In that small alcove off the living room that would probably have once served as a nursery when the house was a single Victorian residence, Morrie pulled up a chair beside a sleek black desk. Unlike everything else about Nevermore, this desk was a work of modern art – a gleaming expanse of steel and glass, holding three screens arranged in a semi-circle around a high-backed chair, and beneath it a black computer stack and mechanical keyboard.
“So you’re a gamer.” I rolled my eyes, recognizing some of the gadgets from the apartment of a gamer boyfriend I’d had back in New York City. Judging by Morrie’s setup, he’d spent serious money on this rig.
“In a manner of speaking.” Morrie pulled out the chair and beckoned me to sit. I did so, marveling how the chair conformed to my curves. A brief deviant fantasy of straddling Morrie while he sat in that chair and smirked up at me crossed my mind, and I reveled in it for a moment while he leaned across to adjust the keyboard. His arm brushed mine and I regretted not purchasing that box of condoms.
He’s been text-flirting with you all day,Ashley’s voice scolded me inside my head. She did always know it all when it came to guys.He invited you back to his flat late at night. He keeps flashing you that smile. Go for it, honey!
Not while Heathcliff and Quoth are here. These walls must be paper-thin and uninsulated.The idea of working with Heathcliff after he heard Morrie and I shagging made all sexual desire flee my body.I don’t need any more complications in my life right now. I’m just going to build a website, that’s all.
I glanced around the different screens, deliberately avoiding perving at Morrie. Data streamed down one screen too fast for my eyes to track. “What’s all this? I thought you didn’t have a job anymore?”
“Nope. I’m freelance now. I told you I’d be fine.”
“What do you do, exactly?”
“As my contemporaries like to say, I’ve been endowed with a phenomenal mathematical faculty.” Morrie’s hand brushed my shoulder as he settled me into the chair, sending a shiver through my body that had nothing to do with a draft. “This means I do whatever interests me. Some years back I published a book on asteroids. My last job was in finance. On the train today I taught myself to hard-code a website. Want to see what I’ve come up with?”
“You mean, do I want to see the website you put together after teaching yourself on the train? Yes, please. I could use a laugh.” I pictured a terrible mess with flashing text and an overabundance of exclamation points.
Moriarty leaned over to click the mouse, his body looming over mine. I sensed the tension in his muscles as he moved the mouse.Is he as turned-on as I am?“I’ve already purchased a domain name and set up this basic site. The online shop is a plugin for our catalogue on The-Store-That Shall-Not-Be-Named. I even managed to find a picture of Heathcliff looking somewhat normal. All it need is some text and photographs, and maybe a mailing list.”
“No mailing list,” Heathcliff called from in front of the fire.
“Go back to your book,” I shot back.
“It’s hard to concentrate with you two trying to ruin my business.”
Morrie showed me how to navigate between the different elements. “If you place the cursor in this box, you can add text for the homepage. There’s the About Us page, and the Find Us page, with an interactive map of ___field.”
I stared at the blank box on the screen, my fingers frozen over the keys. “What do I type?”
“Just information about the shop. You’re trying to make it sound appealing so people will come visit us and then Heathcliff will stop being such a scrooge about using hot water.” Morrie wiped a sodden curl off his forehead. I gulped.Right, just write some stuff while Morrie watches. Uh-huh. Easy.
I tapped my finger against the E key. Bookshop. Books. Reading. Escape. What could I say about Nevermore Books that captured the way I felt about the place?
An idea sprung from thin air and tapped me on the shoulder. I typed, “Nevermore Books – where you find stories you never knew you needed.”
“You’ve got this, gorgeous.” Morrie’s sexy voice caressed my ear. “Keep going.”
My fingers flew over the keyboard as I called up my memories of escaping to Nevermore after school and of the solace and comfort I found between the pages here. I conjured up a labyrinth of shelves where anything could be lurking, and even made a note about meeting the “friendly bookshop raven.”
“It’s a bit of a stretch,” I said, pointing to the raven part. “But he’s so unusual I think we have to include him.”
“Croak,” agreed the raven, who’d fluttered in and perched on the back of the monitor.
“Yes, yes.” I typed furiously. “I’m adding a bit about not quoting Poe.”
“This is brilliant.” Morrie leaned over my shoulder to get a better look at the screen. My fingers slipped on the keys. I’d forgotten he was right there. “You’re a natural.”
“A natural at not quoting Poe?”
“No, a natural writer. I can solve a Navier-Stokes equation in seconds, but I’d have stared at that screen for hours and not come up with something as eloquent as what you’ve written in ten minutes. You could sell sand in the desert with your words.”
“Please, don’t talk to me about selling sand.” One of my mum’s earliest schemes was a healing scrub made from ‘authentic' Damascus sand she’d scooped off the beach at Blackpool. I suspected she was still paying off the Environment Agency fine.
I typed in some info on the rest of the pages, finishing up on the About Us page. I poised to tell our potential punters a little about their surly proprietor, then realized I didn’t know a thing about Heathcliff. His accent was Northern and he couldn’t have grown up in ___field, because he’d have gone to my school and I would have remembered him. Everyone kept calling him a gypsy, and his dark skin and prominent nose certainly suggested an eastern lineage. Where did he come from? Had he gone to university? What made someone so young and built for hard labor decide to run a musty old bookshop?
“Heathcliff, can you come in here?” I yelled.
