Chapter 2
Felix wheeled the bin of overnight returns to the front desk and stacked the books to check them in. He loved this part of the morning shift, the peace and quiet of the library with no patrons or co-workers yet. Just him and the methodical refrain of scanning each book, confirming where it belonged, and sorting it onto the proper reshelving cart.
Unfortunately, the night’s returns were minimal, and he was done in under ten minutes. He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the carts. He contemplated doing the shelving next, but that was one of Peggy’s favorite tasks, and she’d be arriving any minute. Instead, he checked his email and then the library’s general inbox. He fired off a polite response to someone asking about voter registration forms and forwarded two emails to Emma, the children’s librarian, with questions she’d be able to answer better than he could.
Ah, the glamorous life of a public librarian.
Felix sighed and sipped his vanilla café con leche out of an old, faded, blue travel mug, dutifully sealing the lid as he set it down. Though Warren didn’t have a rule against open containers at the front desk, three semesters of special collections courses at Rutgers University had ingrained certain habits into Felix. Of course, he wasn’t allowed to bring any liquids into the archives, but even in regular lecture rooms, beverages were required to be sealable. An archivist-in-training could never be too careful. And while Felix might not be an archivist yet, there was no reason to let himself get sloppy.
He glanced around for something to keep him occupied. Two enormous books stared back: Core Rules and Monster Compendium (Volume 1). After saying good night to Jo the previous evening, he’d returned most of the Monsters and Mythology books to their shelf and checked out the two she suggested he start with. He hadn’t brought them home; they were still part of a work assignment, after all. They were still sitting exactly where he’d left them, tucked under the monitor of his usual computer station.
“Might as well,” he murmured. He flipped Core Rules open.
“GREETINGS, ADVENTURER,” yelled the first line on page one. Felix cringed but gritted his teeth and soldiered on. He had made it to the end of page three when the front door offered him a reprieve.
“Mornin’, Felix,” Peggy called. “Any patrons yet?” She was a lean white woman somewhere north of fifty with a spiky, highlighted haircut that screamed “early 2000s mom.” It suited her to a tee. Today’s cardigan was deep blue and covered in embroidered cherry blossoms. In the nine months they’d been working together, Felix had never seen her repeat a cardigan. He had to admire her commitment.
“Good morning, Peg. Not yet.”
She came around the desk and deposited her purse on the open office chair beside him. “Oh, you’re a peach. You left the returns for me!”
“Of course,” Felix said with a smile. “Though before you get started, I have a question for you.”
“Sure thing.” She cocked her hip and rested her hand on it, the other hand draped on a cart.
“Just between us?”
“Ooh, that sounds juicy.”
Felix exhaled a breathy laugh. “It’s not, really. Just work stuff.”
“Everything okay, kiddo?”
At thirty-six and on his second career, Felix was hardly a “kiddo,” but Peggy’s mom energy was powerful enough to make the nickname feel completely natural. And since Felix had barely seen his own mother in recent years, he didn’t really mind it.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Thank you for asking.”
“Well, I’m great at keeping secrets, so lay it on me.” Peggy scooped her hand toward herself in an encouraging gesture.
“What do you think about Warren’s insistence on making the library more, as he puts it, ‘youth-friendly’ with this game night?”
Peggy regarded him for a moment before answering. “It’s a good idea. Emma’s up to her eyeballs with all the kids’ programming, and the retired crowd keeps our romance, mysteries, and thrillers on constant rotation. But we’ve lost a lot of the young folks without kids. We used to get students from the community college who would stick with us after graduation. A few years back, the college completely renovated their bookstore and added a huge study space. And they have a café. A café, Felix. We can’t compete with that, so why not try something new and different? Something the college doesn’t offer.”
“I can see the logic in that.”
“And then there’s the whole budget thing to consider,” Peggy said with a sigh.
That got Felix’s attention. “What budget thing?”
“Oh, did I say something about the library’s budget?”
He laughed, even though his pulse spiked with anxiety. “What was that about keeping secrets?”
“This isn’t a secret.” Peggy set her fists on her hips defiantly. “Not really. Warren just hasn’t made any staff-wide announcements about it yet. It’s all public information. On the Butler County website.” She nodded toward the computer monitor in front of him with a meaningful look on her face.
“I see,” he said deliberately. “Well, if Warren hasn’t addressed it, I certainly won’t ask you anything more about it.”
Before she could respond, the front door opened. And, speak of the devil, Warren stepped inside. Peggy caught Felix’s eye and subtly shook her head. Felix winked to indicate he understood. He was on his own to research the county’s budget, and that would have to wait.
