5. Bookworm Pride

5

Bookworm Pride

Deacon

As soon as our session ends, Lola is ready to cash in her trip to the bookstore. Hopefully, it won't take long, and Alice won't be there to torture me with her cheerful attitude.

The jangle of a bell signals our entrance. The pink-haired girl—pretty sure her name is Hayley—is helping a customer, but she welcomes us with a wave and a smile. I've never been inside before, and it's definitely not what I was expecting. I immediately feel uncomfortable.

Everything screams girly and cozy. White wooden bookshelves on most walls are equipped with sliding ladders that look like a disaster waiting to happen. Mismatched couches and armchairs form a reading area in the middle of the room. Two large display tables are situated in front of it, the first thing our eyes land on as we enter. One of them has a sign that says, " Bookstagram made me buy it ."

What on earth is Bookstagram? Is it some kind of cult? I wouldn't put it past these people. It's always the quiet ones.

"Oh, hi," Alice says, striding from the back room with a bright smile. Just when I was hoping she wasn't here. Her face tenses the moment she sees me. She's wearing the same black leggings as this morning, but she's changed her T-shirt to a form-fitting pink one that says, " Professional Book Nerd " with the bookstore logo on the bottom near the hem. Her brooch remains firmly in place.

I give her a noncommittal nod, and she focuses on Lola, who is currently sporting the brightest smile I've ever seen on her.

"Can I help you find something?" she chirps.

Lola gives her a shy smile, and part of me feels jealous. I can never get a smile out of her. I guess she likes chipper brunettes more than old grumps like me. "Yes, I'm looking for some books. I just finished Melody's Love by Lindsey Jeppsen. Right now, I don't think I'll ever find something as good. But maybe you have some suggestions."

Alice claps her hands. "Oh, absolutely. I'm sure we'll find something. I didn't know you were a bookworm too. Welcome to the club," she says, leading her to the shelf on my left.

"Wait, you pride yourself on being a worm?" I sneer, unable to stop myself.

That earns me a glare from both Alice and Lola. Was my comment that crazy? I mean, a worm isn't exactly the most desirable creature. This woman is weirder than I thought. And possibly a cultist.

"Don't listen to him," Lola says, turning back to Alice. "He doesn't get it. He's not a reader, and he won't even let me have a Bookstagram account."

Alice's mouth opens to form a small "o," as if suddenly everything made sense and she had me figured out. So what if I don't read? Alice focuses on Lola again. "Have you ever read anything by Jen Logan?"

"No," Lola says, her eyes sparkling.

They keep going like that for another twenty minutes, and it's the happiest I've seen Lola since her mother passed. Alice looks different too. Happy, as always, but also inhabited by something—passionate. I take the time to check the sturdiness of the different shelves, and particularly those ladders. You can never be too careful. Plus, they have a photograph of a cartoon character rolling on the ladder with a red cross over it taped on each ladder. They're most definitely hazardous.

"Oh! There's a bedding area for your cat in the bookshelf!" Lola exclaims, and I turn around to look. Indeed, the cat is curled up in a spot at the bottom of the shelf.

Alice chuckles. "Yes, my brother and his teammates helped assemble the furniture in the store, and they added a cat nook. You can't see it, but he has a pillow that says, ‘ It's my reading spot .'

"You named him Mr. Darcy, right?" Lola asks. "I heard you calling after him."

"That's right. He was here when we bought the abandoned building, and we decided it was fitting to give him an all-time favorite character name."

Lola nods. "Definitely. He kind of looks like him, with his cute tuxedo."

"Exactly! Oh, speaking of Darcy, I also have a regency book you might like," Alice says. "Follow me."

While she whisks her away, I decide to perform another check of those bookshelves. I don't know what sport her brother plays, and I don't care. All I care about is that the fact that these shelves weren't built by professionals, meaning they're a potential safety threat .

Finally, they're finishing up, and I end up paying for four new books for Lola.

"Thank you," Lola says, flashing Alice an elated smile. "I can't wait to read them."

Alice tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm glad I could help. You know, we're starting up some book clubs if you're interested. We don't have a YA date set up yet, but I'm running the romcom one next week. We only read and sell closed door romance here, so you could come."

"What exactly is it?" I ask, annoyed that she's inviting Lola to stuff without consulting me.

"It's just a book club. We're hosting one several times a week for different genres. We all read the same book, and then we talk about it with snacks."

This is the first time she's talked to me for this long without yelling at me. I'm not sure if I like it yet. "What time would it be? She still has two weeks to go before Spring Break."

"It's from seven to eight p.m. next Wednesday."

"Please," Lola says, turning to face me. Her pleading eyes pierce straight to my heart and take control of my brain. I guess this place, as uncomfortable as it feels for me, isn't that horrible. And even if Alice's cheerfulness might rub off on Lola, that wouldn't be such a bad thing. The last thing I want is for the kid to turn out like me .

