Charlotte
“I know Thelma, I know you’re starving,” I croon to the cat after she meows at me for a second time. She whines at me again, increasing the volume of her cry. “Give me a minute to finish this, and then I’ll go up and feed you.”
I’m about to close the shop after a busy Sunday afternoon, but in addition to closing out the register and the physical store, I’m trying to get a head on inventory before the month ends.
These are the times that I miss Dad. We’d open a bottle of wine and do the accounting together on a Sunday night after the store closed.
But we never actually finished the inventory.
We’d end up sprawled on the floor or the comfy chairs, half-drunk and arguing over books.
Sighing, I scratch my scalp at the base of my skull.
A dull ache throbs at my temple. I haven’t really eaten anything today thanks to the holiday weekend rush.
I think the barometric pressure is dropping too, since the weather went from beautifully sunny this morning to dark angry gray clouds.
What I wouldn’t give for a London Fog latte.
That jolt of caffeine would really help me out right now.
Which makes think of Aidan. I wince.
I haven’t talked to him since our argument after the committee meeting. Almost as soon as I closed the door behind me that night, I slunk to the floor of my apartment and cried. I pull out my phone to see if he’s texted me, but I only see the exchange from before.
Charlotte: I’m sorry. I pushed where I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry.
Aidan: Thanks, I appreciate it.
I fucking blew it. Aidan was right. I pushed too hard and harmed him, completely violating what little trust we had formed, and I blew it. He probably hates me now. Or at least thinks less of me.
Not that he thought much of me before. He’s been so reserved and hard to read that I have no idea if he thinks of me as just a friend or maybe something more.
I thought that maybe if I got to talking to him in a neutral manner, like we have with the committee, that I could get a read on him.
But I haven’t. He’s not entirely like a Vulcan.
He doesn’t suppress his emotions nor is he incapable. He’s just so incredibly hard to read.
Maybe I should’ve made a move like Nicole said. It is the 2020s. I can stop holding onto this internalized misogyny and ask a dude out.
Nicole insists that Aidan finds me attractive. Am I’m too oblivious to even realize it?
But then what if she’s wrong? What if he doesn’t find me attractive at all? What if he thinks I’m a pushy and bitchy woman who creeps him out? That rejection would require some major wallowing involving ice cream, sushi, and pizza. Definitely another cat. Maybe another cat named Sushi?
I’m comforting myself by browsing the local animal shelter for cats when the bell above the door twinkles, and I absentmindedly call out, “Sorry, we’re closed.” I continue working, hoping that they just leave. Fuck, I forgot to lock the door after closing again.
A London Fog appears in my vision. I blink and lift my gaze up slowly. Half-hoping, half-agonizing that Aidan has just made a delivery. A million more apologies stack in my throat.
I’m sorry. I really am. Please don’t be mad at me any longer. I really like you, and I want to get to know you better.
But it’s not Aidan.
It’s Nicole.
I blink. “What are you doing here?”
“Gee, nice to see you too. We have a problem,” she says with a disgruntled expression on her face. Her long red hair is tied up in a messy bun, and she’s wearing a shirt of Grumpy cat wearing glasses that says, “After a closer look, I like you even less.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What sort of problem?”
“Drink your latte first.” She points at the paper cup. “You’re going to need it.”
Sighing, I remark, “Why do I get the feeling that I’ll need something stronger than black tea?” I clutch the cup and take a sip, letting the goodness of the bergamot and vanilla fortify me for whatever is coming next. Although there’s something else. Something fruity. Apple maybe?
Based on the tension in her face, I can guess it’s something not good.
What kind of fuckery is afoot? Did the Douglass County Council decide to accept the budget without listening to the public?
Is the Summerfest canceled because the port-a-potty vendor backed out?
Was there a giant toxic waste spill, and we all must evacuate immediately? Did Jeff Bezos buy Summerville?
Palming the counter, Nicole flashes me with a pointed glance. “Are you saying that you want coffee?”
Rolling my eyes, I reply, “No. By stronger I mean booze, dummy.”
Her mouth rounds. “Sadly, I didn’t have time to swing by the bar.” She practically slams her phone on the counter, and I jump back. She slides the phone toward me and nods. “Take a look at this fuckery.”
“Well, aren’t we violent today.” I look at the phone for a heartbeat before glancing back at her. I take it and slink away, swiping my phone out of her reach. “Slamming your phone around like you can afford a new one. This must be serious.”
She taps on the counter with a sharp rap. “Read.”
My eyes scan the phone, and I read what she pulled up for me. My heart stops. “No!” My gaze darts back to her, and my mouth drops.
Nicoles nods. “Yes.”
“No!” I shout. Poor Thelma lets out a trill and darts out the back to my apartment upstairs, scared at my outburst. “Bridgett Hartlett is leading a countermovement against the library?” Air escapes through my lungs.
Fuck! Of course, our old high school bully would do something like this.
“How? Why? She’s never shown any interest in politics.
Why the fuck would she lead an entire movement to close our library? ”
“I don’t know. I just found this.”
“Fuck!” I breeze through the petition again. I flip the phone around. “She’s claiming that the library provides children with porn.” I shake my head. “What kind of fuckery is this?”
