffet sung about it, ye know. Why Margaret Daley and I did a little 'flamingo' dance to it just last year." He draws close. Very, very close. "Margaret's got a thing for flamingos. Savvy???"

"Margaret and flamingos." My brain reels, knowing Margaret's an Okie... there are NO flamingos in Oklahoma, which means.... Margaret gets around.

Just as I suspected. I meet Jack's move forward with one of my own, noting his hair beading has a Pandora look to it. Pricey. Nice. Those Seeker women certainly kept him well. "But lets talk today about your experiences on Unpubbed Island. What was it like? Wild and crazy? Dull and boring? Tell us, Jack. Tell ALL..." I let my voice fade, leading Jack to a comfort level, like I'm his new BFF. Although all he'd have to do is give me one of those long, slow looks and I WOULD BE....

Jack meets my look and comes closer, close enough for me to see his mascara is too dark for me but holding up in the morning sun marvelously. "Parties."

"Parties?" I almost croak the words, because this.... OH, THIS!!!! These Seekers are fine Christian women, they're a church-going bunch that loves God, loves their country and loves romance that makes the world go 'round.... PARTIES!!!! BRING ON THE FRONT PAGE, BOSS!!! I lean closer... "What kind of parties?"

Jack's eyes widen. He gives me an appreciative smile and I KNOW instinctively (we reporters have VERY GOOD INSTINCTS, think Deep Throat and Watergate....) that he's about to spill everything and I'll use it to expose the Secret Life of Bees.

Oh, wait, that's been done. I meant:

The Secret Life of Seekers.

YES!!!!! "Tell me about the parties, Jack," I say softly, leading him, another skill I pride myself on. "Tell Dresden every little thing."

"Amazing," he says, then takes a long swig of coffee. I have the Starbucks crew bring him more because I want no interruptions while Jack tells his tale. "At first they were sporadic. Like here and there. Lately..." He shook his head and puffed steam from his brew, a bit of foamed milk clinging to his mustache and making him look even more approachable.

YUM.

Holly Jacobs

"Now, they have 'em all the time. It's like a weekly occurrence that someone or 'nother has a "Gettin' off the Island" party. Gettin' published 'n all. First them. Now their friends. And they have so many friends, men... Women..." His eyes brighten at that thought, rogue that he is. "Holly Jacobs... a fine writer she is, but I hear people throw stuff at her when she speaks in public, so she might want to stick to her keyboard, ye' ken??? And they've got a last 'un of the original fifteen, Pammy, and ah...."

Jack's face gets that dreamy-starry-eyed look we women know so well and I know this must be Pam Hillman, 2011 Golden Heart finalist and a new client of Steve Laube, one of the top-notch agents in Christian fiction. I lean in, hoping for more on Miss Pam. "Tell me about Pam, Jack." I encourage him with a long... slow... blink. "Tell me everything, big guy."

2011 GH finalist Pam Hillman

"I love her," he admitted. "But then I love them all, they've made my life..." he hiccups a little, looking suddenly ver klempt, like he'd just lost his mother to Davy Jones Locker.... "wonderful, is all. Just wonderful. And I can't help but worry me heart out what will happen to me? To the Island? When they're all gone?"

Time to get the bloker back on track. I mean, really????? "Do they all come to the parties, Jack? Tina? Cara? How about RITA FINALIST Mary Connealy?" I'm thinking right now it would be front page worthy to get the scoop on that Petticoat-pushing beef farmer from Nebraska. I mean: AS IF.

Mary's reputed pet chicken, a Golden Sebright

Who believes THAT bio and the rumor she used to have a pet chicken??? Obviously a creation of a clever marketing department, but nothing gets by me, the Dresden-ator. "Who's there, Jack, my pirate-friend? When the lights go down on Unpubbed Island?"

"They bring in their friends," Jack begins again. "Bob Mayer came by and spent a day with 'em and got 'em all feelin' like they're normal with that Warrior Writer stuff. The hissy fits, the desperation, the tears, the neuroses... He called them 'common to writers everywhere...' But he was an okay bloke, you know, one of those military types I'm not usually all that taken with, but Bob...." Jack dips his chin. "He's all right. Savvy?"

Savvy? I LOVE Bob Mayer, and Jack's actually met the dude???? SWEET. "Tell me more. Tell me about the women, Jack."

