Chapter 17 The Bookstore
The Bookstore
It was amazing to me how quickly time passed.
Given I wasn’t busy, each day blurred into another.
Wednesday seemed to come around before I knew it, and then I was opening the door to the bookstore for my first shift.
The first few hours flew past, and Bob enthusiastically explained everything in minute, painstaking detail.
Things like how to use a cash register, which was really just a glorified calculator and looked as old as he was.
How to use a credit card machine, I knew of course, but he explained anyway.
How to use the computer, thankfully it was newer than the register and was as basic as putting in the name of the book, the author if you knew it, and poof!
“Just like magic,” Bob had said grinning, as if it were a thing of amazement, “the computer will tell you if we have it in stock.”
The bookstore was surprisingly busy, with an array of people filtering in and out.
Two older teenagers, a boy and a girl, caught my eye.
They roamed the aisles for a bit, stopping in the fantasy section.
Both were dressed in ripped black jeans and heavy-metal T-shirts.
The boy’s greasy black hair hung past his shoulders.
The girl’s was dyed black with a tinge of blue licking through the ends.
She wore black lipstick, which contrasted against her alabaster face, making her look like the dead summoned to life.
But it wasn’t their looks that concerned me.
It was the fact that they kept glancing up to see if I was watching them.
I was. I’d already asked them if they needed help, which the girl declined, with a balloon-sized pop of bubble gum.
Bob had slipped out to grab the ingredients to make relish, that he had explained in remarkable detail how to make.
Which, if I ever felt the urge to whip up my own batch—I wouldn’t—would be invaluable.
Aside from a few kids in the library area who were here to study, but weren’t, if their noise was any indication, and one older lady looking for a gift for her grandchild, the shop was empty.
I glanced back up as the boy slipped a book underneath his T-shirt and tucked it in.
I couldn’t understand why, if they were going to steal, they would announce their arrival by way of popping gum as they strolled casually past and spoke about how fucked up they were going to get on the weekend.
Not a fucking brain between them, as my dad would say.
There wasn’t much that annoyed me, but theft did. If they wanted something, work for it, assholes.
They ducked behind the far end of the rows of books and headed toward the door.
Seething, I marched over and cut off their great escape.
I had no clue which book the boy had under his top, but the shape on his weedy frame stuck out more than the outline of his physically challenged cock in those skinny stretch jeans.
They halted. It was either that or barge through me.
The girl ran her eyes up and down my body casually, like she was the ice queen.
The boy, king of greasy-haired cool, gave nothing away in his expression.
I knew their type; I’d met their kind a hundred times before.
They acted tough, but underneath they’d have about as much bravado as the size of the boy’s cock.
They didn’t realize they’d just met the queen of heat, albeit it was a self-awarded crown.
“I think you owe me sixty dollars before you walk out the door,” I said, looking pointedly at the rectangular shape. Sixty dollars was probably way above the cost, but fuck them, they needed the lesson.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady,” the boy answered, chomping on gum like it was made of nails. The girl smirked.
“The outline under your T-shirt says you do.”
He sneered, “Prove it.”
To prove it, I would need to wrestle the book out from under his top, which I didn’t mind doing, but I didn’t know Bob’s policy on physical assault.
The girl muttered something under her breath, it sounded like a foreign language.
Behind me, the doorbell rang, not once, but five times. I didn’t take my eyes off them.
The body smirked. “Looks like you have customers you’d better go help.”
“This is how it’s going to go. You’re going to give me sixty dollars for the book you just stole and hand it back.
Or if you protest, you’re going to give me sixty dollars and hand me back the book, and I’m going to call Matt.
Or you could refuse, of course—it’s your choice.
But you will be spending the next week using the hairs from your balls I’ve just jammed into your throat as dental floss, then I get the book, and then I call Matt. ”
Ghost girl muttered something else foreign and clenched her poltergeist hands like dead spider’s legs.
