Chapter Seven #2
Rosie snorted, tapping her cane on the floor. “Well, I can’t remember what I thought when I first read the book back in the seventies, but I don’t think I would’ve expected anything like that. Wentworth is the obvious choice. They’re soul mates.”
“It could have still been a love triangle,” Lydia pointed out, adjusting a pastel bow in her hair. “I was hoping there could be a little something. They had a really interesting connection, and Anne doesn’t have many real connections.”
Joshua sat still and quiet, fiddling with the fur over his eyes. It always took him a while to participate when there was someone new in the group. Suze nodded beside him, chewing her dry, broken cookie with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
Nick waited. He flicked the edge of the discussion sheet, thumb leaving a black streak on the creased paper. He was waiting for someone else to speak, but not because he was interested in what they had to say, Vi realized. He was hoping they’d help him crawl out of the hole he’d dug for himself.
“Okay,” he said. He picked at the edge of a fang. “Uh . . .”
Vi stopped him. “What did you think?”
Finally, he looked up at her. He seemed surprised to see her standing so close to his chair. His elbow twitched like he wanted to pull it away from her.
“What did I think?” he repeated. Then he pulled a thinking face. It was . . . strangely subtle. Like he was actually hoping to get away with it. “I agree with Rosie. Soul mates! Uh, next question. Who was your favorite character?”
The typical chorus of Anne and Wentworth went up. It was an even split, with Joshua and Lydia going with Anne, and Rosie and Suze saying Wentworth.
“Cool,” Nick said. “I’ll go with Anne, too. Baller chick.”
Vi thought about telling him that you weren’t supposed to run through the questions like a pop quiz.
That you were supposed to use them as an opening for further discussion.
That they usually only got through half the questions in two hours, and he’d already burned through two in the first few minutes.
Nick twisted to look up at her. “What about you? You got a favorite?”
Vi stared at him, incredulous. She knew for sure now: He hadn’t read the book.
Had he bothered to check out the CliffsNotes or even looked over a Wikipedia plot summary?
He’d had all week. He’d promised her. He’d looked at her with those big dark eyes, more serious than she’d ever seen, and promised. And she’d believed him!
If it had been anyone else, Vi would have found a polite way to help.
Taken the reins back without making him feel put out.
Pulled him aside to give him some lighthearted suggestions on what else he could do.
If it had been anyone else, she would’ve told him it was alright he didn’t have time to read the book, everybody got busy sometimes, taking the blame off his shoulders despite the anger curdling her stomach, climbing her chest.
But this wasn’t anyone else. This was Nick Wicker, orc jokester and jackass extraordinaire, who had been humiliating Vi for years for no reason, and her only consolation was that he didn’t show up much.
But he was in her bookshop. Slouching in one of her fold-out chairs.
Looking up at her with those stupid dark eyes and that insufferable grin, reaching up to snap his giant fingers right in front of her nose.
“Violet,” he said. “You in there?”
Violet. The anger was climbing her throat now. Why had she ever believed he could change? She’d been right about him all along.
“What about the letter?” she asked.
Nick’s smile stayed in place. “Huh?”
“The letter scene,” she prompted, voice just a little too high. “What did you think?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Good scene.”
His eyes were blank. He didn’t know what she was talking about.
“You didn’t even read the CliffsNotes,” she heard herself say. “You said you would try.”
Nick blinked. “Uh . . .”
Still with that smile. Wavering, struggling, but it was still there. Mocking her. Trying to make her feel stupid. Vi was so sick of feeling stupid.
“You couldn’t even be bothered to throw on the movie,” she said, her voice rising to a pitch it hadn’t hit since she was a teenager.
Suze stopped chewing her cookie. Joshua stopped fiddling with his fur. Rosie stopped tapping her cane. Lydia gaped. All eyes turned to Vi.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “that you think this is so far beneath you. I’m sorry you think it’s stupid, and naive, and apparently the perfect target for Nick Wicker’s endless crusade of mockery!
I’m sorry you were so bored in your pathetic little life that you decided to come in here and waste everyone’s time!
Books aren’t stupid! You’re stupid, and I’m stupid for believing you when you said you wanted to . . . what? Get out into the community?”
She laughed. It echoed around the silent bookshop, shockingly loud. It felt satisfying, yelling at him. But satisfying like pulling out a splinter. The kind of satisfying that was going to hurt later.
“Bullshit!” she yelled. “You don’t care about community!
You care about getting a laugh! You know what?
Even with the constant crap you give me, I’ve always tried to be nice to you.
And I thought, for once, you were trying to do the same!
But you’re the same old Nick Wicker. Trying to make me look like an idiot. What did I ever do to you?”
Nick stared at her. He didn’t look guilty. Didn’t look angry at her for finally calling him out. He looked . . . shocked. He was pale, staring at her like he had completely lost control of the situation and desperately wanted it to go back to how it was.
“What?” he said. “You’re not an idiot. When did I say that?”
His mouth flinched into a smile. Still trying to turn this all into a joke.
“Get out of my bookstore,” Vi told him.
Nick’s jaw worked. “But . . .”
He trailed off, his jaw snapping shut. He gave her one last infuriating smile, close-lipped and straining over his fangs. Then he stuffed his book and discussion sheet into his jacket and jumped to his feet.
“Ladies,” he said to the others, voice oddly scratchy. “Gentleman. I’m . . .”
He hooked a thumb toward the door. He didn’t look at Vi as he headed out.
“And stop calling me Violet!” Vi called after him as he slunk toward the door. “You know I hate it!”
The door closed. Vi stopped, panting. She waited for the triumph to kick in, like Gabby always said would happen if she ever let loose, as she put it. But it didn’t come. That splinter feeling was still there, digging under her skin.
Everybody gaped at her.
Vi patted her hair back into place. She sat down in the seat Nick had been sitting in. The plastic was cool—he hadn’t been here long enough to warm it up.
“Okay,” she said, trying to remember the discussion question. “Um. Favorite characters?”
“What the heck was that?” Joshua blurted.
“I didn’t know you could yell,” Lydia said with a giggle. “Seriously! Someone told me you had a throat thing!”
Rosie lay a wizened hand on Vi’s shoulder. “Maybe we should call it a night, lovely . . .”
“I’m fine,” Vi said, voice so high, she winced to hear it.
“Oh I know,” Rosie said in a deeply dubious tone, wings listing lazily behind her. “But I’m actually quite tired. Everybody?”
“So tired,” Suze agreed, smothering a fake yawn that turned real halfway through, fangs glinting. She had two young kids. Exhaustion was a permanent state for her.
Rosie gave Vi’s shoulder another pat. “Let’s all get some rest and come back next week. Do a proper Persuasion discussion.”
Vi thought about arguing. Insisting she was fine. But everyone looked so shocked and flighty, trading looks like she couldn’t see them all in this tiny circle. Ready to leave. Ready to go home and gossip about calm, polite Vi Harper, who finally lost it because of some book club asshole.
She sighed. “Alright. Does anyone want to take the cookies home?”
Nobody did.
Vi dumped them in the trash on her way out.