He closes the door behind him and surveys Harper with a look of distaste in his steely blue gaze. Nothing makes him more uncomfortable than displays of emotion.
Ignoring Harper’s outburst, he strides over to the espresso machine on the other side of the shop. In his crisp white button-down dress shirt, plastic pocket protector, and horn-rimmed glasses, he could be a rocket scientist straight out of the fifties.
His gray buzz cut and disdain for normal human feelings only add to the impression.
I say, “Murph, you’re not on the schedule for today.”
“Neither is Harper,” he replies stoically as he fixes himself an espresso. “Or Taylor, whom I spied in the parking lot, skulking around like a felon.”
Taylor is another employee, a gaming fanatic with tattoos of her favorite book quotes all over her body, lots of facial piercings, and a wicked sense of humor.
She’s probably here for the same reason the rest of us are.
To commiserate with our fate.
As if on cue, the front door opens again, revealing Sabine.
Sabine is one of those quintessential California beach girls, all shiny gold hair and big blue eyes and teeth like the star of a Colgate commercial. In contrast to her sunny appearance, however, she radiates the kind of dark intensity usually associated with cult leaders.
It’s an irresistible combination. I can’t count how many men I’ve seen fall lovestruck at her feet.
She steps inside and fixes me with a piercing stare. “Hey, Em. How are you?”
I smile. “Who, me? Just in the middle of a minor breakdown. Nothing to worry about.”
From over his shoulder, Murph calls, “Good morning, Sabine.”
“Morning, Murph. Viv, Harper. What’s everyone doing here?”
Murph turns to peer at her over the rims of his glasses. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re on the deck of the Titanic, listening to the musicians play before we sink into the freezing water and drown.”
He’s always good for a depressing metaphor.
“Nobody’s drowning!” says Viv with a huff. “You guys are overreacting. Lit Happens has been a mainstay of this community for forty years. I mean, that’s like…” She struggles for a comparison, then points at me. “Practically as long as Emery’s been celibate!”
“Excuse me, but six months is hardly forty years.”
Sabine chuckles. “Maybe for you, it isn’t.”
The phone rings. I rush to answer it, hoping it’s a customer with a big special order or maybe a long-lost relative calling to inform me of the billions I’ve just inherited from an eccentric great-aunt I never knew I had. But when I pick up, I’m disappointed to hear a familiar voice.
“Oh, good, I caught you,” says my landlord in his distinct Boston accent.
“Hi, Bill.” I sneak a furtive glance behind me to make sure nobody’s too close, then turn back to face the wall and lower my voice. “The rent check cleared, didn’t it?”
“Yes, it did. After I put it through twice.”
I wince, then start to chew my thumbnail. “Shit. I’m so sorry. It’s just been a little tight lately, what with the economy and inflation and still trying to get over the pandemic downturn—”
He interrupts, “No, no, I understand completely. It’s been hard times for everybody in retail, that’s for sure.”
I’m relieved for half a second, until he says, “Which is actually why I’m calling.”
There’s something in the tone of his voice that makes my pulse jump. “What do you mean?”
He clears his throat. “Well, your current lease term will end soon…”
Oh no. Oh God no, don’t you dare do this to me right now.
“…and as you know, we haven’t raised the rent in several years…”
Don’t say it, Bill. Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say.
“…but with ValUBooks moving into the complex, those smaller spaces like yours are going to command a much higher price per square foot. So I’m afraid there’s going to be an increase.”
When my silence becomes too much for him to bear, he says sheepishly, “Your rent will double starting September first.”
“Double?” I shout, startling the chubby orange cat dozing on the countertop nearby. “You’re telling me you want me to pay twenty thousand dollars a month for rent?”
At least he has the decency to sound embarrassed. “You haven’t had an increase in five years. And before that, it was another five. It’s only fair that we bring things up to current market value.”
I want to say that if things were fair, my father would never have died in the first place.
If things were fair, my mother wouldn’t have succumbed to breast cancer when I was only ten years old.
If things were fair, for fuck’s sake, I wouldn’t have had to skip college to help run the family business. The business currently gasping its last breath.
But I simply close my eyes and draw a slow breath. “I have people who rely on this business for jobs, Bill.”
“And I have people who rely on my business for theirs. I’m really sorry, Em. This isn’t personal.”
My face flaming, I retort, “Actually, this is about as personal as it gets.”
“Look. You’re a businesswoman. You know how it goes. Only the strong survive.”
“That’s not business, it’s a Bruce Springsteen song.”
“Same thing.”
“You could’ve given me a little more notice!”
“Would it have made any difference if I did?”
I close my eyes and exhale in defeat. We both know he could give me a year’s advance notice, and I still wouldn’t be able to make the new rent.
At that moment, the marching band I didn’t know had assembled in the parking lot launches into an enthusiastic rendition of “Start Me Up” by the Rolling Stones.
“What’s all that racket?” says Bill.
“The sound of my life ending.” I slam the receiver down with a curse, making the orange cat on the counter glare at me in outrage for disturbing him.
Taylor bursts through the door, knocking Sabine aside in her rush.
“Hey!” Sabine says, aggravated. “I’m standing here!”
Without acknowledging her, Taylor crosses to me in a few long strides and slaps her hands down on the countertop.
Leaning in, she says hotly, “They have a Starbucks. A fucking Starbucks, those twats!”
In addition to her fondness for piercings and tattoos, Taylor also has a vulgar mouth. It’s one of the many things I love about her.
“We knew that, Tay. It was announced in the paper.”
Murph says, “Taylor, make yourself useful and go find something next door to light on fire. Preferably the romance section.”
Harper snaps, “Don’t diss romance novels, Murph! They’re the only thing that’s gotten me through the last year!”
Taylor smirks. “Yeah, that and your battery-operated toy collection.”
Harper props her hands on her hips and glares at her. Sabine laughs. Murph’s face turns red. And I reach for the bottle again, because this is going to be a very long day.
It’s just as I’m swallowing around the burn of the whiskey that I catch a glimpse of a man through the shop windows.