Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
If Penn knew I’d been sniffing around his social media, then he didn’t show it. I’d arrived at the shop the next day summoning every shred of nonchalance I could muster, in spite of my mortification still giving me the shakes. But the atmosphere was the same as ever, in terms of our distant relationship, although a completely different ballgame when it came to the footfall through my shop.
The day started with me hiding for as long as I could in the back room to avoid him bringing it up, only coming out when I heard the door jingle. The first few customers were for Penn, as usual, but then someone came in and sidled up to the desk.
A woman of about twenty-five wearing smart workwear smiled conspiratorially and said, ‘I’m looking for Jean-Luc?’
‘I think you’ll find this to your satisfaction ,’ I said, producing my hardback menu of products and placing it on the desk. She grabbed the book and started to flick through it with interest.
I’d added a few more social media posts yesterday and that morning, thinking about the awkward, whispered conversation I’d had with my first customer. I’d given people the option of ‘asking for Jean-Luc’ as code for doing their smutty shopping. I imagined Jean-Luc to be the bronzed, stubble-chinned god of all these women’s fantasies, which seemed appropriate to accompany their purchases.
She made her selection, I provided the goods and she went out happily. But not as happy as me, as I now had another 150 quid in the till and two more customers coming through the door, hand in hand.
‘Is Jean-Luc here?’ asked one of the women, older with steel-coloured hair, alongside a woman I guessed was her wife or partner, judging by their body language. I presented the book again, and they pored over it together, oohing and aahing over all the possibilities.
Penn, who was now at a loose end, was staring at my side of the shop again, his brow knitted. ‘Who’s Jean-Luc?’ he asked as I wandered near the no-man’s land at the border of our floor-spaces.
‘He’s my new silent business partner,’ I said, smiling sweetly.
He observed the two women, who were now nodding enthusiastically at each other and seemed to be writing a list on a piece of paper.
‘A silent partner? Right. And what’s that book all about?’
I rearranged a stack of paperbacks. ‘Jean-Luc is… supplying extra stock. It’s an inventory.’
‘Uh-huh.’ He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at me. ‘I’ve seen your mysterious Insta posts. What are you really up to?’
The mention of Instagram after last night made my hackles rise. I turned away before he could see the look on my face.
‘Running a highly successful business,’ I said over my shoulder and scurried away to start loading a carrier bag full of vibrators.
Over the next few days, my custom grew and grew. Christa kept coming to gawp at the stream of people – single women, couples, some men, young and old – coming in and out of the shop, discreet packages in hand. Even Sven and Arthur came in to congratulate me on the sudden upturn in my fortunes.
‘Bravo, my girl,’ said Arthur, giving me an avuncular squeeze.
‘Yes, very well done,’ agreed Sven. ‘Half of your customers have paid our shop a visit too. The same for Christa and Jake. So thank you.’
I grinned. It was all working out. My shop was doing well, I was raking in money and the other tenants were benefiting too. I prayed this would be enough to help Mike keep the place going, and to attract new tenants once Sven, Arthur and Jake vacated their units. The only person who didn’t seem to be reaping the rewards was Penn, although I suspected his moody, petulant expression at the busyness of my shop might have been putting off any potential customers crossing onto his side.
Arthur coughed politely and gave me a shy smile. ‘Now, would you mind if we made the acquaintance of your friend, Jean-Luc?’ Sven hovered by his shoulder expectantly.
‘Of course!’ I said and produced the famous book.
Five minutes later, I handed over a bag of assorted penis paraphernalia at a healthy staff discount. They went back to their shop happily, and for once I welcomed a reprieve from the flow of trade through Everything Must Go, going out back to make myself a much-needed cup of tea.
When I came out, Penn was thumbing through Jean-Luc’s brochure, his mouth hanging open.
‘What are you doing?’ I yelped, grabbing it off him.
‘I could ask you the same thing!’ His eyes glittered with poorly concealed amusement. He shook his head with mock disapproval, but there was also a hint of curiosity. Looking down, I could see the pages had flopped open to reveal a selection of multicoloured phalluses. I snapped it shut.
‘What the hell were you doing rifling through my stuff?’
‘I figured it was fair game since half of Newcastle has had a look already,’ he countered, but he had the good grace to look a little ashamed of himself.
