9. Adaline
Contrary to most of the planet’s population, I love Mondays.
Truly love them.
Monday’s are the one day a week I request off in my schedule. Some productioncompanies argue it for a while, before realising that they’d rather keep Adaline Moore in their movie and not have her one day a week, than not have her at all.
But Sebastian, as expected, was a saint about it. He told me that he shared a peculiar lovefor Mondays, too, meaning my Mondays for the next four months were solely mine. I practically floated out of bed this morning when I remembered what today was, like Tinkerbell had snuck into my apartment during the night and poured buckets and buckets of pixie dust all over me.
Growing up, Mondays were my least favourite days. It meant the start of a new week.And where that day should have been full of childlike wonderment and optimism, it had been replaced by a too-mature-for-my-age mindset and already knowing I’d hate that week more than the last.
Sure enough, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that this time would bedifferent… that week would be a blur of audition rooms, long drives and late nights. Of course, as he was only next door, Nate would find ways to cheer me up and brighten up the week, because he was sweet like that. He’d throw stones up at my attic window whenever I came home, we’d hideaway in the cover of the cherry blossom bushes in his backyard and he’d make me tell him everything, so I wouldn’t keep it locked away in my mind.
But I’m not thinking about him right now. I don’t want to.
Like I said, Mondays were all mine.
So now, Mondays were my day to do what I wanted. To start the week how I wanted. To not goby anyone else’s schedule but my own. I think it’s what keeps me from spiralling, to be honest. I’m pretty sure without these days, without the weird sense of freedom that took over my body the second midnight rolled around, I’d have more time to dwell on how in denial I am about my job, how much I lie about loving it.
But those thoughts weren’t for my Monday. I had better plans.
After reading a chapter or two of whatever smutty sensation was invading my nightstand, I scrolled through my go-to playlist and picked out the songs I wanted to soundtrack my morning. It was usually something country, the occasional Taylor Swift song that ignites my love for being a woman, and plenty of Dolly Parton. Whatever it was, it was loud enough to drown out the native New York sounds that still managed to sneak through the cracks in the window.
Tiptoeing, I made my way over to my vanity, being careful not to let my feet feel the coldof the hardwood floor, before falling into the spinny chair I kept here and losing myself in my reflection. All the while belting out whatever song has come on shuffle. Right now, it was the Carrie Underwood song that I’d memorised after what happened with Nate.
I don’t know what it was about country music that made me feel a certain type of way. Itvery well could have been the fact that I may or may not have been through a phase where I wanted to be a cowgirl after playing one in an indie movie a few years back.
Which may have led me to write a cowboy romance novel too.
Don’t judge me.You know you want to read it.
Running a brush through my hair, I let my mouth curve into an unconscious smile,internally thanking my Sunday self for washing it. The skin care ritual I’d done the night before made my make-up glide on with ease, my pearly skin glowing underneath. I finish it off with a lipgloss of gold and pink shimmer, the one that catches the light in the prettiest way when the sun finds me.
I twist my hair into a claw clip before skipping towards my closet, pulling the door openand marvelling at endless choices.
The outfits were arguably the most important part of my Monday’s. It’s true what theysay—that there is no better motivator than a good outfit. A cute outfit. An outfit I’d see on another woman and think, ‘Boy, has she got her shit together’. So with that goal in mind, and a glance out the window and seeing a whisper of sunlight and a speck of blue up in the sky, I opt for a pair of light wash jeans, ones that are frayed on the edges and hug my thick thighs nicely, a baby yellow lace hem cami, one that shows just the tops of my double D’s, a chunky white cardigan over the top and a matching pair of baby yellow Mary Janes.
If I saw me walking down the street, I’d think I had my shit together.
As for the activities for the day? Well… that’s the best part.
Because New York is just a constant hotbed of tourists, there’ll never truly be a day whenall the streets are clear and I can walk them freely without being stopped or spotted three times a minute, but after being a city veteran for almost seven years now, you learn things, and I’ve found that Mondays tend to be the quietest days.
But if I’m honest, once you’ve experienced a December in New York, where the crowdsfeel purposefully large and you can’t move without twenty people stepping on your shoes at once, the months that follow always feel clearer, and calmer.