“Good morning, Felix, Peggy,” their boss said, smoothing his hand over his tie. Warren was in his early sixties or so, a white man with impeccably gelled gray hair and a work wardrobe that consisted of nothing but white shirts, black trousers, and solid--colored ties. “How was last night’s event? Good turnout?”
“Not exactly,” Felix admitted as Peggy slipped away with one of the returns carts. “Do you have some time this morning, Warren? I was hoping to talk to you about some game night ideas from a new volunteer.”
Jo was seated at the front desk of White Hills Senior Living and Care Center with a notebook perched on her knees and her glasses sliding down her nose. She usually preferred wearing contacts at work, but some days her eyeballs needed the break. She pushed her glasses back into place, scribbled the words “find an optometrist” in the margins of her notes, and then went back to jotting down the running commentary of the receptionist, Leo.
As a nurse in the skilled care wing of the facility, Jo would only need to cover the front desk if there was a staffing emergency. But her floor lead, Lucille, believed in a thorough training schedule. Nothing wrong with being prepared, of course, but Jo would rather be getting to know the elderly residents in her charge. Two and a half weeks into the job and she still hadn’t learned all their names.
Leo, a bespectacled, sandy-haired white man with a smattering of freckles, was describing the check-in/check-out system when the front door opened, bringing with it a blast of damp springtime air.
“Mr. Ortiz, good morning!” he greeted the forty-something Latino man who walked in.
“Hey, Leo. Checking out my dad for his oncologist appointment,” Mr. Ortiz said.
“Good timing!” Leo crowed. He tended to speak in all exclamation points with residents and their families. Thankfully, he wasn’t like that with co-workers or Jo might have screamed five minutes into training. “I’m showing our newest nurse here how checkouts work! Would you mind if I used you and Mr. Ortiz Sr. as an example?”
“Fine by me.”
Jo took notes while Leo paged a nurse, and Mr. Ortiz entered everything into a tablet bolted to the waist-high counter. While they waited for the elder Mr. Ortiz, they made polite small talk about the weather. There was a classic Midwestern rainstorm expected that afternoon, same as the last five days. Jo really needed to buy an umbrella.
It wasn’t long before Vanessa, one of Jo’s skilled nursing co-workers, wheeled Mr. Ortiz (Sr.) into the lobby. Vanessa was a pretty, tanned white woman in her twenties wearing maroon scrubs and bright white sneakers laced with black-and-yellow shoelaces. Her long, dusty blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that swayed behind her like a pendulum, and her bangs were expertly curled and swept to the side. With a peppy greeting, she handed off the wheelchair to Mr. Ortiz (Jr.) and pushed the automatic door button. Then she, Jo, and Leo all stood around waving goodbye as father and son left.
As soon as they were out of sight, Vanessa leaned heavily on the front desk. “Ugh, I need caffeine. You wanna grab a coffee, Jo?”
“Oh, um… I don’t know if I’m done yet.” Jo turned to Leo.
“That was the last thing I had for now,” he said. “They’ll be back around one, so come by then, and I can show you how we do check-ins.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.” Jo stood and addressed Vanessa. “I’ll get coffee with you. Is there a Starbucks nearby or something?”
Vanessa clicked her tongue off the roof of her mouth. “Aw, California, you’re cute. I was talking about the Keurig in the break room.”
Jo laughed at herself, hoping to save face in front of her new co-workers. “Oh, well. That makes more sense, since I haven’t actually seen a Starbucks anywhere. But my answer hasn’t changed! Let’s do it.”
Vanessa led Jo to the break room, stopping to say hello to the residents they passed and introducing them to Jo. “She’s from California,” Vanessa said to every single one, with a teasing look at Jo each time.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Jo asked as they entered the stale-coffee-scented solace of the break room.
“Which part?” Vanessa said with deadpan seriousness that still managed to be playful. “The being from California part, or the part where you thought we could swan off in the middle of our shift to this town’s one-and-only Starbucks? Which, by the way, is waaaay out by the expressway.”
“My God, I haven’t heard someone say ‘swan off’ since my great-aunt was alive,” Jo teased.
“I work with old people, California,” Vanessa said as she futzed with the Keurig. “All of my idioms are from the forties.”
“That’s what the internet is for. Keeping your vocabulary up to date.”
“Huh.” Vanessa cocked her head like she’d been given a new insight on life. “I thought it was for swiping on cute boys who live in Kansas City and trying to decide if it’s worth a two-hour drive to get laid.”
If Jo had made her drink first, she would have choked on it. Instead, she made a strangled sound in the back of her throat.
Vanessa grabbed her cup from the machine and moved aside to let Jo in. “Sorry, too much? I pretty much turn off my filter when I’m not with the residents or Lucille. It’s the only way I keep my head on straight sometimes.”