‘I didn’t hear you ask for Jean-Luc!’ I yelled, immediately aware of how ridiculous I sounded but too angry to stop myself. And embarrassed too. There was something too close for comfort in talking about anything sexual with Penn, especially when his dark eyes were on me, trying to figure me out.
He grimaced. ‘Alright. I’m sorry for looking, but it’s been driving me mad not knowing what was going on. You can’t expect me to share a shop with you and not have any clue what kind of stuff you’re selling.’
I breathed heavily, like a dragon with smoke coming from its nostrils. ‘You had no right…’
‘I know. Like I said, I’m sorry.’ He held up his hands. ‘But I didn’t expect this. Annie, I’d never have imagined you were into all this stuff.’
‘I’m not! I mean, even if I was, that would be up to me. I’m a progressive, sex-positive woman, after all.’ I did consider myself this way, although it was irrelevant since I hadn’t had a boyfriend for ages and hadn’t dared pilfer any of my own stock as it was too valuable. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’
‘I know more than you realise,’ he said, holding my gaze, and I remembered my Instagram gaffe again. If he was implying what I thought he might be, I needed to cut that conversation off at the pass.
‘Anyway, what I sell in my shop is a business decision, not just a personal one. I can’t help it if my side is busier than yours.’
He paused for a moment then laughed. ‘Listen, I’m sure you are a sex-positive woman.’
My eyes widened and my cheeks flamed, despite my loudly proclaimed progressiveness.
‘And…’ he continued in a surprisingly light-hearted tone, ‘I don’t begrudge you doing well, even if it does mean I’m being overlooked by the parade of perverts trooping through your shop.’ He smirked, shaking his head. ‘But when it comes to the whole vibe of the shop, it’s not…’
‘ In keeping ?’ I finished. I was lost for words for a moment. In spite of his attempt at levity, yet again the deeper meaning won out. It always seemed to come back to me being the lesser of us.
Instead of trying to find a snappy response, all the energy seemed to seep out of me.
‘Penn, I’m tired of this,’ I said, my shoulders sagging. ‘I don’t think we’re ever going to see eye to eye. So can we just agree to stick to our own side of the shop and sell our own stuff without speaking to each other unless strictly necessary?’
He tensed, any vague attempt at humour fading. ‘Fine with me,’ he said quietly and turned his back on me, the muscles in his shoulders tensing against the fabric of his T-shirt.
I sat down, shaking, and tucked Jean-Luc away. Arguments always made me want to cry with frustration, not just anger, and that set-to had already made my throat start to feel thick. For some reason, out of all the rows we’d had, this one had burrowed deeper under my skin.
Why did it have to be him working here? Snooty, snobby, sexually-stunted Peregrine, looking down on my shop and me . I’d rarely felt so judged. But there was a small part of me that felt I could never just accept complete annihilation of a relationship, of any kind. All my bravado, telling him to stay out of my way, had come out of my embarrassment and exhaustion with this ongoing tension. But I hated feeling this divide coming down between our shops, like a flotilla of ice across the water.
A customer came in, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Penn look up hopefully. But he slumped back onto his chair when the well-dressed woman in her forties made a beeline for my desk, already reaching for her purse. I felt an involuntary pang of guilt. I was pained to realise he had a point when he said that his customers were being put off by the hoopla in my shop.
As I rang up the woman’s purchases – some very fine fluffy handcuffs and three pairs of crotchless knickers – I paused, biting my lip.
‘You know,’ I said, while handing over her change, ‘I think the guy in the music section over there has a few Barry White albums… to set the mood?’
She nodded then walked over to speak to Penn. I heard her say that her husband was into vinyl and he had a player, so he talked her into buying a Barry White as well as a Fleetwood Mac for her husband’s collection. She went out smiling, and the door clicked shut, leaving us in silence.
After a moment, Penn spoke. ‘I know I’m not supposed to talk to you. But thank you.’
I gave him one nod, my face as poker straight as his, then we both picked up our phones and pretended to be busy.
Later that day, after a steady, almost exhausting stream of Jean-Luc’s callers, I stood at the desk counting my cash again. I could hardly believe the difference since those first days where the cash tin looked like a five-year-old’s piggy bank. Even the sales on the day of my special event couldn’t compare to the pile of money I had now, as well as the healthy sum that glowed on my banking app screen.
