Earl collected the now-empty box and threw his new purchases in.
“It’s October. Barb has me cleaning all year long.” He shuffled toward the door. Sebastian reached around him and pulled it open. The door swung open with its usual grinding moan, and Martin twitched. Earl walked outside, and Sebastian turned and waved, throwing another smile out.
“See you later, Martin.” The name was practically a purr. Seb stepped out onto the street, and the door shut behind them with one more wailing protest, taking the old man and the ghost with it.
* * *
The senior citizens’ book club arrived for their weekly meeting at four. Martin hadn’t even known they were coming, but that didn’t seem to be a problem because they arranged chairs on their own, while one of the members dragged a podium out from nowhere. Another must have gone to the back to make coffee, because she reappeared a few minutes later with a tray of mugs and an insulated carafe Martin also hadn’t seen before.
Mrs. Green was the last to arrive. She swanned in, a flurry of green skirts and pink scarves, and the ladies who had gathered greeted her with much fanfare. They went through the same performance they had before, where Mrs. Green introduced him as “Dr. Lindsey,” and he tried to remember how to be gracious. Meeting new people had never been his strong suit. His colleagues had worked the room, schmoozed, and chatted with donors and other faculty members. But Martin should have at least been able to be manage with this small group of Seacroft’s literary septuagenarians. Even after everything, he should still be able to do that.
It was a relief when Mrs. Green called the meeting to order and he could disappear back behind the cash register.
As the book club was wrapping up, the door howled open, and Seb stepped back into the store.
Despite the now nearly reflexive thundering of Martin’s heart at Sebastian’s arrival, he almost giggled. At least Seb had now confirmed he used simple human means to enter the building.
Why he kept showing up at the store was still a mystery, though.
Unlike the book club’s polite interest in Martin, there was palpable excitement as Seb unzipped his leather jacket. He was only a few feet away from Martin, but it was like he came with his own spotlight while Martin continued to fade into the shadows.
“Oh it’s our artist in residence! Seb, I’m so glad you came to see everyone.” Mrs. Green floated toward him. She turned her back to Martin and drew Seb toward the rest of the group. The late afternoon sun poured through the store’s windows, giving him a golden halo around his pale skin and hair. He was gorgeous, and in that moment, Martin hated him. Just a little.
He didn’t realize he was staring until Seb’s indulgent gaze landed on his face.
“How’s it going?” His grin was friendly, like he was inviting Martin to share an inside joke.
Of course, all Martin could do was blink and stammer. Only Mrs. Green whisking Seb off to meet his public kept Martin from diving under the counter to hide from wherever that grin was about to lead.
“We’re so fortunate to have Seb in Seacroft,” Mrs. Green said after everyone had gone.
Martin was stacking up the last of the chairs. “He’s certainly very popular.”
“Oh yes. Well. If you’d seen his work, you’d understand why. He has art in galleries all over the east.”
He was an artist? That explained his flair for the dramatic.
“He likes coming to the bookstore.” Martin tried to stay casual as he said it. No sense letting Mrs. Green know he’d nearly clubbed her favorite artist with a cookbook.
“Well, he has a key for the back, but the lock sticks, so he uses the front when we’re open.”
Martin paused as he pulled the podium back where it had come from. “He has a key?”
Mrs. Green’s eyebrows climbed up toward her fluffy white hair. “Why, Dr. Lindsey, didn’t I tell you? Seb lives upstairs.”
* * *
“I found one!” Cassidy appeared in the door with a heavy-looking book tucked under one arm. The way her lips twitched around her smile, like she was trying to hold back a gush of words, made Seb pause with the knife alarmingly close to his thumb. He set it down and turned, giving her his undivided attention.
“What did you get?” He nearly choked on cold coffee as Cassidy held the book open to a black-and-white photo. It featured a woman in a nearly transparent dress, with another woman’s hands strategically placed to keep the photo just this side of a parental advisory. Cassidy cackled as she slammed it shut and clutched it to her chest.
“Isn’t it perfect?” She rushed toward him. He leaned away instinctively, like the book might be contagious.
“That was downstairs?”
“Top shelf, just like you said!” She did a happy dance while the old floorboards of his apartment creaked underneath.
Maybe like he’d said, but not quite what he’d meant. He’d expected fairy tales. Something easy with big recognizable illustrations. Instead, his protégé had brought him porn? Straight porn at that. Seb shuddered and reached for the book. The cover was unremarkable: plain gray with a single word,Expression, written on the cover in blue lettering. He lifted the edge gingerly with his knife and peered at the first page. Maybe not porn, but it definitely toed the very edge of the line. On a different page, a woman wearing what might have been a fishnet was wrapped around a man wearing what could only be described as nothing. Once again, her hands were cleverly placed to ward off the morality police.
