AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTERONE
If this were a thriller novel, we’d all be dead by the end of the weekend.
I glance down at the message from Mara as it comes in, smirking to myself before I dart across the street. She’s not wrong, I guess. Our weekend plans would make the perfect plot for one of the thrillers we love so much.
I shove my phone into my purse, making a mental note to respond to it when I get out of the interview, and stare up at the bookstore in front of me.
Spines and Wines.
My fingers are like icicles as I squeeze them into fists, pulsing them twice before I pull the ends of my hair over my shoulders, smoothing it down and puffing out a breath.
It’s going to be fine.
They’re going to love you.
My sister’s voice rings in my ears. Tucking my purse over my arm, I stride toward the door of the bookstore and pull it open. The place is cozy, with plants hanging in the windows and warm, wooden shelves as far as the eye can see.
A woman behind the counter, with a golden hoop piercing through her nose and her orange hair cut into a mullet, smiles at me. “Welcome in.”
“Hi.” I approach the counter, where a fat, gray tabby cat lies, purring happily as the woman strokes her side. “I’m here for an interview.”
“Oh, right.” Her eyes widen along with her smile. “I’m Mary, the manager. Nice to meet you.”
My worries fade instantly, already at ease in her presence. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m Lena.”
“Can I get you anything to drink?” She points at the oversized chalkboard behind her with their options painted in pretty, white script. Tea, coffee, wine, and beer.
“I’m okay. Thank you, though.” My stomach rumbles, and I pray she doesn’t hear it, too self-conscious to drink during the interview. “It’s so cute in here.”
She smiles, glancing around the room lovingly, and it’s so completely obvious how much she adores the place. “I could die happy here,” she says with a laugh. “Andif I don’t get a new employee soon, I just might.” She rubs her hands together with a deep inhale, looking around at the counter. “Okay, cool. Well, if you want to browse the shelves or have a seat, I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Him?”Shoot.She’s not the one interviewing me. Just like that, my anxiety is back. I relaxed too soon.
“Oh, right. Yes. Our owner.” Her smile goes somewhat stiff. “He’s… Well, you’ll see. He likes to do the interviews himself. I’ll tell him you’re here, and he’ll be right out.” She picks up the phone to her right and presses a button.
I take a step back, and the cat lazily lifts its head to look at me, then opens its mouth with a wide yawn and rests again, entirely at ease. Her loud purrs fill the quiet space.
“Your interview is here,” Mary says into the phone softly, her voice so low I can hardly hear her. “Okay.” She places the phone down and looks back at me. “He’s in the middle of something right now, but he’ll be out soon.”
I nod and take a seat in one of the oversized maroon wingback chairs next to a table behind me. It’s comfortable, but I’m not. I can’t decide how to sit. I don’t want to be seen slouching, or pushed all the way back in the seat so my feet don’t reach the ground, but perching near the edge feels too desperate. In the end, I settle on sitting in the middle of the seat, so my feet can reach the ground comfortably, and placing my purse in my lap.
I adjust my hair and smooth my shirt, trying not to appear too anxious as I wait for the mysterious owner.
What feels like an eternity later, I hear the sound of footsteps crossing the quiet bookstore. I sit up straighter, clearing my throat and placing my hands in my lap carefully, trying and failing to stop the nervous jittering of my leg.
When a man comes into view, he’s not looking at me but at his phone instead. His head full of dark hair is tilted downward so it’s all I can see. He’s tall with an average build and olive skin, and, when he finally looks up, shoving his phone into his pocket, I can’t help noticing the way his brown eyes drift over me as if not really seeing me at all.
“Lena Ortega?”
I nod and stand, extending a hand. “Hi. Yes. It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for doing this today.”
He takes my hand briefly, as if touching me might be causing him physical pain, then retracts it. “Memphis Reed. Can I get you something to drink?”
I shake my head. “Oh, no. Thank you, but I’m okay. I’m sorry, did you say your last name isread? How cool. Fitting, I mean.” I gesture around me. “With the bookstore.” Squeezing my lips together, I will the word vomit to stop.
“Reed with two e’s,” he says simply, not looking at me as he approaches the counter where Mary has a paper cup waiting for him. “Cream?”
“Already in it.” She gives him a small smile.
