Page 642 of Manhattan Bossholes

My phone rang, and I saw that it was Nina.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I answered.

“Um…can you get away for lunch, like, right now?”

I checked the time. “I guess. Are you okay? You sound like something’s wrong.”

“I can’t get into it now. But yeah, I’m good. Just meet me at Opa Grille.”

It was an odd choice for lunch—much closer to home than to where either of us worked—but I was used to following her whims.

I glanced around the office and saw half of my colleagues deep in a foosball tournament. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.”

I could tell something big was going on the minute I saw her pacing around on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.

“Hey,” I wrapped her in a quick hug. “You okay? You look pale.”

“I need to show you something.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the block, coming to a stop outside a vacant building.

It was a beautiful space with two giant windows beneath a green-striped awning.

“Pretty,” I said. I peered in and could see that the space stretched deep, with a shiny, worn-looking wood floor that signified it had been well-loved. “Should we add it to our list of possibilities?” I pulled out my phone. “I’ll look up the details. What’s the address?”

“801 East Callaghan,” she answered, reaching into her pocket. “But it might be easier if we just go in.”

“Huh?”

She walked past me jingling a key, slid it into the knob, and walked inside.

“Nina, what’s going on?” I asked, following her into the space. “How did you get a key? Did you schedule a viewing? Shouldn’t we be with a realtor?”

I shut my mouth the minute I crossed the threshold because it was even prettier inside, with clean white walls and a bright vibe that was exactly what we were looking for. I felt like I’d walked into Treehouse Books.

“I don’t know who you talked to in order to get that key, but now that I see the size, I know we can’t afford this place. I don’t even want to look around; it’ll only break my heart when I find out how much it’s going for.”

“No, take a peek with me,” she said. “This way.”

“Neen, no,” I groaned. “This is going to make me sad, and I don’t need more sadness in my life right now.”

She spun around and gestured upward. “Look how high the ceiling is. Can you imagine how tall the shelves can be? We can get one of those Beauty and the Beast ladders!”

“Stop,” I pleaded.

“Over here,” she ignored me and walked backward, pointing to a small side room, “can be our children’s book section. Plenty of space for it, then we can transition it to young adult right here.” She pointed to a long wall nearby. “And look how much room we’ll have for author events! Maybe we can even do other stuff too? Poetry jams or open mic nights? There’s tons of space to get creative!”

“Nina, enough,” I commanded. “I don’t know why you’re going on and on, but we can’t afford it. This is a fantasy space—not reality. Maybe we can find something similar that’s actually within our budget?”

She walked closer to me wearing a little smile. “We don’t need to find anything similar because it’s ours.”

She took my hand and dropped the key in my palm.

I shook my head as if it might settle the thoughts racing around in my brain.

“What are you talking about?”

“C’mere,” she hooked her hand over her shoulder and walked to the front room, taking a seat on the wide windowsill. “We need to talk.”

“I’m so confused…” I answered, following behind her.