Jo shook her head as she pushed the button for hot water. Tea was definitely preferable to single-serve coffee from a machine that probably hadn’t been cleaned in six months. “You’re good. Just took me by surprise is all. So does that mean there aren’t really any guys in Ashville?”
Jo only asked to make conversation. Part of the whole “fresh start in a new state” thing was figuring out her life on her own. Getting tied to someone, so soon after moving here, so soon after Jeremy, would make things too messy. And yet, as soon as she asked the question, a pair of dark, soulful eyes above a handsome smile flashed through her mind. She tried to focus on dunking an English breakfast tea bag into her water.
“Oh, there are plenty of guys,” Vanessa said, nodding toward a table where they sat down. “But I went to high school with all of them and have either dated them already or know they’re bad news.” She pointed her finger at Jo. “You get asked out by anyone who graduated from Eisenhower High around 2016, you come to me first. I’ll tell you who’s worth your time.”
Jo laughed, but at the same time, a warm feeling spread through her. She could hear the sincerity in Vanessa’s offer, a fierceness that reminded her of the way her best friend Aida always stood up for people.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “But I’m thirty-four. I should probably skew a little older.”
Vanessa made a face. “All the over-thirties in Ashville are married or losers. Or both.”
Is Felix married?a small voice in Jo’s head asked.
Jesus, Jo,she chastised herself.
Suddenly, Vanessa scoffed. “Oh my God, I can’t believe we’re those bitches talking about boys over break-room coffee. Please tell me something, anything, about yourself. What brought you to this place from the land of movie stars and Starbuckses on every corner?”
Jo winced. “Not a great question if you don’t want to talk about boys.”
Vanessa, to her credit, winced too. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. Bad breakup or something?”
“Yeah. I needed to get away, start somewhere fresh where I didn’t know anybody.”
“Halfway across the country?”
“Well, I couldn’t afford California rent on my own,” she shrugged, defaulting to the simple explanation, the one fit for co-workers and acquaintances. “It’s definitely cheaper out here.”
“Cheaper, maybe, but way duller. You got any hobbies to keep the mind-numbing, small-town boredom at bay?” Vanessa asked, skillfully steering the conversation elsewhere. Jo felt a rush of gratitude toward her.
In answer to the question, though, only one thing came to mind—the hobby that had spent years taking up space in Jo’s brain. “Well… are you familiar with the game Monsters and Myth-ology?”
To Jo’s surprise, Vanessa nodded. “I know of it, but I’ve never played. You play?”
“Yeah, I’ve been playing since college. People around here don’t seem to know it, though. How’d you hear about MnM?”
“My dad’s a big ol’ nerd,” she said. “He used to play, mostly back in the eighties. He always wanted me to start a group at ACC—Ashville Community College—but I was a different kind of nerd.” Vanessa swiveled her hips and kicked up both feet around the edge of the table. Jo squinted until she finally parsed the golden--yellow pattern on her shoelaces.
“You’re a Star Wars fan?” Jo asked, breaking into a huge grin.
“All the Stars. Wars and Trek and Gate,” Vanessa replied, lifting her coffee cup in salute. “Thanks, Dad.”
“My mom’s the one who got me into fantasy,” she said. “The Earthsea books are her favorite, and she took me to all of the Lord of the Rings movies on opening weekend.”
“I love that.”
There was a lull in the conversation as they both sipped their drinks. Jo nudged up her glasses and swirled her teabag around a couple of times.
“We should get back,” Vanessa grumbled.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to check in with Lucille,” Jo agreed. “And, hey, if you ever want to try MnM, the library is starting a game night soon. I went last night, but I was the only one there. I think they’re going to launch again in a few weeks, after they advertise a bit more.” She offered Vanessa a smile. “Something to keep the small-town boredom at bay.”
She grinned back. “That’s so cool. Let me know when they start it. I’ll come with you.”
It wasn’t until hours later that Jo realized that maybe inviting Vanessa to join her wasn’t the best way to balance MnM in her life. What if she ended up having to teach Vanessa the game too? Or showing up to play when she needed a night off because Vanessa expected her to be there?
Well, shit. What if she had already fucked up her fresh start?
That evening, Felix delved into the Butler County website, scouring meeting minutes and long-winded proposals. “Fuck,” he said for at least the eighth time in the past hour. Why the hell hadn’t Warren said anything about this?
The Board of Supervisors was recommending a twenty percent reduction in the county libraries’ operating budget to reallocate funds to public safety: a thinly veiled euphemism for throwing more money at law enforcement. The budget wouldn’t be finalized until September, but if the proposal passed, it would be in place for the next three fiscal years.
