Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Bren
“This is new,” I said, pointing to the sparkly dildos that I hadn’t seen last time I’d visited Between the Sheets, a romance bookstore in the city.
The new products were located in the back behind a folding screen which pissed me off, but I understood why Larison, the owner, had made the choice to put them back there.
Delaney, one of the booksellers poked her head around the screen and smiled.
“Aren’t they fantastic? I can’t decide if I want to use them or decorate with them. My boyfriend would have a fit either way.”
“Use them, definitely,” I said, snorting. A lot of them were actually pretty. So many toys were a little too realistic for me. I much preferred a fantasy with wild colors and shapes. These were absolutely my kind of thing.
“Aren’t they great?” Larison said, coming around the corner. “I’m just glad that my daughter didn’t open that box when we were doing inventory and pull them out. I wasn’t sure how to handle the dildo conversation with her.”
I almost choked. Larison’s daughter, Juniper, was often in the shop when she wasn’t in school. I couldn’t imagine having to have that talk with her.
“You’re going to make me have that conversation with her, aren’t you?” Larison’s fiancée, Jo, said as she came out from the back room with a box of books.
“Maybe. I think you’d do it better.” Jo rolled her eyes behind her clear-framed glasses and blew some curly blonde hair out of her face.
“Figures,” she said, setting the box down and wincing.
“You’ve got to stop carrying those. Use the dolly,” Larison scolded as Jo dug her fingers into her lower back.
“I know, I know. It was just a few, though. And now I have an excuse to book us a massage.” She wiggled her eyebrows and Larison grinned.
“You are positively diabolical, baby.” She crossed the space and pulled Jo into her arms as Delaney sighed happily.
“They’re just like a fairytale, I swear.”
They certainly were. It was almost sickening, so I turned my attention to the dildos.
My phone went off and I realized I’d spent far too much time here. Between the Sheets was just one of the businesses where I sold my products on commission. They’d been very good to me, and it also gave me an excuse to come in and end up leaving with armfuls of romance books. As a general rule, I read more ebooks, but I also couldn’t pass up a pretty paperback, or a special edition of one of my favorite authors.
Larison had also started a monthly book club and had fun events that I loved coming to. She wanted me to teach one about crafting your own book or ereader sleeve, but I didn’t think I’d be good at teaching anyone anything, so I’d declined, but that didn’t stop her from asking every time I was here, or bugging me to join book club.
“Okay, I really need to get out of here,” I said, looking over at the counter where I’d stacked a bunch of books that I wanted to buy. Shit. I really shouldn’t.
“Let me just ring you up,” Delaney said as Larison and Jo were in their own world.
Between the Sheets was truly one of my favorite places, and not just because I made a lot of money by selling my products here. It was a cozy and welcoming space, with mismatched rugs and comfy worn chairs and beautiful murals on the walls and the prettiest wooden shelves. If I could, I’d spend all day here. As long as there weren’t a bunch of people around, but the place was popular, so that wasn’t realistic. I wondered if Larison would let me pay to come in after hours for an hour. Private browsing, like I was an heiress or something.
Laney gave me the total and even with my discount, it was more than I should have been spending on non-essential items. I liked to justify it because I needed books (new releases and popular titles especially) to use in product demonstrations and social media posts.
“Oh, I almost forgot that Holiday wanted to ask if you could drop off one of the shell-themed ereader covers for her the next time you come?” Laney handed me the note that the other part-time bookseller, Holiday, had left.
“You know what, I bet I have one in my trunk.” I took my purchases out and checked, and I just happened to have one of the covers. They’d mostly sold out fast and I couldn’t get any more of that specific fabric, so they’d been a one-off drop at the beginning of the summer.
“She’s in luck,” I said, holding it up. Laney beamed.
“You are an angel. She’s going to be so happy.”
As a general rule, I didn’t enjoy most people, but Holiday was an exception. I didn’t know what it was about her, but I liked her. We’d had more than a few deep discussions about books we loved when I’d come to the bookshop. In some ways, she reminded me of Melliferal. A person who brought out a nicer side of me.
I said my goodbyes again and realized I had spent far too much time at the bookshop and needed to bust my ass if I was going to get through my list for today. I kept strict schedule, with each day blocked out for different tasks and if I got behind on one thing, it threw off the rest of my day, and sometimes my week. There were only enough hours in the day to do about half of the things I needed to get done.
The bookshop had been my last stop of the day, so I stopped and allowed myself to indulge in a dirty chai to help get me through the rest of the afternoon. Could I have made it at home? Sure. But did it taste as good? No, it didn’t.
The business had taken over my apartment, with my sewing machine taking prominence in front of the window in my living room, baskets of fabric covering the floor, and my sticker and bookmark printers on another table. I preferred to use my laptop on the couch with a blanket, so at least I hadn’t needed a desk, but I would have given one of my lesser-important fingers for a decent desktop with a huge screen.
My computer was laggy and overheated constantly and had decided it really hated me by shutting down at least once every time I needed to use it. I’d gotten really militant about backing up my work.
