Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“You know, he doesn’t just write horror,” I go on. I tap the book. “Finders Keepers is the second book in his crime thriller trilogy. You should start with Mr. Mercedes.” I tap the book next to it, a paperback marked at twenty percent off. “It’s witty, entertaining. I think you’d really enjoy it.”
“Really?” she asks, looking back at the cover warily.
“Tell you what,” I say to her, taking a step closer so that just the table is between us. “You buy Mr. Mercedes and read it. If you don’t like it, I will not only give you a full refund, but I’ll take you out for dinner.”
I can sense my dad is somewhere behind me. His derisive grumble rolls through the store like a freight train.
“Oh, that’s pretty smooth,” the girl says, though the gleam of interest in her eyes is growing.
“I can be rough too.” Another grin.
This time she giggles and looks away coyly. “Okay, well, I was actually hoping to find another book. Do you have anything by Sylvia Day?”
I wince. Day is a prolific romance writer (with one hell of a rack). “No, sorry.”
She shrugs, as if embarrassed she asked. “That’s fine. I guess Stephen King it is.”
I do an internal victory dance.
I pick up the book and hand it to her. As her delicate fingers take it, I hold on, refusing to let go. “But you have to promise to be honest.”
“I will.” She chews on her candy apple lip for a second, staring up at me through her lashes. “What happens if I like the book? Can you still take me to dinner?”
“You’ve got a deal…” I trail off, hoping my frown prompts her for her name.
“Samantha,” she supplies.
Of course she’s a Samantha. All the Samanthas I’ve met look and act like her. Sexual, sensual, but unusually bashful in the sack. Not that I mind. I like making them blush.
“I’m Blake,” I tell her. “And I’ll never lead you astray.”
I ring her up at the cash register and write my phone number on the receipt. There’s no point in getting her number—I know she’ll be calling me soon.
She leaves the store and my dad follows her, locking the door and flipping over the “Closed” sign before whipping around to face me. “What the hell was that?”
I shrug, fiddling with the till. “What? I made a sale. Business as usual.”
“Business as usual isn’t propositioning the customers.”
“Yeah, I thought you were with that other girl,” Kevin says, and I jump, not realizing he’s standing right behind me, a stack of young adult fantasy novels in his hands.
I give him a tepid look. “What other girl?”
“I don’t know,” he says, practically whining. “When you drove me home the other day, we saw her walking down the street and you covered your face so she wouldn’t see you.”
My dad shakes his head. “What’s gotten into you, Blake?”
I take in a deep breath and keep my voice light. “Nothing at all. I’m twenty-three years old and I like the ladies, what can I say?”
“You weren’t like this with Rachel.”
My chest burns at that. “You didn’t even know Rachel. You met her once.” Stop trying to act like you know anything about me at all, I finish in my head.
He knows he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. He comes over to the register, clearing his throat. “So, how much did we do today?”
Oh boy, the worst moment of the day. Bracing myself, I look over the numbers.
It’s not good. It doesn’t even pay the expenses accrued.
“Well?” my dad says, and I step out of the way so he can look at them.
I glance nervously at Kevin, and we both seem to hold our breath as dad closes his eyes, his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose again. He holds it there, trying to compose himself. Then he swallows and shakes it off.
“Thanks for your help today,” he says flatly, like he couldn’t conjure up any emotion if he tried.
“No problem,” I tell him.
He still doesn’t look at me. “School is going well? End of the year is coming.”
“It’s going great,” I tell him, even though that’s kind of a lie. But I don’t dare rock the boat. I know why he’s asking me. He’s reminding me that soon all of this will be mine, and if I don’t know what I’m doing, I’ll run the business into the ground. Just like he’s doing.
“Good, good,” he says absently. “I’ll take Kevin home. Thanks for getting him.”
“Anything for my bud.” I eye Kevin. He seems unreadable right now. Maybe he’s already fighting orcs or something in his head instead of watching his father worry about the money they’re losing. “See you soon.”
I get out of there and don’t seem to breathe until I’m at The Bard and Banker pub on the next block. I text Heath and tell him about the change of plans, to meet me there instead. I need alcohol in my veins ASAP. My dad, Kevin, the business, the pressure, the mention of Rachel are all swilling through my brain.