I leave my apartment building, saying a quick goodbye to Robbie, the nicest securityguard in history, before stretching my headphones over my head, making sure the usual swarm of paparazzi that like to conjure here are nowhere to be seen and jumping straight back into my playlist.
The first stop on my list is Flo’s, naturally. I slip through the doors ten minutes beforeopening for my weekly catchup with my best friend, also saying hello to Cora and Rory, who still freak out every time they see me, and leaving a few minutes later with a custard tart and coffee.
With my breakfast devoured and iced latte in hand, I make headway for my second stopof the day. It’s a relatively new stop on my Monday journey. It’s about a ten-minute walk from Flo’s to the new spicy book store that opened on Lexington Avenue, and because it was so new, the foot traffic outside there is never enough that I get spotted. I feel the rush of gratitude tingle down my spine when I remember that, my eyes lapping up the empty sidewalk.
I could do without making the headline of every gossip site and newspaper in the world,one that read;
Actress, Adaline Moore, Has Been Spotted Getting Her Fix Of Steamy Books From Dedicated Erotic Bookstore In New York.
Yeah. No thanks.
And because the owner, Josephine, is an absolute doll, she closes off the store for me, justin case my nightmare comes to life and someone with a camera and online influence sees me here.
Not that I’m ashamed to read books like this. I love it. I write them for crying out loud.And I’ve showcased what I’m reading on my socials more than enough times to know my fans love it when I share stuff like that. I just think a picture of me leaving here with a handful of smutty fantasy and erotic cowboy novels would be enough to make me never show my face in the world, or to the people I know, again.
The bell above the door chimes as I walk in, the sound bouncing off the bookshelves and waking up thesleeping Josephine, who I can see and hear snoring behind the counter, her head embedded between her folded arms.
She jolts up once the bell chime reaches her ears, eyes all wide and mouth gaped. “Oh,Adaline!” she stretches. “How lovely to see you.” Her yawn blankets her words, but her deep-rooted New York accent still comes through and warms me like a hug.
“Late night?” I ask her, closing the door behind me and heading straight for the newreleases table.
I can bet you that the ones with the pastel pink covers and deceiving titles will be thefilthiest. Always the way.
“You could say that. I had a break-in at my other store in Midtown.” My head whipped upfrom the blurb I was reading. “I’ve been up all night with the cops doing paperwork and all other sorts of crap.” She yawns again, dog-earing the page she had her head resting on a few seconds ago and placing it to one side.
“Oh my God, are you okay? Is the store okay?” I ask, my voice all shaky.
“Oh, honey, of course I am. We lost some cash from the register, around a thousand bucksor so, but whoever it was took a tote bag with the store’s logo on to put it all in. And you know what, I don’t see a robbery. Because you know what I see?”
The grin on her face should not be on the face of a woman describing a break-in. “What?” I entertain her, the corners of my mouth already rising.
Her head starts rolling back as a laugh escapes her throat, before she yells, “Freeadvertising!” and her cackle deepens.
I let a laugh leave me too, just in pure admiration of her. This woman just got robbed, andshe’s laughing about it. Not because the money doesn’t mean anything to her, I’m sure it does, but she’s taking something horrible and still seeing the good in it.
Another one of the reasons I’m so happy Flo introduced me to JoJo when she did.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Glad your stores are okay too.” I say, picking up the bookwith the pink cover and heading over to another shelf of smut.
“To be honest with you, Adaline, I’m just glad it wasn’t this one. I’ve always wanted toopen a store like this, and when I’d finally saved enough for a year’s rent on this place, I said, fuck it! I’ll open up a sexy bookstore and turn it into a safe space to pick up some forbidden romance and have a glass of wine while you do.”
Oh yeah, did I mention this was a boozy bookstore as well? Perhaps that was why it wasMonday approved too.
“I have to say, I’m kinda glad about that too.”
She rounds the cash desk and gallops over to me, the strong scent of mint and cinnamonfollowing her as she does. “Find anything you fancy?” she asks, tipping the glass of rosè in her hand that I’ve only just noticed up to her mouth.
I tilt my head to the left a little and catch the time on the big grandfather clock behind herregister, before looking down at her now empty glass. “It’s half past ten in the morning.”
“I just told you this was a safe space, young lady.” She hisses with a smile on her face,before peaking at the book in my hands. “You know those are the filthiest, right?”