I was just about to close up when a customer came through the door, a girl who looked to be in her early twenties with swingy auburn hair and horn-rimmed glasses. She gave me a brief smile and then looked around, picking up various things, examining them and putting them back. Hovering over the romantic novels, she thumbed through a few of them, seeming uncertain.
‘Can I help at all?’ I asked. ‘I can recommend some books if you’re after anything in particular.’
She looked uncertainly at the paperbacks again and whispered, ‘Actually… do you have anything a bit… spicier?’ She giggled nervously.
‘Of course! In fact, I’ve a copy of something you might enjoy very much over here.’ I gave her a reassuring smile and led her to the counter, then handed her the book. She seemed to loosen up a little and smiled meekly as she turned the pages. I gave her some privacy. She seemed sweet, like a kid in the old days, walking up to the chemist’s counter for condoms then bailing and asking for toothpaste instead.
She took her time, and I was starting to wonder if she’d be here all night when she coughed to get my attention.
‘Would you recommend this one?’ she asked, pointing to a demure-looking cylindrical vibrator.
‘Absolutely. It comes with a lovely storage case that actually looks like something you’d keep your glasses in. Very discreet.’
She visibly relaxed. ‘I’ll take one, please.’
I went to the back room and packaged it up in the usual unmarked bag and brought it out to her. She was looking across at Penn, who was throwing his messenger bag over his shoulder. He nodded at us both as he left.
‘It’s funny,’ she said. ‘Having a record shop in the same room as… well, one of these kinds of shops. How did you end up with this arrangement?’
‘Pure chance,’ I said. Then, feeling the strain of mine and Penn’s constant bickering, I found myself adding, ‘And sometimes it does feel like a funny arrangement. We don’t have a lot in common.’
‘I can imagine. At university, I live with a girl who keeps birds in her room. Cages full of them. I don’t know what’s worse, the noise or the smell.’
‘ That I can identify with too,’ I said, grinning. ‘Where are you studying?’
‘Warwick. I’m home for Christmas.’
‘A nice break from the menagerie then. Well, I hope you have a lovely Christmas.’
She picked up her package. ‘You too! Although I’d imagine you’ll be very busy until then, with this stuff being so popular.’
‘Like you wouldn’t believe. The shop’s been heaving with people wanting to give themselves a festive treat.’
‘You’re like a smutty Santa,’ she said, laughing, and I did the same, feeling a little surprised at the change in how comfortable she was with all this. ‘Anyway, I’ll let you get on,’ she said.
I smiled. ‘Lovely to meet you, and enjoy the rest of your holidays.’
‘Thanks, I will, although I’ll likely be bored to tears. Most of my friends are away.’ She shrugged and headed for the door, pausing to look at the selection of gardening equipment. I had masses of the stuff, enough boxes to rival the Liaison range, but what I knew about gardening you could write on the surface of a love egg.
‘Is this seed propagator fully electric, or does it come with a heat mat?’ she asked.
I grimaced, knowing I would be of little help.
‘Sorry,’ she said, slightly flustered. ‘You’re closing up; I’ll come back another day.’
‘No!’ I said, deciding a later finish would be worth a bird in the hand. ‘Not at all. But, to be honest, I’ve no idea. Gardening isn’t my strong suit.’
‘Oh, I love gardening,’ she said, upturning the box. ‘It is fully electric. I’ll take it, if that’s okay?’ She then grabbed up some seeds, twine and an unidentifiable gadget that looked like a miniature scythe. ‘These too, please.’
‘Of course!’ I rang up her purchases.
‘You know, you should really charge more for these,’ she said, holding up the little scythe. ‘It’s a Japanese razor hoe – they normally go for ten pounds more than this.’
‘Really? Well, thanks for the tip.’
‘No problem. I feel like I should give you more money for it.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said, grinning. Then something occurred to me. I knew absolutely nothing about the gardening stock and was clearly undercharging. What if I could get a little help with that, not to mention lightening my load in general? Now the shop was doing so well I could afford it, and it sounded like this woman was at a loose end for the holidays…
‘What’s your name?’ I asked.
‘Olivia.’
‘Okay, Olivia. I could probably do with some help on my busier days. I could definitely do with someone who knows their stuff about the gardening gear, and as long as you don’t mind wrapping up the odd pair of edible knickers, I could offer you a part-time job?’
She looked at me with her mouth slightly open and then smiled. ‘Of course I don’t mind! I’d be a kind of Erotica Elf to your Smutty Santa. When can I start?’