Chapter 19 – Sydney
SYDNEY
The next day, as promised, there are four workmen waiting for me when I go to open the shop.
And to confirm, Sebastian sends me a text message explaining exactly what they’ll be doing and why.
He refers to them each by their name, instructing me to message immediately if any of them disrupt my work.
It takes them most of the day to finish the installation, but at least they keep to themselves, moving through the shop like ghosts, setting up cameras and sensors and doing their best to politely ignore me and Jade (and Bea, who not once but twice manages to make off with a spool of their wire, forcing them to chase her around the store to retrieve it).
It’s a relief when they finally finish, packing up their things and taking off. A relief not because of the disruption, but because of the sudden weight that’s been lifted from my shoulders, knowing that extra security is in place, and someone is watching over me and our store.
It’s strangely comforting to know that. And maybe I should be second-guessing their motives. Maybe I should remember that it’s a better idea to keep these men at arm’s length. Maybe I shouldn’t be putting so much faith in a man I know likes to…watch.
But you want him to watch, don’t you? You like it when he watches you.
Nope. Not thinking about that. Definitely not today. Because today, of all days, I don’t need the extra stress.
It’s finally the second Friday of the month.
Book club.
I arrange the chairs hours in advance in the center of the shop, where there’s a big enough gap between the aisles to accommodate everyone, and still barely manage to have everything set up by the time they filter in.
I wish I had the chance to join them tonight.
Especially with the book they’re discussing: The Prince’s Knife, still one of my all-time favorites.
But I’ve fallen behind on some of our bookkeeping and promised Jade I’d keep on top of it.
So it’s not until almost closing time that I manage to sneak by the group and catch a snippet of their discussion.
When I finally do, the voice I hear rising above the others makes me pause.
“See, that’s what I’m having trouble with here,” Justin is saying, sounding confused. “How is Malachi the hero of this story?”
I peak around the corner, to be sure, and there he is, seated in the circle of women, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
His copy of The Prince’s Knife is resting on his lap, and the women in the circle are giving him their full attention, excited but nervous to have a good-looking guy join the group and express an interest in their favorite books.
I get it. He’s cute, with his artfully disheveled pitch-black hair, and those dimples…
I can tell why these women might be in a bit of a tizzy over him.
But I’ve known Justin for too long, it’s hard to picture him as anything but the little kid who used to give Jade wet willies and cut the power during our horror movie marathons to hear us scream.
So, even though I have to admit that he’s become objectively very attractive, I just can’t separate him from the lanky brat he once was.
“Take the forest scene, for example,” Justin is saying, tapping his fingers against his knee. “In what world is he not the villain here?”
“It’s all about perspective,” Jennifer is telling him.
When he glances over at her, she shifts slightly under his gaze, touching her hair nervously.
“That scene is written from Phaedra’s point of view for a reason.
When Malachi finds her in the forest and ties her to that tree, we know she consents.
She wants him just as much as he yearns for her. ”
There are murmurs of agreement.
“Okay,” Justin concedes. “But Malachi doesn’t know that. He doesn’t even give her a chance to consent. I mean, he only removes the gag once, and he only does it to put his dick in her mouth, so—”
Julia erupts into a shocked giggle, drowning out Justin’s next words.
“Sorry.” She blushes, covering her face with one hand and waving her outburst away with the other. “Nervous habit.”
A few of the other women in the circle grin, blushing.
It’s fun reading these books, discussing them with our friends, and sharing our fantasies in a safe space together.
But there’s always a dynamic shift when a man enters those spaces, even when they have the best intentions.
We might be able to read these books stone-faced in public, but having him here is like being caught watching porn.
It shouldn’t be embarrassing, but it somehow is.
And it’s extra embarrassing to be discussing them in front of a man who looks like Justin. A man who could—with a few personality tweaks—be one of these characters.
“Hang on, though. He’s a vampire, right?” Sarah points out. “So, he can like… smell her arousal, can’t he?”
Justin goes still while the other women around the circle nod in agreement. He blinks once. Twice.
“I’m so sorry,” he says with a deep breath, a pink blush spreading over his face, turning the tips of his ears red. “Did you just say he can smell her arousal? Because he’s a vampire?”
Jennifer nods enthusiastically.
“That’s just canon,” Sarah explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Werewolves can do it, too.”
“And the fae,” Jennifer adds.
“That’s…” Justin takes another deep breath. “That’s a thing? In these books?”
“In fantasy romance? Yeah,” Sarah tells him, nodding.
Justin looks like he’s trying not to pass out.
“My point,” Jennifer says with emphasis, “is that it was consensual. And he knew that.”
“Consent requires a vocal yes. This?” Justin waves the book around. “Smelling her arousal? That is not vocal consent.”
“It’s romantic,” Sarah insists with a shrug.
“It’s a sex crime,” Justin snaps, a brief flicker of anger crossing his face.
Oh.
That’s new.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Justin angry before. But as quickly as it came, it’s gone. He rubs his face, looking suddenly tired.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m not… I’m not trying to be difficult, I promise. I’m just trying to understand.”
“It’s fiction,” Jennifer insists. “Don’t forget that it’s just a fantasy.
And in this world, in that moment in the woods, the reader gets a glimpse inside Phaedra’s mind.
And we know that she’s okay with what is happening.
In our world.” She gestures around the circle.
