Chapter Two
Paige
“Thanks, Margo,” I say.
“No, thank you for getting me a copy,” she beams. “I can't wait to sink my teeth into this one.”
I hand Margo the bag containing the latest Patricia Cornwell novel. She's been one of the store's most loyal customers for years. She was actually the first customer to ever step through the door of Bookworms, way back in the day when my parents first opened the store. On the wall behind the register, there's even a photo of her with my folks at the grand opening.
A retired teacher, she's a voracious reader and goes through crime fiction novels like nobody's business. Whenever there is a new release, I always make sure that she gets the first copy that comes in the store. It's a tradition that my folks started. After they passed, and I took over the business, I decided to continue that tradition.
Margo is not only one of my most loyal customers – she is one of my only customers. The truth is, Bookworms isn't doing so great and hasn't been for years.
“You really should see about having a book signing with some of these authors,” she says. “I think it would do wonders for your business, Paige.”
I cut a quick glance around the store and smile to myself. No self-respecting author would come to Port Safira to begin with. They'd be even less likely to come to my store. It's small and cramped. When my folks opened it, they wanted to give it a cozy, intimate feeling. But, over the years, with so many bookshelves, books, and piles of knick-knacks everywhere, the store looks disorganized and more “junkyard chic” than cozy or intimate.
“That's a good thought,” I say, knowing the likelihood of it happening hovers somewhere between slim and none. “I'll see what I can do, Margo.”
She smiles widely. “If you can, see if you can get Sue Grafton or Patricia Cornwell in,” she says. “Or maybe Michael Connelly.”
I laugh. “I'll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, dear,” she says and heads out of the store.
After the bell tinkles as the door opens and closes behind her, I walk to the front windows of the store and look out at Sapphire Avenue – the main artery that cuts through the middle of town. Thankfully, it's the one thing that hasn't changed around here.
Port Safira is a growing town but still isn't quite on par with Seattle. Nestled on the Olympic Peninsula, my hometown is still a relatively small place, with just under a quarter of a million residents. I was born here and have seen it change drastically over the last decade. And, in my opinion, not necessarily for the better.
When the cruise ship industry gained a foothold here, I knew that things were going to go downhill. Once the terminal went up and the money started flowing into the local economy, it wasn't long before hotels started springing up. And then condominiums. And after that came the high-end chain stores and boutiques.
The Mom-and-Pop shops that were once a staple of my hometown started dying out and becoming extinct. Places like Starbucks and Banana Republic are sprouting up like weeds, while businesses like Donna's Coffee Spot and Fashionably Late – places that have been in existence longer than I've been alive – are being driven out of business.
Port Safira has always been a blue-collar, middle-class town. It’s not Beverly Hills or even one of the more affluent suburbs around Seattle, but it has always been a nice place. A good place to raise a family. And yet, developers by the score are coming through here, buying up land and gentrifying the hell out of everything. And in the process, pushing a lot of lifelong residents out of town.
I sigh and look up at the clock. It's almost noon and I figure that since I'm alone in the store – as I am most days – I might as well close up for a bit and go grab something to eat. Which is pretty much my standard routine most days. It's not like I come back to hordes of people waiting outside the doors to get in.
When my parents first opened this place, it wasn't with dreams of getting filthy rich. They were both avid readers and thought that sharing that love of reading and the written word was something Port Safira needed. They held events designed to get kids interested in books, always attended local functions and had a booth at the fair. And for a while, the bookstore thrived.
But, of course, with the proliferation of the Internet, video games, and the slow death of all community events and functions in Port Safira, fewer people are reading. At least, in paperback book form. Most people just download books to their tablets, phones, or e-readers.
Technology signaled the demise of the brick and mortar bookstores much in the same way these goddamn developers are bringing about the death of everything that had always made Port Safira special. Everything that made it a tight-knit community.
I sigh again and shake my head. Thinking about my hometown and what it is becoming never fails to put me in a bleak mood. And the fact that I sit in my bookstore day after day, rarely seeing anybody, doesn't do anything to alleviate that mood.
