“You know, if you’re nicer to customers, they mightbuybooks.” I gestured into the gloomy hall. “Maybe then you could afford a few more light bulbs around the place.”
And I wouldn’t trip over stuff all the time.
“She was never going to buy a book,” Heathcliff glowered. “Didn’t you see her? She was going around snapping pictures on her phone so she could look them up on The-Store-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named later. You can tell a reader from a kilometer away.”
“Oh, can you?” Morrie appeared on the staircase behind me, emerging from the second story flat. He’d added an blue cashmere scarf to his ensemble that perfectly matched his eyes. “Enlighten us with your powers of deduction.”
“Mina is a reader.”
Morris snorted. “Well, duh. That’s obvious.”
“How can you tell?” I asked. “I told Heathcliff I used to practically live in this bookshop, but I never told you.”
“Easy,” Morrie said. “There’s a smudge of ink on your right index finger and—”
“It’s taken her forty-five minutes to shelve seven books,” Heathcliff said. “She’s either reading as she goes, or she’s simple.”
“Hey!”
“As charming as always, Heathcliff. If you’ll excuse me, Mina, one of us has to make the bones. I’m heading into the office.” As Morrie passed me on the landing, he took my hand, raised it to his face, and grazed my skin with his soft, warm lips. My whole body flushed with heat. “Don’t let Old Cantankerous scare you away. I look forward to when next we meet.”
“Yes… er… right. Bye.” I stared after him as he shuffled down the narrow stairs and out the front door. By Ishtar, I knew I’d been seeing that arse in my dreams.
For as long as I still have dreams I can see.
As Morrie stooped to fit his tall frame through the door, another figure pushed past him. A young woman about my age carrying what looked from here like a Birkin bag paused in the entrance hall, and turning to study Morrie’s departure.
“By Isis, I never thought I’d see an arse like that walking out of a dump like this,” purred a throaty voice.
My heart leapt into my throat. I ducked out of the staircase and flung myself against the wall, wishing the dark wood would swallow me up.
Ashley.
Chapter Five
I’d recognize that voice a mile away. And she swore by an ancient female goddess, which was something Ashley and I started doing in America when we noticed everyone talking about God all the time.
Panic swirled in my stomach.She’s here. Why is she here? Ashley doesn’t read. The only times she ever set foot in Nevermore Bookshop was when she was meeting me after school.
Logic told me I should flee deeper into the shop, because there was no telling what would go down if Ashley saw me. But I couldn’t bear it. I had to find out why she was in here, inmyterritory. I knelt on the carpet and crept back onto the landing, turning my body to stare through the balustrades. I could barely see her in the gloom, but I could make out her vague shape, and Heathcliff's, who appeared in the doorway.
“If there’s an ereader in that fancy purse of yours, you can turn around right now,” he growled. I stifled a laugh with the back of my hand.By Athena, I love you, Heathcliff.
“Relax, man. I’m just here to look at some books.” Ashley’s stiletto heels clacked over the wooden floor as she moved toward the staircase.
Fuck.
I scrambled across the rug, past the Sociology section and into the next room. Ashley’s heels creaked on the stairs. I scanned the room for a hiding place. A faded velvet chaise lounge faced a small coffee table in the center of the room. There was enough space between the couch and the bookshelf for me to squeeze in. I dropped to my knees again and crawled into the gloom, hoping my arse wasn’t hanging out the other end and giving me away.
Behind the couch, a blanket of dust and piles of black furballs congregated in an unholy meeting of the damned. I covered my mouth with my hand and tried to think about something other than the desperate tickle in the back of my throat. From here, I had a view of the top of the staircase, the landing, and the room beyond.
Ashley emerged on the landing, and wandered into the room I’d just vacated – the one that held the Folio Society books, as well as shelves of psychology and sociology books. Ashley stepped over the pile I’d left on the floor and stopped in front of the Sociology section.
Watching her from my hiding place, my mind swirled with emotions. She lookedfierce. Of course she did – fierce was Ashley’sbrand. She had thirty thousand online followers thanks to her daily ‘What I Wore’ snaps and her stories from the inside of the fashion world. She spent hours on her clothes and makeup every day to make sure she looking perfect. Today was no different – she’d dyed her short hair a Miami Beach blonde. Her pixie face leaned in close to the shelf as she studied the spines, her pouty lips framed in her signature red lipstick.
Ashley wore a pleated skirt and a black chiffon blouse with bell sleeves and huge cuffs, paired with black lace-up boots that looked straight out of a Victorian mourning portrait or a New York sex club. Her betrayal stung my heart, but my arms itched to propel myself from my hiding place and embrace her.
Ashley and I became friends at fifteen, during PE class. I was faking a ‘woman's curse’ to get out of cricket practice and she was benched for punching Sabrina Winter in the face. I stiffened when she sat down next to me. She’d been in my classes for years and I’d always avoided her because she was loud and terrifying. Ashley leaned over and tugged down the top of my book. “Nice shirt,” she smirked.