“Why do you think they”re in my hands?”
I hear her hoo as she walks away, rounding the corner and into the back, emerging not tenseconds later with a refill of wine. “Not a word from you,” she glares at me, eyes squinted, but a big, cheesy smile still perfectly positioned on her face.
The room falls quiet after that, I wander around some more shelves, pick up a book thatlooks like it’s been banned in thirty countries purely from the front cover and put it straight into the wicker basket JoJo handed me a few seconds ago, and sip away on my now watery latte.
But if there was one thing I’d discovered about JoJo… it was that there was only so much time she could let slip by without the prying grandma side of her taking over.
“How’s the boy?” She asks, peering over the top of her glass.
I knew this was coming. Too much silence has made her remember that the last time Iwas here, I may have gotten tipsy and blabbed about mine and Nate’s history.
“I think he’s fine.” I lift my head away from the blurb I’m reading and meet her stare. “Seemed fine when I saw him at filming last week.” A lie. I have no idea what NatePatricks is ever feeling anymore. Apart from when he’s anxious, I could always spot that in him; it turns out I still can.
“Liar,” she shouts after a few beats, her nose fully in the air.
I turn on my heels to face her knowing stare. “I am not a liar, JoJo. I really haven’t seenhim that much, nor spoken to him enough to know how he’s really doing.”
She stares down into her wine as she twiddles the stem between her fingers. “From whatyou’ve told me, it sounds like he’s trying to… I don’t know… patch things up?”
I assume from the half of the blurb I read that the book will be amazing and sling it in mybasket, my eyes staying on JoJo. “He signed a contract for a movie where he’ll earn millions of dollars, I’d hardly say he’s doing it for me, or for us. We’ve barely spoken, which doesn’t convince me that suddenly means he’s ready to have the big talk about why he never showed up—”
My heart falls to my toes when I hear the bell above the door chime, so much so that Inearly drop the basket of forbidden novels I was clinging to. And as my eyes dart towards the one person whom I’d never expected to see in an erotic bookstore, I dream up the idea of JoJo installing a trap door to swallow me up for situations like this.
“Jacob?”
“Oh, Addy, hey…” Jacob’s wide eyes flick between me and JoJo, a sidelong glance ofdisbelief that I was here. I was sure I was giving him the same look.I watched as his handsome smile faltered. “What are you doing here?”
I felt my cheeks colour the same shade of pink that was painted on Jacob’s sweater,before a casual shrug rolled through my shoulders. “I’d love to know the same thing; why are you in a smutty bookstore?” I ask, barely containing the smile on my face. “Is this something I should tell Flo about?”
He drops his head, his eyes squeezing shut and giggling like he always does, before ourheads speed around towards JoJo as she shouts, “Hold the phone, you two ducks know each other?” Her eyes are just as wide as Jacob”s, although there’s still a big smile stretched across her face.
I tackled her questions for us. “I’ve known Jacob for years. He was in the Defendersmovies with me. His girlfriend is my best friend.” I turn to Jacob. “How do you know JoJo?”
He shuts the door behind him, the floorboards creaking under his strides as he headstowards the cash desk with a white envelope in his hands. “Oh, I’ve known this one for years. When I was twenty-one, and my auditions were drying up, she gave me part-time hours here to help me get by.” he smiles over to JoJo. “Been stuck with me ever since, haven’t ya?”
A sweet chuckle comes from JoJo, a matching one leaving Jacob before his head flicksback to me. “What about you?”
Before I can say anything, JoJo pipes up, after taking a big gulp of her wine. “This onestumbled into the store around three months ago, I recognised that head of hair and bright smile straight away. She’s now my favourite customer… and actress.”
“Ha, go figure.” Jacobs laughs out, his staggering body effortlessly leaning against thebookshelf behind him.
I can tell why Flo is head over heels for him. I think I was the first time I met him. But Inever felt a spark with him, not in the way that I know Flo does, and I’m positive that he feels the same way. I can’t help but smile at that thought, beyond glad about our friendship, knowing that I couldn’t picture him as anything else.
“Anyway, I just came to drop this off for you,” he says to JoJo, handing her the envelopein his hands. “And while you’re here, Addy, I have a question for you.”