The boy smirked. A sudden, sharp pain sliced through my head, and I winced under the pressure.
For a brief moment I felt like she’d caused the pain, but that was ludicrous.
It was just a headache. The girl looked at me with a tight, perturbed expression, likely debating what to do.
The door chimed again, three more times.
The shop was filling up, and I needed to help others. I felt my temper begin to flare.
I gritted my teeth. “You’re running out of time. I’m going to count to three, then your scrotum chokes your throat.” I paused for effect, then said, “One.”
Mr. Cool smirked, but I noted he swallowed. Definitely uncomfortable. He was busy doubting his talents and wondering if I could back myself up.
“Two.”
Ghost girl glared, her lips thinning like shriveled worms. I could see her rolling the threat around in their heads, scrambling for the perfect obliterating response that would magnify their god-like coolness.
Obviously, they came up with nada, it was no surprise given they didn’t have a brain between them.
Mr. Cool yanked the book out from under his top, threw it at me, and they darted out of the store, the door ringing in their wake.
I turned around. Bob was behind the counter, and I couldn’t see any other customers. Perhaps the doorbell was faulty, or it was a hoard of kids now in the library section.
I rubbed my aching temples.
“Everything alright, Amy?” Bob asked, peering up from under his glasses, his gaze following the two fleeing teens. If Bob’s hearing was anything like his eyesight, he wouldn’t have heard me.
“Fine,” I said brightly, holding up the book. “They just decided they didn’t want it after all.”
He raised his eyebrows, which was something Dad did when he didn’t believe me, usually right after I’d lied. Keen to extract myself from the situation, I glanced up at the clock, which was still stuck.
I put the book on the counter. “Do you want me to change the batteries in the clock for you?”
Bob shook his head. “Time on a clock is irrelevant, dear. It’s making the most of the time we have that matters. Besides, it’s one hundred percent accurate twice a day.” He winked.
The door rang again. Ethan strolled in. The white T-shirt he wore clung to the outline of his toned chest muscles and stomach like a glove.
I could see why women fell for him—he was ridiculously beautiful.
He had the type of body fingers itched to graze over.
Ocean blue eyes I found myself wanting to get lost in.
Lips you wanted to reach out and touch to see if they were as soft as they looked.
Those lips curved up in the corner, and I realized I was staring; I snatched my gaze away and pretended to tidy behind the counter. Sighing, exasperated with myself for even thinking he was hot. And because, no matter where I went, he seemed to turn up.
“Amy, I didn’t know you worked here,” Ethan said, I could hear the amusement in his voice. Asshole. Reluctantly, I raised my head and gave him a tight smile.
“Ethan, nice to see you.” Bob greeted him like an old friend. “It’s Amy’s first day today.”
“I’m just returning the book.” He held up an aged brown book and headed straight past to the back of the store.
I looked at Bob, wondering why Ethan was putting his own book back.
“Ethan comes here all the time—he’s an avid reader. He’s a very intelligent young man, not that he’d let on.” He smiled after him with genuine affection in his eyes. “He’s a good boy.”
If he saw him playing “Eeny Meeny” he wouldn’t think he was such a good boy.
“He just needs to find a nice girl now to settle him down,” Bob said. There was a distinct lilt to that comment.
Now uncomfortable, I asked quickly, “Do I need to record anything?”
“No, he takes what he wants and returns it when he’s finished.
There’s no need to write anything down. He’s been like a son to me.
” His voice dropped away. “Ever since our son, Nathan, died.” He clutched hold of the countertop as if to steady himself.
His eyes traveled out the window, seeing nothing.
For a long moment, it was as if he was here physically, but lost to his grief.
“I’m so sorry, Bob.” I reached out to touch his arm in comfort. It was thin but muscular for his age and in contrast to his gray hair, his arm hair was brown and sparse.
He drew a loud, chest-filling breath and looked back.
