10. Chapter 10
S tanding with my hands on my bare hips, I examined my options laid out on the bed.
First was a crisp, navy blue pantsuit, which I’d worn only once before, for my Bolder interview years ago.
Next to the pantsuit was a blue and yellow floral dress with a sash at the waist and a long flowy skirt that nearly reached my ankles.
And on the right was a baby blue ribbed sweater and newish jeans.
What does one wear when going to an interview at a bookstore?
Well, possibly an interview. I hadn’t even applied yet.
But I hoped that by appearing in person, I could ask to speak to the manager and sell myself as someone to hire on the spot.
Or at least as someone to interview. Surely they needed someone in some area of the store, whether working at the cash register or stocking the shelves.
Wrinkling my nose with distaste, I thought I might even agree to clean bathrooms if that’s what it took to get my foot in the door.
I was committed to finding my destiny. And I was going to do it. Today.
Bookshop was the natural place to do it. It was my favorite bookstore by far.
So I needed to dress for success, right? But I didn’t want to seem presumptuous. How silly would it be if they were hiring for cashiers and I interviewed in an expensive pantsuit? They’d never hire me .
Still, I couldn’t bring myself to go to the interview in jeans, even designer ones that fit me like a glove.
I picked up the floral dress lovingly. I didn’t wear it very often and wasn’t sure why, because it was beautiful.
My eyes swept over the soft fabric. It would be perfect for today; the choice of outfit said, “I took the time to look nice today but didn’t want to look pretentious.
” And I should know. Fashion was my thing.
Or at least it used to be. I’d barely given it a thought lately, but perhaps that was for the best, given that fashion was an expensive habit and I needed to be a little frugal.
At least until I had regular paychecks streaming in.
And with that thought, I smiled confidently and slipped the dress over my head.
It seemed looser than usual. But the dress was designed to be loose, so no one would notice but me.
I slipped into the bathroom to brush my teeth, apply my favorite cherry-red lipstick and black mascara, and brush my hair.
I studied my reflection. It was a low-effort look that seemed just right for a bookstore interview.
I flashed a brilliant smile in the mirror before turning to leave.
A short while later, walking up to the Bookshop sign with its fancy, old-style lettering carved into a dark wooden plank, I took a calming breath.
This is it. My destiny awaits .
I chuckled at my own dramatic words, drawing an amused look from an older couple walking by.
Once I’d stepped inside, I breathed in the books.
The spines, the pages, the worlds within them, the stories, the characters, the people reading them, the tall shelves on which they sat, the ladders placed strategically throughout.
Bookshop had an old-fashioned feel, with its wood floors and wood-paneled walls, many thick patterned rugs and upholstered chairs and wooden tables.
It even boasted a small European-style cafe in the corner area, with some shockingly good coffee, tea, and pastries.
Yet somehow the place didn’t feel old and dusty; it was also large and thoroughly modern at the same time.
I had no idea how they achieved that effect, but I’d love to find out.
I meandered over to the registers, lightly touching the books I passed on their special display shelves .
“Can I help you?” asked a girl who looked about thirteen years old, but she had to be older because, well, labor laws. She had jet-black hair and a bored expression, and her arm was in a cast.
“Hi, I’m Annie,” I said, flashing my winning smile. At least it was usually a win. This girl didn’t even blink.
Sigh. Teenagers.
“I’m Sai.” The girl pointed to her name tag, which read Sayaka . “Can I help you find something?”
The girl’s unblinking stare was somehow a bit unnerving. I bit my lip.
Snap out of it. She’s just a kid.
“Uh, yes. I’d like to speak to your manager.”
Sai’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
“Sorry,” I said, feeling compassion for the terrified teen. “I just realized how that sounded. Not what I meant at all. I’m here about a job. Is your manager in this morning?”
Sai’s expression transformed from fear to relief to suspicion. “ You are here about a job? What job?”
I tried to ignore the doubt in her tone.
She’s just a kid. Be professional.
“Well, to answer your question, that’s what I’d like to speak to the manager about.”
A deep voice from behind jolted me. “I’m Sai’s manager. How can I help you, Ms. …?”