Putting the “Be Back Soon” sign in the window, I walk out and lock up behind me. I need something to eat, but more than that, I need human interaction. Something to help snap me out of this foul mood that has me wrapped up tighter than a Christmas present.
~ooo000ooo~
“So, then he tells me that it was somehow my fault,” Skyler spits, genuine anger in her voice. “Can you even believe that?”
I laugh and shake my head. “You're kidding me.”
“Not even a bit,” she says. “I walk into his office and catch him with his secretary bent over the desk and he's just pounding away. They didn’t even notice me for like two full minutes.”
“That is unreal, hon,” I say.
“Tell me about it,” she replies. “When I finally get them to notice me –”
“And how did you do that exactly?” I ask.
“I threw a bottle through the window, of course,” she says like it's the most obvious, normal thing in the world. And given that it's Skyler, I probably should have expected something like that. She's always had a flair for the dramatic.
“Of course,” I say.
“Anyway, it was a scene,” she says. “They're both falling all over themselves to get their clothes on, and all the while, Dean's apologizing and telling me that if I'd been more affectionate, maybe he wouldn't have had to bang his secretary. Yeah, this is my fault.”
“What a prick,” I say. “What an absolute prick.”
“Right?” she says. “Not to mention the fact that he's such a fucking cliché. I mean, come on, his secretary? If he was going to cheat, he could have at least been more original.”
I laugh because that statement is so Skyler. “So, what happened?”
“Well, I obviously told him it was over,” she says.
“Obviously.”
“Told him to have his shit out of my house in an hour or I was going to set it all on fire.”
Knowing Skyler as well as I do, I know that wasn't an idle threat. “I'm assuming Dean got his shit out?”
“Of course,” she says and laughs. “He knows I'd set that shit on fire in a heartbeat. And if there's one thing he likes more than cheating on his girlfriend, it's his clothes. Superficial asshole.”
“Want me to key his car?”
She shrugs. “No need,” I said. “I kicked him in the balls as hard as I could. When I left, he was curled up on the floor crying like a baby.”
I laugh again because that too is so very Skyler. She doesn't take crap from anybody and is never afraid to assert herself.
“Good for you, sweetie,” I say. “But, if you ever want me to key his car, I'm always ready.”
Skyler has been my best friend since high school, and we're more like sisters than anything. The fact that she likes me better than her two natural sisters never fails to irritate them. To be fair, they are pretty terrible people, so it doesn't bother me all that much.
She's got long, blonde hair and stunning green eyes. Tall, thin, with a great body and even better breasts, Skyler is every man's dream woman. She's smart, ambitious, and doesn't take shit from anyone. Skyler's lack of a filter and willingness to say whatever is on her mind and to put anybody in their place is something that I've always admired about her.
It's also probably a reason she's still single. In my experience, men say they want a smart, independent woman, but when they find one, they don't know what to do with her. And those qualities they say that they want, end up irritating them in the end.
Men and their egos are such fragile, delicate little snowflakes.
“Hang on,” she says. “Let me grab your lunch.”
Skyler turns and disappears through the swinging doors that lead into the kitchen. She's the owner and operator of the Sapphire Grill, one of the best restaurants in town. While it is not quite upscale or “fine dining”, it is definitely several steps up from a greasy spoon diner – the kind of place it was when her parents owned it.
She'd done an amazing job of transforming the place and making it something new. Something better. Not that it was a bad place when her parents owned it. It was one of the more popular places in town. The place most of the old timers would go to in the morning for their coffee, conversation, and daily fix of grease.
But after it passed on to Skyler, she wanted to take it in a new direction. And she had. With a new menu that's simple, yet elegant, it attracts the usual old-timers, plus the younger crowds of hipsters and yuppies. Skyler has done what seemed like the impossible, which is roll with the punches and adjust to the changing world around us. And as a result, the Sapphire Grill is one of the few locally owned businesses that are thriving.