“We lost him to a car accident, a few years back now, he was only twenty-five. We waited years to have a child, Marg and I. Finally, we were blessed with our boy.” He gave a thin smile, visibly struggling to hold in the pained pool of tears that climbed to his eyes.
“And then a few years later, our girl, Sarah. Sarah lives in Las Vegas now. You know the draw of the bright city lights and young kids.”
No, I didn’t know. I couldn’t wait to escape the city myself, but I nodded.
Bob let go of the counter and cleared his throat. “The roads here can be treacherous. Lots of people, young and old, have lost their lives on them. The cliffs drop off steeply—you need to drive very carefully, Amy.”
“I will.”
“Good girl . . .” He patted my shoulder. “Right then, if you could hold the fort for a moment, I just need to grab something from out the back.” He turned slowly, as if the memory of losing his son had suddenly aged him. He opened a door that led to an office, shutting it softly behind himself.
The headache still pinched, I reached down behind the counter, grabbed my bag, pulling out a water bottle, and a couple of Tylenol. I popped them in my mouth and swallowed as the door dinged.
A tall, slender, smartly dressed woman with thick, straight, shoulder-length brown hair walked in. She was elegant and attractive, the type of style that screamed wealth. I guessed her to be in her early fifties, and she came straight over to me.
“Hello, Amy. I’m Katrina.” She smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too.”
“Katrina.” Ethan appeared, giving Katrina the full power of his smile. He kissed her cheek, and I struggled to contain my eye roll. Were any women safe from his charms? Probably not.
“Ethan, darling, it’s so good to see you.” There was genuine affection on her face. “I just came in to officially welcome you to Church Heights,” Katrina said, directing her smile back toward me. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, please come and see me.”
Ethan must have noticed my puzzled expression. “The gorgeous Katrina Tolle is the town Mayor,” he explained.
“Ethan, it’s been too long.” She looked between the two of us. “Why don’t you and Amy come for dinner tonight?”
“We aren’t together,” I said quickly, mildly mortified.
She paused as if confused, like she fully expected we would be together. “Oh, well it doesn’t matter.” She flicked her gaze between the two of us before finally settling back on me. “Please come anyway. It would be our pleasure to have you.”
I didn’t want to go. I could tell her I was busy, except she’d know I had no friends, nowhere to go to.
“Well I, for one, would love to,” replied Ethan, looking straight at me and putting me on the spot. I could hardly say no now. I visualized kicking him in the shins, hard. Not enough to disable him, but just enough to cause some pain would be extremely satisfying.
“That would be lovely, thank you.” I directed my comment to Katrina, trying to hide the reluctance in my voice.
“Fabulous, we will see you both at, say . . .” She glanced at her gold wristwatch. “Seven thirty. Oh and ask Bob and Marg too,” she sang out with a flick of her hand as she left.
“Well,” Ethan called out over his shoulder as he headed toward the door behind her. “I’ll pick you up at seven, Happy Endings.”
“I can drive—” The ring of the door indicated he was gone. “Myself,” I muttered. Another person who knew where I lived.
“Katrina’s an exceptional woman,” Bob said, having emerged from the back room.
“She’s a kind and genuine lady—extremely popular around town.
She won the mayor race by a landslide a few years back, just after the interest rates sky rocketed, placing financial stress on half the town.
She’s worked tirelessly to get it back to its former glory, even contributing some of her family’s own finances, and she’s made some headway, but it isn’t an easy fix.
Everyone loves her and her husband, Robert.
She puts on a good spread too.” He rubbed his flat stomach.
I didn’t really want to go but couldn’t tell Bob that. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend time with him or Katrina; it was the car ride with Ethan that filled my stomach with apprehension. I sighed and set about finishing the shift.
When it was time for me to leave, Bob called out cheerfully, “See you tonight, Amy.”
Damn. Even if I knew Ethan’s number, I couldn’t really cancel now.