I make my way over to the cash desk and place the basket down by my feet, the room lighting up as I turn to face Jacob”s knowing smile. “Yeah?”
“Me and Flo were kind of thinking about throwing a dinner party for Nate on Saturday. Itwould be at our place, you know, Nate and celebrating his birthday in public. So I was thinking—”
My ears didn’t pick up on anything else that left Jacob’s mouth, my mind was too busyrepeating the words that made my stomach drop six feet under, and the sudden pain in my chest got tighter, like it had been wrapped in itchy silk and knotted in a bow.
Dinner party.
Nate’s birthday.
Saturday.
“—Does that sound okay?”
I bring my eyes back into focus, scanning every part of his confused smile. I shake myhead at him, the dizziness pooling in my brain. “Sorry, just repeat that last part.”
“Saturday, eight o’clock, our apartment. Does that sound okay?”
I throw a smile on my face. “Oh, yeah, that sounds great. Perfect.” I keep our eyes fixed,the fog of unasked questions smudging the rich brown that lived in his. I tilt my head. “What is it?”
Before he can even mutter his name, I know what’s coming.
The Nate Lecture.
I’ve learned over the years when it’s about to happen. He’llsuck in a breath and fold his arms over his chest, then he’ll try his hardest to contain his ever-growing smile and fail miserably, all while narrowing his eyes, which, if anything, comes across more seductive than it does stern.
“Will you two please, for the love of God, not argue,”
My eyes roll. “You say that like we have full-blown fights at every social event we attendtogether. You know that we keep each other at arm’s length when we’re around you guys, and it’s not like we’ve ever really argued—”
The words caught in my throat, knowing that if I finished my sentence, it would be nothingbut a plain lie.
I see the moment Jacob remembers too, his subtly stern brown eyes warning me,reminding me, that what happened last year at the wrap party should have never happened. Nor should it happen again.
“I know,” he mutters, his head jesting to the side before meeting my eyes again. “I wish Icould forget about what happened too, but…”
I sink my head, too afraid to meet his eyes, as I mutter back,“I know. I’ll be on my best behaviour. Girl Scouts honour.”
Before I can reluctantly lift my head up, a mask of shame and pure embarrassmentcementing my face, Jacob’s arms wrap around me and pull me in for a hug. I know he hated seeing that, me and Nate screaming our lungs out at each other and crying our hearts out. He’s our best friend. He didn’t need that.
A grateful pang knocks on my heart, not knowing what would’ve happened if he hadn’tbeen there, stepping between us before one of us said, or did, something that would have had us existing in more than just silence.
After a few seconds of savouring the warmth from Jacob’s chest, he lets go of me, hishands falling to my shoulders. “Okay, go get yourself an outfit, squeeze a trip down Fifth into this Monday schedule of yours, and I’ll see you on Saturday… okay?” he says, with that signature smile and dimples that are cute enough for even me to admit they are.
“Okay.” I smile back at him, before the clanging chime from JoJo’s wine glass on thesolid oak cash desk rattles around the room.
“Jacob Henry Emerson, what the hell is this?!”
We both twist our heads to JoJo, who looks like she’s seen a ghost, with the whiteenvelope in her hand and a face as pink as the wine she just put down.
“That’s my cue to run.” Jacob rushes out, dipping down to plant a peck on the crown ofmy head before running between the book tables and fleeing out the door, calling out, ”See you Saturday, Add”s.” as he does.
Ignoring that reminder of what was waiting for me at the end of this week, I turn back to JoJo, both incredibly curious and slightly scared to find out what warrantedher calling Jacob by his full name. “What is it?”
She drops the envelope down on the counter and takes the last gulp of her wine, beforeeyeing me and saying with all seriousness. “I’m going to kill that boy.” With her bottom lip wedged between her teeth, she waltzes off into the back for what I can assume will be another refill.
After watching her leave, my eyes drift down to the open envelope, my eyes softeningand my heart aching for how sweet that boy is when it registers in my head that he left her a check for $2000 dollars.
I pick up the pile of papers, a note falling from between them as I do. I don’t bother toraise my hand over my mouth to cover my smile, and soon enough, a laugh erupts out of me once I read it.
One thousand to replace the stolen one, and another for being so cool.
That was another reason why I loved my Mondays; although I know their routine by now,down to the second, they still manage to surprise me.
.