I didn’t quite have enough in my budget for a new or refurbished computer, but I might get to the point where the choice would be made for me. I hoped to put it off as long as possible.
After an extremely quick snack of peanut butter slathered on crackers that I ate in the kitchen, I washed my hands and sat down at my sewing machine. Arson took up her regular post in the cat bed by my feet. I had a bunch of ebook sleeves that needed finishing which I’d been putting off. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job and I loved sewing, but finishing always stressed me out and I worried about the most microscopic flaws.
When I’d first started making the book sleeves, my seams had been shitty, so I’d taken classes and worked hard to improve so I didn’t give anyone an inferior product. Originally, they hadn’t had any kind of closure, but now I’d added a button, so they could protect the books better. My ebook sleeves had a flap and snap and all of them were waterproof, which had been an absolute must.
I got into my rhythm and listened to my podcast with only half my attention, but that was how I usually worked. Once I finished up sewing all the buttons, I switched over the laundry to the dryer. I washed a lot of fabric, so having a washer and dryer in my apartment had been essential, even if it made my rent terrifyingly expensive.
By the time I was stopping for a break, it was late and my stomach was desperate for something nourishing. Too often I got so focused on my work that everything else fell away, including hunger and the needs of my bladder.
In addition to planning my schedule for maximum output for work, I also made sure that I didn’t have to spend too much time on things that didn’t contribute to my business. Like cooking and cleaning. So that meant I fit a once-a-week cleaner into my budget, as well as a crockpot and an air fryer, and I made a menu each week. Being organized kept me sane and made me feel like I wasn’t completely falling apart. Hell, I’d been taking care of my own meals and laundry since I was about nine, so I’d had years to refine my system.
Tonight, I had leftovers that I pulled from the fridge and heated up in the microwave. Rubbing my itchy and tired eyes, I sat on the couch and stared at the television, not even sure what I was watching. It didn’t matter. I was done for the day. Even Arson had was passed out on the couch after I’d fed her.
A new message came through on my phone.
Mondayyyyyy it said with a gif of someone screaming. Guess Melliferal had had a rough one too.
I think we’re both entitled to compensation I responded. I will take mine in the form of peanut butter chocolate fudge and a day-long massage.
She sent me the drooling emoji. Peanut butter chocolate fudge would cure me right now, I think. Peanut butter chocolate fudge and maybe one hour of quiet. The mayhem has been mayhemming especially hard today.
Melliferal had told me she had a loud family (she’d said they were such a part of her life that she couldn’t pretend they didn’t exist, but she’d kept the details sparse), and I knew she lived near them, if not with them. I literally couldn’t imagine her life.
What was it like to have parents who didn’t resent your existence from the minute you were born? Who didn’t act like your basic needs were excessive and annoying? Who didn’t keep an accounting of every cent they spent on you and then give you the bill, as if you could pay it? They’d tried, but I’d torn it up on my way out the door. I almost wish I’d had a lighter on me so I could have burned it in front of them and thrown the ashes on the lawn. But they probably would have called the cops and told them I’d tried to burn their house down.
My parents were affable and charming to everyone except for their own daughter. No one would have believed me if I’d told them how my parents had treated me, so I just hadn’t said anything. It had been easy when they’d been off on trips to invite friends over and pretend that my parents just really trusted me and that my independence was exactly what I wanted.
I’m sorry. Do you wanna play our alphabet game? Melliferal had told me about the game she played with her family when we’d first started talking and I’d eagerly participated. One of us would pick a letter to start with. Then we’d have a conversation, but each answer had to start with the next letter of the alphabet. So if she started with E, she’d say Even my teeth hurt and I’d respond fuck, that sucks , and so on. It was fun and a little challenging sometimes. It was also a great distraction if you’d had a shitty day.
Yes please. You can start.
I wiggled my fingers and tried to come up with something good. Let’s start with H. Have you ever heard of vampire hedgehogs?
There was no way to hear her laugh, but I really wished I could have known if that had made her laugh.
I have not.
Just go to Vietnam to see them.
Kindly, I think I’m good.
Little friend, you’re missing out.
We went back and forth like that and my face hurt from smiling. I’d never had a bad or uninteresting conversation with her. It was remarkable. Even when we’d disagreed on things, it had been civil and we’d acknowledged the other’s point.
Melliferal and I were so different, but we understood each other in ways that made everything else not matter.
I wondered sometimes what she looked like. Exactly how old she was. It was strange, knowing so many intimate things about someone, but not knowing their face. Were her eyes blue or brown or green or something else? Was she taller? Or shorter?
Those questions were going to remain unanswered. Not after what I’d gone through with my last internet friend that I got close to. Melliferal was nothing like her, but that didn’t mean anything. People could turn on you in a second and you’d never see it coming.
I knew from experience.
Who won? Melliferal asked.
You did I answered. I almost always let her win because she got all happy and cute about it.
She sent me a bunch of flower emojis.
You always let me win.
I have no idea what you’re talking about I responded.
Yeah, sure. Ugh, I’m so tired. I think I need to shut everything down early tonight. Good mice.
I tried not to be too disappointed when I answered her.
Good mice, Mel.