AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It says here you would have exclusive rights to any touring authors dealing with mysteries or any other upmarket genres. You added a noncompete clause for any bookstores within a twenty-five-mile radius,” I exclaimed. My mind immediately flashed to Olivia and her shop. She was starting to gain enough traction with customers and the Indie Bookstore community to attract touring authors with significant fanbases. This noncompete clause would decimate her.
Mr. Quinn grinned as he watched the realization wash over my face.
“That’s right. I know your sister has that little shop, but business is business, am I right?” he snickered.
I shook my head. “I can offer you a noncompete with any mystery writers, but it doesn’t make sense for you to monopolize all of upmarket fiction,” I shot back.
“Well, I am a bookstore,” Mr. Quinn demurred.
“Eighty percent of your inventory is mystery and thrillers. Having a non-compete for the rest of fiction and romance would be misleading, not only to the authors themselves but to your customers as well. I won’t allow it.” I said firmly.
“Well then, I won’t sign,” Mr. Quinn pouted.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This project is estimated to rake in over a billion dollars during its first year. If you don’t procure your space now, you’ll lose over a million easily. And I know it’s not easy for a brick-and-mortar bookstore these days. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I’m in talks with Amazon Books to take over your space if you don’t sign.”
When Mr. Quinn initially got cold feet about the project, I reached out to some of my contacts at Amazon. I helped lease an Amazon locker space a couple of years ago in Boston, and I kept their contact information in case it would come in handy. I hated the idea of giving Amazon bookstore space, especially since my sister owns an independent bookstore, but I knew they would fill the space quickly and with little complaint. Plus, unlike Mr. Quinn, this deal wouldn’t be life and death for them. If the space fell through at the last minute, they could find another one within a day. Mr. Quinn, not so much. Dover was a unique consumer population. The rest of Massachusetts wasn’t nearly as intrigued by the idea of a mystery-only bookstore.
“You’re bluffing,” Mr. Quinn insisted.
Again, I shook my head. I pulled up the email thread I had with Amazon and passed my phone to Mr. Quinn.
He read through it intently, his nose so close it nearly pressed the phone screen. A tense silence settled in the room. Mr. Quinn harrumphed and slammed the phone down.
“Fine! I’ll settle for a non-compete for mysteries and thrillers only. But I’m adding a clause that we’ll be listed as the second option for upmarket fiction, after your sister’s store.”
“Excellent. I’ll have Johnathan make those changes to the contract.” I texted Johnathan, and he appeared seconds later, silently grabbing the contracts. He returned, plopping the fresh contracts onto the table. He’d placed yellow page flags on the sections where Mr. Quinn needed to sign.
“Thanks for taking care of that, Jonathan,” I said.
He nodded. “Any time, sir. Mr. Quinn, it’s good to see you.”
Mr. Quinn grumbled as he fished a fountain pen out of the front pocket of his suit. He signed his portions of the contract with a flourish and passed them over to me. I looked them over and nodded. I couldn’t quell the feeling of pride that rushed through my veins. I finally did it! Mr. Quinn was the last major retailer I needed to sign for this project! Tomorrow, I could start reaching out to construction companies to see when we could break ground and finally move on to the next phase.
“Alright, everything looks good here. Would you like a copy for your records?”
Mr. Quinn nodded. “Yes, please.”
Jonathan returned and rushed to the copier with the signed contracts in hand.
While we waited for Jonathan, Mr. Quinn gave me a once-over.
“I must admit, I underestimated you,” he admitted.
“You weren’t the first, and you won’t be the last,” I said.
“That Amazon move was ballsy. You remind me of, well, me back in the day … when I had a full head of hair,” he mused.
I tried to picture him thirty years ago and came up short, instead wondering if there was a history of male-pattern baldness in my family.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Oh, it is. You’re a good man, Sebastian. I might be biased. Any friend of Tim McGuire is a friend of mine.”
“Tim’s a great guy,” I said with a smile.
“Our wives went to high school together. I swear, Boston is a small town sometimes. Well, soon-to-be wife. Rebecca and I are getting married in September.”
“Is that so? Small world. You’re engaged to Achilles and Regina’s girl, aren’t you?” asked.