"Fine." I cross my arms. "You can go."

"Thank you!" She jumps up and down, clapping her hands.

"Great," Alice says, giving me a look I can't quite decipher. "I'll go grab the book."

"What? Another book?"

Turning around, she lifts an eyebrow. "Well, it is a book club. How is she going to participate if she hasn't read it?"

Here I thought she was just being nice, trying to include Lola, when really, this was just a sales tactic all along. She might wear bows and pink outfits, but Alice is one cunning librarian.

Lola has been upstairs reading all day while I finished some painting in the apartment and the back room of the bar. I opened a week ago, but there are still a few last-minute touches to be made. I re-checked that creaking step, made sure the fire safety was up to code for the tenth time, and cleaned the vents again.

The bar has been off to a slow start—like I knew it would be. Aside from a few of the eateries, most of the shops around here are only open during business hours, so there isn't as much foot traffic at night. I'm losing money for now, but hopefully, it'll pick up. Finding a commercial space within my budget wasn't exactly a breeze. Besides, time was of the essence. Lola and I were stuck in a tiny apartment, and the cost of rent was pumping through my budget like a high-pressure washer.

Right now, our only customers are an old man I've seen around before and the guy who owns the art gallery at the end of the street, with who I assume to be one of his friends.

As I'm about to turn on the large TV behind the counter, the door opens, and the massive frames of four burly guys push through.

"Hi," I say, forcing a friendly wave. I've never really been a people person, but that has never stopped me from owning a bar. Grumpy is an acceptable personality trait for the job. At least it was in Sycamore Springs. Then again, I knew everyone there from my childhood, and mine was the only bar in town. This new situation might be slightly different. "Welcome."

"Thanks, man," says the one wearing a " NY RAPTORS " cap backwards before they all pile around a corner table. I'm pretty sure the Raptors are one of the New York pro hockey teams, but I've never really been into sports. It might be a football team .

"What can I get you?" I ask, coming over to their table. They give me their drink order, and I promptly bring their drinks to the table.

"Do you mind switching to ESPN?" the one with curly hair asks. For a second, I feel like I know him. "There's a hockey game about to start."

"Sure thing."

I knew it. Looks like I'm not that clueless after all. I turn on the TV, and they all sit back to watch the game.

After a while, two more of their friends pop in, followed by Marissa and Beth from the coffee shop and Hayley from next door. Hayley sits on the curly haired guy's lap, bending down for a kiss. That's where I know him from. I've seen him walk by before on the way to the bookstore.

The night wears on, and my bar has never been this packed. The group orders drink after drink, and more of their friends pour in. Even in Sycamore Springs, I never had this many people in my bar at once.

"Hey, Max. Isn't that your sister?" says a guy with blue eyes and an undercut hairstyle, nodding outside.

Drying a glass, I follow his gaze, and my eyes fall on Alice walking past.

Max, the curly-haired guy, nods, then looks at Hayley, who murmurs something to him before getting up and heading outside to talk to her friend .

"Well, I have to get going anyway," Max says, standing up.

"Same," the other guys respond, and a rumble of chairs scraping the floor follows.

"Thanks, man," Max says to me, ambling to the counter. "Glad you opened this place up here. It's not too far from the arena and my girlfriend's and sister's store."

I nod. "Sure. You're welcome here anytime. You're hockey fans, then?"

"We are." He smiles. "And players. We play for the Raptors. Maxime Beaumont," he says, offering his hand.

"Nice to meet you. Deacon Collier."

"This is Caleb Hawthorne," he adds, turning around, and the black-haired guy with a beard waves at me. "Next to him, with the backward cap, is Aaron Miles, and the guy with that awful undercut is James Adler," he jokes, to which Adler flips him the bird.

"Well, I'll make sure to show your games." I dip my head.

"Thanks." He places three hundred-dollar bills on the counter. "Keep the change."

My eyes widen slightly. "Thanks. Have a good night."

"Oh, by the way," Maxime says, stopping in the doorframe. "We'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone we're hanging out here. I know it's probably tempting, since your business is just starting, but it's a relief for us to have a cool spot to hang, and it would quickly get out of hand if fans knew we were here."

I nod. "No problem. We may not know each other, but I'm not that kind of guy. I won't say a word."

"Thanks, man. See you around."

Well, it turns out setting up shop on this street might not have been such a bad idea after all. I watch the players exit, and my gaze falls on Alice and Hayley, who are still talking outside. Alice looks defeated, and I wonder if she's returning from another date.

Since the day I moved here, I've only ever seen her getting all dolled up and excited, only to come back deflated. She's probably one of those hopeless romantics, judging by the bookstore she's running. Even if her over-happy persona grates on my nerves, I hate seeing that beautiful smile wiped from her face even more.