“I mean, it’s a little early, but apparently the south is due for a bad winter, which means that we are going to get hit with a double bad winter,” I continued, looking up and down the alley, avoiding her stare.
“Margo.”
“You should get that to the bank before Larry goes to Margie’s for lunch,” I suggested, throwing my purse over my shoulder. “I’ll have your latte waiting when you get back.” I turned and headed for the employee entrance.
I kept my eyes on the maroon metal door as she called out, “Is that latte going to come with a conversation?”
I lifted my hand and flipped her off. “That costs extra.”
Thankfully, her laughter filled my ears as I yanked open the door, a wave of welcoming heat slamming into me.
Since Rossy’s Books opened nearly a decade ago, it had seen a plethora of customers from all walks of life. It was one of the reasons I enjoyed working here. Despite my own failures, it was a pleasure to witness others succeeding in different ways. It gave me hope when I’d come from a place where the absence of success lingered in the air like a toxin. Through the thousands of espressos I’d brewed and poured, I’d gotten to witness Sarah and Michael raising their children, Rossy found his love for writing again, and Carrie found everything she was looking for when she came to Astoria. I’d also seen three proposals and a handful of author signings where the writer slowly came to the realization that their work meant something to someone. Success and happiness weaved through the stacks of this tiny little hole-in-the-wall bookstore by the sea, and I was grateful to be a part of it.
However, on this particular afternoon, the gratitude was hard to find because Red Snake’s hacker, Jake Murphy, had planted himself at the bar at the start of my shift. He’d ordered three coffees and had hardly looked up from his laptop, his eyesnarrowed behind his black-rimmed glasses, studying the screen as if he was trying to solve world hunger.
I mean, all he had to do was hack into the bank accounts of billionaires and—
“Margo?”
Pulling my eyes away from the red-headed mountain of a man, I found Carrie approaching the counter, a stack of children’s books in her hand. “What’s up, Cardinal?”
“Did you happen to see a box in the back from Hummingbird Publishing?”
I shook my head and leaned back against the espresso counter. “No, I haven’t seen any deliveries from them in about a month.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “Same here. Their distribution manager sent us an email last week saying that we had about five boxes of Frank’s new release on the way.”
Frank Malled was a local horror author, and with every book release, Rossy scheduled a signing for him.
My brows shot to the ceiling. “Isn’t his signing next Thursday?”
Carrie let out a heavy sigh, depositing her books on the counter before dropping her head on it. “Yes,” she groaned. “He called this morning while you were in class and, of course, I told him that everything was ready to go for his signing. That we were so excited, and blah blah blah…” She trailed off, leaning up and covering her face with her hands. “I can’t piss off Frank, Margo. What if he kills off my favorite character because I lied to him?”
I rolled my eyes. “He isn’t going to—wait, who is your favorite character?”
She split her fingers open around her eyes, her answer muffled. “Adam Rosemore.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “There’s no fucking way that Adam Bitch-Ass Rosemore is your favorite character,” I gasped, putting my hands on my hips. “Seriously?”
She stared at me. “What’s wrong with that?”
I threw my arm out. “He cheated on Mary Ann!”
“Wh-what?” she stammered, pale as a ghost. “He what?”
My mouth snapped shut.Oh shit, had she even read the third book yet?
A warm chuckle came from the end of the counter. Jake didn’t even take his eyes off his computer as he lifted his to-go to his lips and muttered, “She isn’t caught up, Margo.”
I looked back to Cardinal and slowly raised my hands. “I didn’t know! I thought you’d readMidnight Runsalready.”
My best friend blinked once, then twice. “I think you just hit me with the biggest spoiler of my life,” she whispered.
“To be fair,” Jake interjected, “Midnight Runshas been out for nine months, Care. There’s been plenty of time to read it.”
She glared at him. “I’ve been a little busy.”
He shot me a smirk before turning on his stool, facing Cardinal. “So have I, and I read it. You have no excuse.”