Karen White and Ruthy

"Karen White," he says instantly. "A four-time Rita finalist. Gorgeous. All that hair..." Jack gets a dreamy look in his eye. "A friend of mine bid 200 camels for her long ago, a ridiculously high price I thought. And then I met her here, in Seekerville..." Jack shoots me a look. "I'd have gone 300 CAMELS for a prize like that. Mayhap I can offer the judges some camels, fresh imports? That might put her just over the top enough to win this year! And Edwina, my love, with that wizened look of knowledge, like she holds the key to every mystery..." He sends me a slightly wicked glance. "Edwina is more than she seems."

"Really?" Since I know Edwina Cowgill through her marvelous book reviews, I edge closer. "You and Edwina..."

Edwina Cowgil

"Talked books all night long," he told me in a soft voice that dripped with mystery. "She showed me her collection of jewels. Did you know she has bracelets, necklaces, earrings and rings to match everything she owns? And hangs them together in the closet?"

"Umm... no." Who knows that kind of stuff about someone? I mean I KNOW Edwina is always decked out, but matchy-matchy everything????

"She's amazing." He whispered the words as if saying them out loud might taint the memory. Really??? Are ya' kiddin' me? This is Jack Sparrow, whispering in THAT TONE about a book discussion. Obviously Edwina is one of those still waters....

I sit back, hungering for more, or maybe eyeing one of those lemon pound cake slices, so good, delectable really, melt-in-your-mouth wonderfulness.

"Tell me about Julie, Jack." I lean in, trying not to stare at the pound cake, thinking 'SIZE 8, SIZE 8, SIZE... MAYBE 10..."

"Julie is one of a kind."

Aha. "As in...?"

"Beautiful, voluptuous, darling, sincere, and did you know she can PIPE INITIALS on twice-baked potatoes?"

I throw up, just a little, in my mouth.

"And Camy?" I press, thinking the loud Asian chick might be the chink in Jack's armor. Two years is a long time for a man of Jack's reputation to remain.... lonely.

"A child," he scoffs. "More Will's type than mine. But then there was Marilyn Brant."

I loved her book "According to Jane", a fun twist on non-Austen-esque modern behaviors. Brilliant switch-around. "You and Marilyn...."

"Spent a never-to-be-forgotten evening discussing everything Austen. Jane's an old friend o' mine, savvy?"

I'm not surprised. Anyone who can woo Mr. Darcy would have an easy time with Jack. "Deb Giusti," I press.

Jack's expression deepens. Softens. "A true American, that one. For such, just wars are fought. If I were a soldier, and let me just add I would never BE a soldier, I'd fight for the likes of Deb Giusti... And me-thinks she spoke of a tiara in her past... A crown of some sort.... Perhaps a pageant past in an army-brat's life???" He meets my gaze. "The idea of Deb in a tiara puts me in mind of..." He swallows hard, a woebegone, love-lost expression giving him that half-asleep look we all know and love.

Deb Giusti's Miss Mount Vernon Tiara

Except now is NOT TIME FOR SLEEPING.

"More coffee!" I hail the barista. "And how about two slices of that lemon pound cake."

"Every now and then, when I'm missing the Black Pearl, missing adventures, the lasses will bring Walt and Vince around." Jack sits back and nods, flirts with a Wall-Street chick wearing a Rockette-type suit with SEAMED STOCKINGS, and I notice she doesn't order pound cake or extra whipped cream and I realize I might hate her without even knowing her. The wrongness of that doesn't bother me all that much at the moment. I will repent at leisure later because the barista is bringing pound cake my way...

"Vince does great reviews, but do you think he's got a thing for Ruthy?" I ask quietly. Keeping Jack directed is not an easy task, but I'd love to get something on that Ruthy-character. Bossy. Autocratic. Flippant... the fact that she's got good hair DOES NOT preclude me wanting to find a fatal flaw in her character. Although her new pics are a work of art and she'd probably resist that lemon cake, if not the M&M peanuts she brags on all the time.

"Myra, actually," he says instantly. "And Vince is another military bloke, a pilot, ye ken?"

"Really?" I didn't know that.