It's what I wanted to do with Bookworms when I first took over, but I honestly don't have the first clue on how to turn a dusty old bookstore into a place people want to come to. Not with all the technological options available to them today.
I sigh and sit back in my booth. The one thing that I do know is my shop is hemorrhaging money and that it has been for a good, long while. If I don't do something to turn things around, I really don't know what's going to happen.
“Here we go,” Skyler says as she sets a plate down in front of me. “One bacon cheeseburger with blue cheese crumbles, caramelized onions, on a garlic brioche bun. Oh, and sweet potato fries, of course. Had it made special just for you.”
“Sounds so fancy,” I say. “And smells incredible, Sky. Thank you, hon.”
“Anything for you,” she says as she slips back down into my booth. “Call it payback for listening to me bitch about my screwed-up love life all the time.”
I laugh. “Hey, I see it as living vicariously through you,” I say. “I can't even tell you the last time I had a date with anything other than a big, hunky man in a book.”
She gives me a rueful smile. “You know you could have any man in town,” she says. “You're gorgeous, Paige. I can think of a dozen men who'd gladly give their left nut to go out with you.”
“Yeah, the problem with that are the words, any man in town,” I say and laugh. “I've been here too long and know too many people. Dating somebody in town would feel weird.”
Skyler laughs and shakes her head as I take a bite of the burger. My eyes roll into the back of my head and a sound escapes from me that probably seems better suited to a porn flick. It's so full of flavor and tastes completely amazing.
“This is incredible,” I say. “So freaking good.”
“Glad you approve,” she says.
“Very much so,” I reply. “And you should totally put this on the menu.”
“I may just do that,” she says and then looks at me. “It's not that bad, you know. The guys in town. Especially with the influx of new residents. Lots of new beef to choose from, Paige.”
“Mostly hipsters,” I say. “I haven't seen this many bushy beards since the last lumberjack convention rolled through town.”
She reaches across the table and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Honey, I say this with all of the affection I have for you in my heart. You really need to get laid.”
Skyler isn't wrong about that. I can't even remember the last time I'd been with somebody. Between the store and my general lack of interest in the men around Port Safira, my love life has been deader than a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
The trouble though, is that I'm pretty particular about the men I sleep with. I'm not going to go screw some random guy just to screw him. I like to feel a connection with the men who share my bed. A bond. I'm not the one-night stand kind of girl. I actually like to be in a relationship – or at least, headed in that direction – before I drop my panties for anybody.
“Why don't you come out with me one night?” Skyler says. “I mean, I'm single and on the prowl now. We'll head into Seattle, have a few drinks, maybe find some hot guys to use and abuse?”
“You're such a bad influence.”
“Yeah, that's why you need me in your life,” she says. “You need somebody to steer you away from the convent you seem determined to enter.”
I laugh. “Hardly a convent.”
“Girl, you haven't had a man in your lady bits in so long, I'm half-afraid your body is just going to seal itself up down there forever.”
“Oh my God, you're terrible,” I reply.
“You're just now figuring that out?”
“No, I just feel the need to point it out now and then,” I say and laugh.
I take another bite of my burger and pop a fry into my mouth, savoring every delicious bite. I look up and see that Skyler is staring behind me, her eyes narrowing and a look of pure disdain crossing her face. I know that look and who inspires it – and it's not Dean, her cheating ex.
“Oh, Christ on a cracker,” she says.
“Mayor Goodrich?”
She nods and tries to smooth out her face and make herself appear less disgusted than I know she is. It's the price of being a business owner – you can't let people know that you despise them. It's politics, plain and simple.
I sink back into the booth, hoping he doesn't notice me. The last thing I want today is that blowhard asshat ruining my lunch.
“I got you, hon,” Skyler says, jumping out of the booth.
I glance back and see her greet the Mayor and his small party. She escorts them to a table on the other side of the restaurant, smiling and chattering the whole way like she is genuinely happy to see him. It makes me glad I don't have to play politics like that.
I sit back and happily dig into my meal, determined to enjoy the rest of my lunch.