The Indie – Summer
THE INDIE
SUMMER
Itucked a brand-new copy of How to Learn Voodoo into my purse the moment I got to work Thursday night.
I’ll return it once I’ve read it…
“Hey Summer, look!” Paul waved me over to his row. “Come here!”
I forced a smile and walked over, and he pulled out his phone.
“I may have to start reading books now.” He showed me a TikTok video of beautiful influencers hanging out in Sinclair Books.
I seethed as I watched, even though I’d personally witnessed the “Sorority Girls Day” sale days ago from my window. I’d also watched every dime of “breathing room” in my account slowly dissipate.
There was no comma anymore.
“I’ll be in fantasy if you need me.” I patted Paul’s shoulder. “I need to get caught up.”
I walked away and buried myself in the work.
When I was on my seventh box of Lord of the Rings, a pair of Italian leather shoes stepped into my view.
I looked up to see Adrian holding out a cup toward me.
“Can we talk for a second?” he asked.
“No.”
“It’s about business.”
“You mean, crushing mine?” I stood up. “You’re doing one hell of a job. You should be proud.”
“I was actually going to give you some friendly advice.”
“What?” I shrugged. “Roll over and just let you fuck me?”
“I said business advice, Miss Connors.” He stepped closer. “Not bedroom.”
I said nothing.
I waited for him to spew whatever he had to say, but he just stared at me in a way that sent butterflies fluttering in my chest. A way that almost made me forget he was the source of my biggest problem right now.
“Can you hurry up, so you can leave me?” I managed. “I don’t function well when you’re around.”
“Same…” He cleared his throat, but no new words fell from his lips.
I picked up a box and carried it over to a shipping station.
He followed me and leaned against a shelf.
“Okay, look,” he said, rubbing his temple, “I noticed you recently switched to my warehouse for getting your books.”
“Let me guess.” My stomach knotted. “You’re about to go up on the price?”
“I’m going to give you a bigger discount than I give to everyone else.”
“Forty percent off is already decent.”
“I think you deserve ninety.”
I froze. “I’m still not going out with you… It’s a conflict of interest.”
“I’ve accepted that,” he said, smiling faintly. “But you have to start sending books back to publishers when they don’t sell after a certain window. I noticed from your application that you tend to hold on to them for too long, and it’s costing you a lot of money.”
“I try to keep as many books on the shelf as possible,” I admitted.
“I know,” he said. “But you can't afford to keep everything that doesn't sell. Watch the margins as much as possible—or else some other store will.”
“Thank you for that condescending footnote.” I picked up a stapler. “You can go now.”
“I’m just pointing out that this is basic Business 101 and financial sense,” he said. “It’s something you should’ve learned on day one in college.”
“What makes you think I went to college?” I looked at him.
“Didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Your bio on your website says—”
“It says I was accepted.” My heart ached. “And I was—into Yale, where I was planning to double major in business and writing, but guess what, Mr. I-Know-Everything-About-Books Sinclair?”
He didn’t answer.
“My parents passed away during my move-in week, and I had to drop out.” My voice cracked. “I didn’t get to ‘day one’ of business school at all because it made more ‘financial sense’ for me to go home and take care of my younger sister.”
His eyes met mine, and he looked as if I’d struck him across the face.
“So, I’m sorry,” I said, shrugging. “I’m so sorry that I’m just naive as hell for having the audacity to open the little bookstore of my dreams instead of becoming a billionaire thanks to my trust fund and wealthy-ass parents like you.”
“Summer, look—”
“At what?” I glared at him. “I think I’ve stared at the person who’s hell-bent on ruining everything I’ve built for long enough.”
I moved past him, brushing against his shoulder as I stormed out of the warehouse.
I didn’t bother clocking out or turning in my badge.
Not looking back to see if he’d followed, I slid behind the wheel of Jenny’s car and sped away.