I turned toward the voice. The man a few feet away from me was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a crisp button-down that made him look more corporate than bookish.
His dark skin contrasted with the pale shelves behind him, but it was the stillness in his posture that caught me—not unkind, but measured—like someone who didn’t offer trust easily, especially to strangers walking in uninvited.
“I’m Annie York. It’s great to meet you.” I stuck out my hand, and he took it with reluctance, obviously unsure what to make of me. It was time to shine . “I’m actually here to talk about how I can help your store, Mr. … ?”
His lips tightened almost imperceptibly. Perhaps he didn’t appreciate my showing up uninvited. I knew that bothered some people, as my roommates had told me repeatedly. But I was prepared. I had a secret weapon. Myself.
“Hakeem Carter. Sorry, Ms. York. We’re not currently hiring.” His voice was flat, as though the conversation were over.
I heard a scoff, and I knew it was Sai, probably gloating. Why didn’t the Bookshop staff seem to like me? Had I lost my touch? It was way too soon to give up, so I raised my chin. “Mr. Carter, I’d love to have 30 minutes of your time. Can we sit somewhere and chat?”
“I’m a busy manager, Ms. York. If you’re looking for a job selling books, perhaps try the Barnes & Noble across the street. Or Amazon.” Looking at me dismissively, he started to pivot on his heel.
“Mr. Carter, please,” I pleaded. The slight disdain in his eyes told me that I hadn’t fully succeeded in hiding my desperation. I took a deep breath. “Even 20 minutes would be nice. I could wait a bit, if you’re busy right now. I’d be happy to sit and wait.”
He observed my practiced smile and casual flipping of hair off my shoulders. But instead of feeling confident as I usually did, I got the uncomfortable feeling that he was seeing right through me now, though I didn’t know how. I was so good at this! Performing. Winning people over. Wasn’t I?
Finally, after a long silence, he nodded and said gruffly, “I’ll give you 10 minutes. I need to finish something first. Wait over at the cafe. And we don’t take loiterers, so I hope you can afford to buy a cup o’ something.”
I nodded, too fast, and smiled, this time genuinely. He was going to give me a chance! A real chance. I murmured a thank you as he turned to walk away, back toward his office presumably.
“You really impressed him,” Sai said in that flat tone. She was probably being sarcastic, but I wasn’t sure. Neither of them seemed the least impressed .
I simply smiled as best as I could manage and walked calmly toward the cafe, hoping I had enough cash in my purse for a coffee. I didn’t typically bring my credit cards everywhere, as I was too prone to overspending, usually on clothing.
Two and a half long hours later, the manager finally appeared in the cafe, catching sight of me and then strolling over to the counter, apparently to get his own coffee, or annoy me, or both.
My annoyance level was already sky-high, not only because of the ridiculous wait but also because he’d never once appeared to tell me he was delayed or to apologize.
I’d asked Sai at the register several times and even a very elderly-looking man stocking books, but neither of them knew their boss’s schedule, apparently.
The last time I’d asked, I even detected a trace of sympathy from Sai before she quickly hid it with a smirk.
As I watched him chat with and even smile at the cafe workers, I grudgingly noticed he was objectively attractive.
There was almost something a bit familiar about him, but I was probably imagining it.
Handsome jerks were a dime a dozen, and I felt not a shred of attraction as I eyed him from a distance.
Finally, he appeared before me. “You’re still here.”
I smiled and gestured to the chair across from me. If he thought he could intimidate me, he was in for a surprise. I wasn’t Jacqueline York’s daughter for nothing.
He hesitated and then sat in the chair, placing his elbows on the table. “Ms. York, you wanted to meet?”
“Yes. I know you said you’re not hiring. But I was hoping I could tell you a little about myself and what I could bring to your business, before you just dismiss me.”
“Ms. York—”
“In fact, I insist. You said I could have 10 minutes, so I’m going to use them.” This was bold, even for me. But I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this guy without being demanding. I learned long, long ago that women who didn’t stand up for themselves didn’t have a chance in this world.
He waved his hand at me and grunted. “Go on then.”