Walt Mussell

"Been to thirty countries, but that's nothin' compared to me and the Pearl," Jack boasts. "But he's a thinkin' man, he loves the ladies and their words, but his wife's a fine bit of a thing and she keeps him tethered well. And Walt, well, Walt has an appreciation for the East and since my travels have taken me far and wide, we discuss things at length."

"Over rum?"

"Over whatever the ladies have on hand." Jack laughs but nods. "And they keep me a bit o' rum, now and again. For medicinal purposes. And holidays. And the good Lord himself was a wine-drinker, I'm thinkin' a spot o' rum now and again to avoid the lumbago keeps a man's heart pumpin' and his interest brewin'. No pun intended." He sends me that wicked grin once more and I realize I'm getting nothing from Jack.

And then I realize something else. The bloke LOVES THE SEEKERS.

Even though they keep him somewhat sequestered, even though his days are long, hot and sunny, even though they've emptied fourteen of fifteen huts....

He loves 'em.

He's ruining my expose!!!

(sorry, a Phineas and Ferb moment there, speaking of which..._)

"Jack, do you have TV on the island?"

"My one love in life is to watch "Phineas and Ferb" with Pepper and Ruthy," he admits. "When we're not reading Barbara Vey's blog for Publisher's Weekly, of course. Barbara was nice enough to have me as an honored guest at her recent birthday bash.... But back to Pepper and Ruthy... We roll around in the sand..."

Oh... Oh.... Oh......!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Laughing," he continues. "That Candace. I've met many a Candace in my day. But I love those lads..."I know what we're going to do today, Ferb," Jack deadpans a perfect imitation of Phineas. "I love the show but Pepper Basham...." he smiles and winks...."that lady not only has a way with words but have you seen her new picture with that cascade of curls???"

Obviously Jack has a hair thing going on. Not surprising, considering his own unique 'do'.

"Janet Dean's got the cutest little crooked toes," he continues. "They're actually quite effective for digging in the sand, no hands. A marvelous feat." He shares one of those cock-eyed grins. "A pun, dear, get it? My play on words. Feet. Feat. And did you know that another quirk of fate had Andrea Chermak born on All Saint's Day?"

"The author of Fearless?" I ask.

Jack nods.

"Will wonders never cease," I mutter, feeling like I might have wasted not only my time but the last twelve dollars on the twenty-dollar Starbucks card my mother sent for my birthday. Gone... Just like that. Two coffees and two pound cakes, both of which I ate.

Sigh....

"But then there's TINA..." he says, and my hope spirals up again. "I'd do anything for her. Ford a raging river... Sail the seven seas.... Climb a tree in search of the best coconuts known to man."

"Tina Radcliffe, author of "The Rancher's Reunion" and "Oklahoma Reunion"??? THAT TINA RADCLIFFE???"

Oh, I'm on to something now, because she's even bossier than Ruthy, and almost as smart as Mary... Tina and Jack... YES. PERFECTAMENTE! Scandal and front page, hand in hand.

Jack hands me a slip of paper. Trembling, just a little, I open it, sure that it's the key to some secret Seeker scandal, that one of them, AT LEAST is leading some sort of tell-all double-life expose:

Tina's Coconut Cake

1 box yellow cake mix

1 can sweetened condensed milk

1 can cream of coconut (in mixed drink aisle-if you use the kind in the plastic bottle only use 3/4)

12 oz Cool Whip ( I sometimes use more)

1 -2 cups flaked coconut (I like as much as I can get on there)

Bake cake according to directions in a 9 x 11 ish glass pan.

Immediately after removing from oven, punch holes all over the top with a fork. LOTS OF HOLES. Pouring slowly over the cake, while hot, alternate sweetened condensed milk and cream of coconut. Let stand thirty minutes then refrigerate overnight. MUST BE OVERNIGHT!!

Before serving top with cool whip and sprinkle coconut on top

And so it goes...


Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. And as I sat there conversing with Jack, I decided that I, too, will become a friend of Seekerville.


Because I really like these gals. And because I do, there's a lovely surprise Seeker-package going out to one commenter today. And maybe a couple of books to other commenters, because seeing Jack's love for the Seekers makes me feel sweet. Magnanimous. Generous to a fault.


And that's never a BAD thing, right?


This is Dresden Davis, reporting for "R-Witness" News.