Leaving his laptop on the couch, Felix strode down the hall to the guest bedroom he’d been occupying for nearly a year. His button--down shirt landed on the bed, leaving him in his undershirt, and he changed into sweatpants and tennis shoes. He filled a water bottle at the kitchen sink and headed down to the basement, flipping on the lights and the fan as he went.
He needed to punch some shit.
But first, music. He pulled up a playlist on his phone, set it to shuffle, and connected it to the speaker on the wall. The blaring guitar-and-synth opening of “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers did its best to drown out his thoughts.
Then, warm up. He jogged ten clockwise laps around the basement, turned, and did ten more counterclockwise. Jumping jacks, squats, budget cuts. Shit. He shook out his hands and stretched his forearms, wrists, and fingers while he jogged in place.
Next, hand wraps. He hooked the starting loop over his thumb and wound the length of fabric over his knuckles, around his wrist, between each finger. Over and over, an intricate pattern that was second nature to him. Twenty goddamn percent. He wrapped his other hand and flexed his fingers in and out of fists, checking the tightness.
Finally, gloves. He didn’t always wear them to work out, but he had learned the hard way not to go bare knuckled when he was stressed. Damn sheriff’s office lobbyists.
Felix rolled his neck once and charged the punching bag suspended from the ceiling. He was supposed to start slow and work up to full-force punches, but fuck that. Rihanna shouted at him to “Shut Up and Drive” as he attacked the bag with jabs and hooks. When his arms grew heavy, he shook them out and hopped from foot to foot to keep his heart rate up.
Twenty percent was a county-wide cut. El Dorado, the county seat, had three libraries. They’d lobby to hold on to as much of their budget as they could. Which meant Ashville was going to get screwed. Felix knew from his previous career in corporate vendor procurement that salaries and benefits were the most expensive part of any budget. He’d also been around enough layoffs to know that first on the chopping block was always the new guy. Which, at Ashville Public Library, was him.
He hit the bag so hard he grunted. He did it again. And again.
Grad school wasn’t cheap. He had nearly six figures of debt to prove it. Most of his small salary went toward his loans since he was lucky enough to live rent-free here in Tito’s house.
Tito.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Each word was punctuated by a punch.
Like hell he could leave his grandfather all alone at that retirement home. Like hell he could pick up and move if he lost his job. Lita hadn’t even been gone for a year. His parents sure as hell weren’t doing anything to help Tito deal with the grief.
He’d have to get another job in town, then, and whatever he found would probably do jack shit for his brand-new career. He’d finally gone back to school to pursue the dream he’d had since he was a teenager, and now it was in danger of being ripped away from him. Never mind special collections, any library job was hard to come by. Finding one in tiny, out-of-the-way Ashville, right when Tito had needed him here, was practically a miracle. And if he lost that job in a few months? A year at a tiny public library and then a string of minimum wage jobs wasn’t exactly how an aspiring archivist built up a resume.
Felix’s shoulders burned. He didn’t slow down, didn’t stop. His arms were full of lead, but will.i.am, et al. were convincing him to “Pump It,” accompanied by a trumpet and also, for some reason, surf music? Whatever. If Peggy’s hair could be stuck in the early 2000s, so could his taste in music. They both made it work.
He pushed himself through the song, his face pouring sweat and his arms screaming for relief. He was relentless, punishing, brutal. On the final downbeat, he let out a sharp yell and shoved the punching bag away with both hands. He hopped to the side so it wouldn’t hit him on the return swing and doubled over, panting heavily, his arms dangling toward the floor.
“Fuck.”
The incomparable Britney Spears, begging “Gimme More,” washed over him as he caught his breath and came down from the adrenaline. He pushed his gloves off and rolled out his hands and wrists, stretched his arms, back, and chest.
In the post-workout clarity, one truth made itself abundantly clear. Felix needed to keep his job. He could see two potential roads to make that happen. He could either build up a roleplaying game program that brought a crowd of young people into the library, or he could work so hard in the attempt that he proved himself indispensable to Warren.
Only hours ago, he’d convinced his boss to pull game night off the schedule until they could launch it with a big event. Warren had put the launch on the calendar for mid-June and made MnM night part of the library’s summer programs. That gave Felix six weeks to learn that goddamn game backwards and forwards. Which he would. He would even figure out how to advertise it properly.
And then, by the end of the summer, by the time those final budget meetings rolled around, they’d have enough ammunition to show the board their importance in the community. They would hold onto their budget. They had to.
“Thank God for Jo,” he muttered before pouring a glug of water down his throat. He had yet to make it past page three of the Monsters and Mythology rulebook, and he had a feeling he’d be shit out of luck without her help.
Felix lifted the hem of his sweat-soaked T-shirt. As he closed his eyes to wipe his face, he saw a pair of dark red lips, parted in surprise, with a hint of a smile turning up their corners.