Read The Overtime Persuasive Online Free by Anne Kemp

Something cold and horribly familiar settles in my stomach.

I’ve been here before.

I’m a kid again, sitting on the cracked vinyl couch in a greenroom with my feet dangling above the floor. The bass from the stage vibrates through the walls, and the room smells like old beer and whatever food has been abandoned on the catering table. My father said he would come for me as soon as the interview ended, so I watch the door handle every time footsteps approach.

Five more minutes. One more photograph. Someone important needs him. There is always a perfectly reasonable explanation.

None of them make me feel less forgotten.

I press my palms against the counter until the edge digs into my skin. Liam is late. That’s all. There are plenty of reasons he could be late. He could’ve hit traffic, gotten stuck on a phone call, or any number of things that have nothing to do with me.

But my body has never been particularly interested in reasonable explanations.

My pulse is too fast. My skin feels too tight. Every passing second pulls that old fear closer until I’m not waiting for Liam anymore. I’m waiting for a door that has never opened when I needed it to.

Maybe he forgot?

Maybe he changed his mind.

Maybe I was stupid to believe⁠—

“So, Eva.” Lucy’s voice cuts through, interrupting the thought, as she peers into the back room. “What do you think you’ll do with the space?”

The question takes a second to reach me. I draw in a slow breath, letting the familiar scent of paper and old vinyl pull me out of a long-ago greenroom and back into the store I chose for myself.

“I’m thinking about opening it up for events. I already host one book club, so why not open it to more? Other groups, too. Just because I have records and books doesn’t mean a community group couldn’t use it.”

“I love that you’re looking at it this way.” She smiles wistfully, letting her eyes move slowly around the store, as if she was soaking everything in. “The café was only one part of Side B, Eva. It wasn’t the heart of it.”

Something in my chest turns over. First Mrs. Green, now my best friend? Maybe I’m the only person who believed losing the café would somehow make everything else I built count for less.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome.” She glances at the wall clock. “He’s late now.”

It’s now 12:20. Only five minutes late, but I’m expected at the studio by 12:45, and it’s at least a fifteen-minute drive without traffic. This is Northern Virginia at lunchtime. There will be traffic. There is probably already traffic gathering somewhere in anticipation of ruining my day.

I pick up my phone, glance at it. Nothing.