Chapter 3 #2
“Don’t talk while you sign. You know you can’t multitask like that,” I warned.
George smacked his scooter into a shelf at the front of the store, sending several books plummeting to the floor. “Clean up on aisle three,” he barked, then wheezed out a cackle at his own joke.
Chevy gestured for me to take over flapping books for him while he went to right the damage.
“I’m just happy to be writing again. Can we not worry about the launch or the numbers?” Hazel asked, sliding a completed stack of signed paperbacks to the side.
“Lady buddy. Gal pal,” I said, opening Hazel’s next book to the signing page.
“You stay focused on writing the best words ever, and I’ll do the dirty work.
That’s the way this relationship works best. You keep your pretty little head in the creativity clouds and let me make deals with the devil to secure your success. ”
“Uh-huh. In this case, is Chevy the devil?” Hazel asked.
The man in question made finger horns atop his head.
The bell on the door jangled, sending Meetcute into a rabid fit of barking. He made a mad dash for the newcomer.
“Meetcute! Stay!” Hazel ordered. But the little dog was too excited to listen.
I dove for the end of the leash. We got tangled up around the legs of the stool and sent it crashing to the floor and into a display of used Sweet Valley High books.
Teenage mayor and cross-country star Darius Oglethorpe bounded inside. “Just the woman I was looking for,” he said, sounding not surprised to find me on the floor.
“Me?” I asked, spitting out some of Meetcute’s fur. The dog turned to lavish my face with exuberant, smelly dog kisses. “Ugh.” I groaned.
Meetcute pressed his cold, wet nose into my neck and made a happy snuffling sound. I patted his back awkwardly.
“Sorry about my dog. He attacks with love. And at least he didn’t pee in excitement this time,” Hazel called cheerfully.
I held the twenty pounds of licky fur away from my chest and checked the front of my clothes to be sure. “Thank God.” I put the dog down and shooed him back in the direction of his mother. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” I asked Darius.
He held out a hand and hauled me to my feet. He was a tall, gangly teen with limbs like a colt that had earned him most of the school’s cross-country records. He also happened to be a bit of a genius. “I have a free period. Principal Sprout lets me use it for mayoral business.”
“What brings you to the bookstore, mayorally speaking?” I asked, brushing the dog hair off my tights. My outfit was not holding up well today.
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “First of all, I heard about your run-in with Goose and wanted to apologize on behalf of the town. I hope you don’t think that this unfortunate incident is indicative of all wildlife experiences in Story Lake.”
“Damn that Garland and his gigantic mouth,” I muttered. “I’m fine. It was horrifying and emotionally scarring, but I’m sure I’ll recover.” It was what I did. Bouncing back was an art, and I was the artist.
Darius beamed at me. “Wonderful. On behalf of the town, please accept this ten-dollar apology coupon good for a pontoon party boat lake cruise on the Tiki Barge.”
“Didn’t that pontoon boat sink last summer?
” The neighboring town had managed to sabotage Story Lake’s summer festival and sent a pontoon boat full of senior citizens to the lake bottom.
Fortunately for all involved, the lake depth was only about four feet, and the passengers had enjoyed their refreshing swim back to shore.
“What a great memory you have. Yes, the party barge did receive a bit of water damage, but it should be afloat and good as new next month. June tops.”
“I’ll be sure to put it in my calendar,” I said as I pocketed the coupon.
My fingers came into contact with another piece of paper, and I pulled it out.
It was my missing Christmas shopping list. Damn it!
The Le Creuset casserole dish would have been perfect for Hazel instead of the intensely pine-scented bath set I settled for on Christmas Eve.
Darius clapped his hands. “Awesome. Now on to my next item of business. Hazel mentioned that among your literary agent duties, you’ve also dabbled on the promotion side of things as an unofficial publicist.”
“She did, did she?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know you’re also my publicist,” Hazel called from her table. “You organized that entire European book tour.”
“The one where we both got the flu and a pickpocket stole my passport?” I reminded her.
She pointed her pen at me. “That’s the one. You still managed to thrill six foreign publishers and get us home in one piece.”
“I’d like to offer you a job,” Darius announced.
I blinked. “Huh? Who? Me?”
He chuckled like I’d just told the punch line of a dad joke. “Yes, you.”
I wondered if the stress of chasing valedictorian, leading the cross-country team, and running a town that had recently flirted with a sewer-related bankruptcy was getting to the kid. “Um, I’m flattered, but I already have a job. Literary agent to the diva back there singing to her dog.”
