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CHAPTERONE
Olive
“Don’t let a man ever talk you into sticking it in your back door. That should be a woman’s request, when she’s ready for that. These men always think we don’t enjoy sex, but you and I both know, those are the men that aren’t any good at it.”
A grunt is all I can muster. My second favorite customer continues to ramble, the Baileys in her coffee kicking in.
No, I take back the Baileys comment—Fitzy is naturally outrageous, and although she usually has a cocktail in hand, I’ve learned it’s just her personality, and I love her for it. She is one of two people I can even say the L-word for. I’m not the warm and fuzzy type. Not a social butterfly, and usually, I avoid people.
We’re drinking coffee at Black Soul Books, and I’ve been soaking up the wise old lady’s wisdom, per my usual Thursday.
“Now tell me, Olive, are you ready to meet your future husband? You give me the word, and I’ll have them lined up for you.”
I mean-mug Fitz, who only laughs, well used to my standoffish tendencies. I really wish she would give up on this fool’s errand.
“I’m not interested, Fitz. You waste your precious time on me.”
“Is that a stab at my delicate age, young lady?”
Horrified, I gasp at the misunderstanding. Insults come easy to me, but they’re never meant for those I hold dear. “No, of course not!”
Her laughter brings a reluctant smile to my face. “I know, dear. You should have seen your face. You know, for such a grump, you sure have a beautiful smile. Maybe bring it out to play at my party this weekend?”
“You lost me atparty. Those involve lots of people, so it’s gonna be a hard pass for me.”
“There will be sexy single men, wall to wall.”
“Again, not into it. Got my trusty toy.” I send her a knowing wink. “I’m good.”
The thought of dating makes me feel ill. Most men I’ve attempted to hang out with are dull with little intelligence. Or worse, I’ll be speaking with some asshat online who talks a big game but has no intention of seeing me outside the bedroom. It’s cool. I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, and honestly, trying takes too much energy. I’ll just stick to my book boyfriends and leave the bar scene to the younger crowd.
“Well, all right then,” she says, picking up her smutty romance novel, clearly wanting to say more but thankfully dropping it for today.
“Why you love this place so much, with your surly outlook on people, is beyond me, babe.”
“I love books, not people, and unfortunately, it comes with the territory. I make exceptions, though.” I throw the old bird a wink as the store phone rings.
“Oh, we know who that is, don’t we,” she announces, making me groan.
It’s not a question. Fitzy knows I dread dealing with the store owner, and she’s the only one who ever calls. Since I’ve set up the store’s social media accounts, readers just buy, trade, and chat online. I even host a book club, all online, but does the owner care? Nope.
Taking a deep breath and putting on my best customer service voice, I answer the phone.
“Black Soul Books, what can I help you with?”
“OMG, Olive, you sound so cute. Are you making me lots of money today?”
“Yep. As a matter of fact, I’m with a customer right now. I really should get back to her.” I wink at Fitzy before I add, “She’s a big spender.”
My old friend laughs because she’s currently reading a book I bought her, but don’t let her fool you, she is a billionaire. Although, I still have no idea what she did for a living.
“Oh, that’s perfect. I’ll let you go, then. But real quick, I want you to come to my dinner party this weekend.”
I pull air through my teeth, despite wanting to just say, ”Fuck no.” Instead, for the sake of my job, I lie.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have a sitter for my kid. Thanks for the invite, though.”
Hopefully, that sounds cheery. I know lying about having a child is probably frowned upon, but I hate peopling, and people haven’t figured that out yet. Especially my socialite boss, who only has parties and, for whatever reason, keeps inviting me to them. Luckily, she seems to hate kids.