“The worst kind.” She crosses her arms and leans her hip against the counter. “And she’s getting some traction.”
My nostrils flare as I read through the rival petition again. “Some traction? She’s got over a hundred signatures, and she’s launched it this morning. We have seven hundred, and our petition has been around for a week. We’re both getting about a hundred per day.”
“She’s not posting on the local pages or putting up fliers like we did.” She taps her elbow. “I’d bet money that these signatures are from out of town or they’re bots.”
Sighing, I concede, “I still think there’s something up with her.” I tell Nicole about Bridgett’s visit the other day.
“Weird,” she replies. “Can we do anything about it?”
I shrug. “Maybe we can up our online marketing efforts.”
Nicole ponders this for a moment, and I know there’s nothing good working in that brain of hers. “Murder is—”
“Illegal,” I reply with my hands on my hips. “We’re not doing anything illegal, or violent.”
“Well shit.” She snaps her fingers. “There go my next five suggestions.” She looks up from the counter toward the street. “Oh hey, Xander’s here.”
The bell above the door twinkles, and the man himself walks in. He’s frowning. “Did you tell her?” he asks in a grunt.
My gaze darts back and forth between the two. “Tell me what? Bridgett Hartlett’s petition?”
His nose scrunches. “What? No. What petition?” Nicole rehashes the same story that she told me just a few minutes ago. He responds with a tsk. “Well, that fucking sucks. I’m on it.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts tapping the screen.
Nicole stands on her toes and peers at the screen. “What are you doing?”
“Posting a rant on social media to distract people from Bridgett’s petition using my fake old man account.” A wicked grin spreads across his face. “What should I choose? Loud music, random cars driving down the street, children playing?”
“People existing in their own yards?” Nicole offers.
Xander’s fingers fly on the screen. “And… done! That will bury her post in a few hours and then everyone will forget about it.”
“What about our petition?” I ask with an eye raised.
“Bobby Trigger added a note that the library is the only good thing about this town.” Xander flips his phone around and shows me the post. Despite being posted only a few seconds ago, there’s already two people who have engaged with it.
“Well, I’m impressed. Do you think you could maybe help with my social media ads?”
He shakes his head. “I specialize in rage bait, not marketing.” He shoves his phone back in his pocket and looks at Nicole. “Did you tell her, Little Nicky?”
“No,” she replies and crosses her arms. “I wasn’t going to bring it up before you got here.”
He grunts. “That wasn’t what we agreed. You were going to introduce the topic, and I was going to close. We had a plan.”
She lifts a shoulder. “You had a plan, and I think it’s stupid. An intervention is a group approach, not a staggered one.”
My neck snaps as I swivel to look at the two of them. “An intervention? Why the fuck do I need an intervention? I don’t have an addiction.”
Nicole and Xander simultaneously roll their eyes and say, “Aidan.”
I blink and lean back against the stool behind the counter. “What about him?” I pick up my latte and take another fortifying sip. “Damn, this is good. Did you put extra vanilla in it or something?”
Nicole grins. “Yes. I also added some of the new apple syrup that I’m testing out for fall. I’m trying it out in as many different drinks as possible, and I’m hoping to get my boss to have more apple drinks than pumpkin drinks.”
“A fall themed London Fog.” I tilt my head from side to side. “I love it.”
Xander snaps his fingers in front of me. “Let’s focus! When are you going to ask Aidan out?”
I tilt my head to the side. “Never. He’s pissed off at me.”
“What makes you think that?” Xander asks.
I tell him and Nicole about our argument. After I finish, Xander chuckles. “You know he thinks you’re pissed off at him?”
My mouth drops open.
He leans over the counter, staring daggers into me with his dark brown eyes. “When are you going to ask Aidan out? He likes you, and I’m fucking tired of the two of you being all moony eyes at each other. It’s obvious to everyone, so do us all a favor. Ask. Him. Out.”
I grab a pen from my jar and click the cap several times. “I doubt he likes me.”
One of Xander’s eyebrows shoots up. “Oh no, he likes you. He doesn’t stop talking about you.”
“He doesn’t?” My gaze darts back and forth between them as their heads bob. “If he likes me, then why hasn’t he asked me out?”
He groans and tosses his arms in the air. “Because he’s just as much of an idiot as you. So ask him out before I lock you in a room and force you to talk to each other. I told Aidan the same thing.”
“This is really for your own good, Charlotte. As your best friend, I urge you to put us out of our misery and ask him out.” Nicole reaches into her purse and holds out a paper bag to Xander.
“Thank you, Lurch. I appreciate your assistance in this delicate matter. Here’s a cinnamon bear claw as thanks. ”
He snatches it from her outstretched hand and grins. “Fuck, yes.” He opens the bag and takes a large bite out of the gigantic pastry. Between bites he says, “Thanks. Can I go now?”
We wave him off, and he shoulders out of the bookstore, letting the door slam behind him. I kick Nicole out a few minutes later, telling her that I need to finish my inventory. As she leaves, she calls over her shoulder, “Ask him out, Charlotte!”
Now I’m alone in the soft silence of the bookstore. Except my mind is rattling with a thousand different thoughts, all centered around one thing.
How the fuck am I going to ask Aidan Talbot out?