Hazel was singing “Our Song” by Taylor Swift to an ecstatic Meetcute.
I was more of an “Anti-Hero” girl.
“Of course, of course,” Darius said placatingly. “I meant a part-time gig for the town. I’d like to hire you to work a few hours a week as the town’s publicist. We’re coming into prime tourism season, and I want to show Dominion that we mean business.”
Dominion was the neighboring town with a bustling year-round tourism business and year-round attitude problem.
Their mayor had most recently tried to force Story Lake into giving up its town charter by turning one of our own town council members against us.
Emilie Rump still lived in town and was bravely paying the price for her treason.
I patted him on the shoulder. “Are you too nice to say you want to kick Dominion’s ass?”
He winced. “Yes. Please don’t think less of me.”
“Darius, my friend, you are talking to the queen of vengeance. I live for a good grudge.”
“It’s true,” Hazel called out. “She still hates the girl in our fifth-grade class who reminded the teacher that he hadn’t assigned any homework yet a minute before we were dismissed on a Friday.”
“Fucking Gwendolyn Murphy,” I hissed at the memory.
“Dominion tried to ruin our town. They tried to turn us into some loud, polluted spring break annex. I want them to pay. I want to hit them where it hurts. I want to make them rue the day they ever tried to mess with Story Lake!” Darius shook his fist at the ceiling.
“I like this side of you, boy genius. How exactly can I help?”
“The town needs someone who can work on convincing tourists that Story Lake is where they want to spend their summer vacation. We’re already seeing a bump thanks to the retirement community opening and, of course, our famous resident romance novelist,” he continued.
“That’s me. He’s talking about me,” Hazel sang. Meetcute barked his agreement.
“But we need more. We need a concentrated effort to get people to come here and willingly spend their money, preferably all year round,” Darius continued.
“I’ll be back in New York by the fall.” Dear Lord, please, I added in my head. “I might be willing to help you with the spring and summer tourist seasons. But you should know, I’m an agent, not an actual publicist.”
“Don’t listen to her, Darius,” Hazel called from her table. “She’s done my publicity for years. She’s perfect for what you need.”
I’d never been perfect for anything anyone ever needed.
“Excellent,” Darius said. “There’s a salary. A small one.”
I crossed my arms. “Keep talking.”
He glanced around the store and then handed over a folded gum wrapper as if it were his great-grandma’s prized chili recipe.
The number was less than I’d made selling soft pretzels at the mall in college. But given my current situation, every cent counted.
“I know it’s not much,” he said quickly. “But it’s all the budget could afford. Keep in mind, you’ll be providing a much-needed service to the good people of Story Lake. And you get an unlimited supply of special town merch like this.”
He produced a postcard from his backpack with a flourish.
It was an illustration of the town’s welcome sign with a convertible smashed into it. A cartoon Goose was perched on top of the car with a fish in his beak. Welcome to Story Lake.
“You commemorated our arrival. That’s hilariously sweet.”
“The high school marketing and graphic design club takes their inspiration from real life. You and Hazel are the best things to happen to Story Lake since Dave Matthews’s tour bus broke down here in 2013.”
“What is it exactly that you want me to do?” I asked.
Darius pressed his palms together. “I want you to work with the council and local businesses to bring more people here. The more tourists we get, the more people fall in love with our beautiful town, the more folks move here and pay property taxes. We can upgrade the sewage treatment plant, build pickleball courts, and make our downtown and lakefront irresistible. And then we can rub our success in Dominion’s face! ”
I liked Story Lake. I mean, I didn’t want to live here permanently, but it was cute and quirky. It reminded me of me. More importantly, I needed the money.
“Okay.”
“Okay, like okay okay?” Darius asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do this. Do we shake on it or sign a contract?”
“We solemnly high-five,” he said, holding up his hand.
“We what?”
He grinned. “I’m just kidding. I have a contract with me.” He reached into his backpack again and pulled out a thin stack of papers.
“Better have a lawyer look at that,” Hazel called.
“I’m sure Gage would be happy to answer any questions,” Darius said, glancing at his smartwatch. “I have to get back for chemistry.”
“I’ll walk you out,” I said, slipping my arm through his. “So, Darius. Is this like a biweekly-direct-deposit thing or a lump-sum-up-front?”