“In our world, we’re not as safe as Phaedra.
There can’t be shades of gray in consent in our reality because women are inherently unsafe. We don’t hold the power.”
Justin is listening closely, nodding along with her words.
“What are these books really about, at the end of the day?” Jennifer asks the circle, looking around expectantly.
“Sex,” Justin says immediately.
A few of the women giggle.
“Ladies?” she prompts.
Jennifer has been the de facto leader of our book club since the very beginning, but it’s clear it’s going to take more than just her asking to get someone to volunteer an answer. When none of the women in the circle speak, I suck in a breath and step forward.
“Power,” I answer. Justin’s eyes jump to mine, his eyebrows rising, but Jennifer smiles and nods for me to continue. “These books are about power. About being so strong you’re almost untouchable. Phaedra has all the power with Malachi, even during that scene in the woods.”
I address the whole circle, not just Justin. “The fact is, in this universe, we can trust Malachi, and characters like him, to be completely devoted to one thing only: her pleasure.”
Around the circle, the women nod their heads emphatically.
“Malachi challenges Phaedra,” I say, directing my answer at Justin. “But he would never hurt her. He’d burn the world down if it meant she felt safe.”
“See?” Sarah grins smugly at Justin. “It’s romantic.”
You can see the indent on his face where he’s biting his cheek to stay quiet.
I glance over at the wall clock and clasp my hands in front of me.
“Thank you so much for coming tonight, ladies,” I tell the circle.
“And… uh, gentleman.” Justin gives me an embarrassed smile, and a few of the women laugh.
“But I’m afraid we’re about to close for the night.
Jade has some pastries for all of you up at the front. And plenty extra for you to take home.”
The group begins to disperse, chatting among themselves as they make their way up to the café.
A few of them stay to thank me for hosting and put in their orders for next month’s book.
Jennifer gives me a big hug before she leaves, promising to message me her thoughts about the latest book in The Prince’s Knife trilogy.
When they’re all gone and I’m just starting to put the chairs up, I notice one last guest who hasn’t left.
Justin.
“You know, you don’t have to participate in the book club. Jade and I never do,” I tell him, dragging another chair toward the stack. “It’s not mandatory for employees.”
“I didn’t think it was,” Justin admits. He shifts, clearly uncomfortable. “But I also didn’t think it would be…”
“All women?” I volunteer.
“Yeah.” He gives me a small, uneasy grin. “I messed this up, didn’t I? Made them uncomfortable?”
I snort, lifting another chair and dropping it onto the stack. “I doubt it. It’ll take more than just you to make that group uncomfortable, believe me.”
“Good.” He blows out a breath, puffing out his cheeks, shoulders visibly relaxing.
“Did you like it?” I ask, nodding toward his copy of The Prince’s Knife, still clutched in his hand.
Justin looks down at it, frowning. “Do you want my honest opinion?”
I nod.
“It’s…” Justin looks from me to the book, and then back again, grimacing. “Sydney, this book is terrible.”
I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms lightly.
“There’s barely any plot,” he continues.
“And the character’s motivations are all over the place.
In one scene, Malachi professes his undying love for her, and in the very next scene, he says they can’t be together.
And his reasoning is… It’s absurd. It’s infuriating nonsense.
And I don’t understand half the powers these people are supposed to have.
There’s no consistency between descriptions, either.
Are his eyes piercing bright, or are they dark as a moonlit night? Because they can’t be both.”
“I see.”
“Look, I know you love it,” Justin tells me, brandishing the book. “But…”
I hold up my hand to stop him. “Oh no, I get it. It’s certainly no Special Agent Callahan.
A man who is seven feet tall, yet completely inconspicuous in a crowd.
Who can tell people are lying by microexpressions.
” I arch an eyebrow. “I looked that up, you know. Pseudoscience. It’s not a real thing. ”
“Yeah, but he—”
“Sleeps with a new woman in every book?” I offer, cutting him off. I lean my hip against the stack of chairs, giving him a look. “Most of whom he literally just rescued from almost being sexually assaulted and murdered?”
Justin stammers, his ears turning pink.
“Those books? They’re male power fantasy. These books.” I gesture toward his copy of The Prince’s Knife. “They’re female power fantasy. That’s the difference. Maybe one day you can see past your dick-centric universe to get it.”
A shocked laugh bursts out of him. “My dick-centric universe?” he repeats. “Jesus, Sydney!”
“It’s true! You could stand to learn something from these books,” I tell him.
“That’s why I wanted to read this one,” Justin admits, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m trying to read more romance. But this stuff is dark. It feels, I don’t know, dangerous? Like, if this is what women like…”
“Just because a woman enjoys reading about something, that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants that in real life,” I say firmly.
“I’m starting to get that,” Justin murmurs. Then he smiles, a little warily. “Maybe tomorrow you can recommend something lighter? Help break me out of my dick-centric world view?”
“I’m sure I can find you something,” I relent, mentally preparing a list of options for him.
He grins. “Thanks. I should head out for the night. Want me to take these back to the stockroom?”
He gestures at the stack of chairs, and I shake my head.
“No, you head home. I’ve got this.”
We wish each other goodnight, and he gives me a dimpled smile and a wave before he disappears, heading toward the café. I heave a sigh and turn to finish cleaning up, when I walk directly into a wall.
Or at least what I thought was a wall.