Tom passed Bailey the coffee cup. Bailey took a sip of the hot drink as he leaned against the van.
“Thanks so much. I really needed this.”
“Busy day?” Tom asked.
Bailey nodded. “Uh-huh. Thank God it’s nearly over. How’s your day been?”
“John and Phil are here. They’re inside with Cassie. We’re doing some planning for the renovations. If Phil has his way it’ll turn into a full remodelling project, and John’s just encouraging him, agreeing with everything he says and shouting down any opposition I raise. And Cassie? Jeez, that girl is full of ideas. She wants to rearrange the main room, moving all the furniture and changing the seating arrangements, and of course she’s going on about the live entertainment again.”
“And you’re not interested?” Bailey asked before taking another sip of coffee.
“No, no, Iaminterested. I think her ideas make a lot of sense, but I think I’m best focusing on one step at a time. Expanding hours of operation might not be feasible, and it’d mean more work for me.”
Bailey smiled. “Well we can’t have that, can we? More work for you means less of you for me. But seriously, you could consider Saturdays. Start small, you know? You already open nine to four, and the weekend crowd is different to the workday customers. You could try out the live entertainment idea with them, maybe during the brunch or lunch window?”
“That actually makes sense. Thanks, Bailey. And Cassie will be happy and get off my back.” He chuckled.
“Glad to be of service. Anyway, I’d better get this van open for business, and you better not keep your partners in crime waiting. Thanks for the caffeine boost.” Bailey handed Tom his now empty cup, moved behind the van, and opened the doors wide.
“Jesus Christ, Bailey,” Tom said as he peered into the back of the van. He laughed. “It looks like you’re carrying your whole life around in there. How many boxes of books do you need at any one time?”
The whole van was stuffed to overflowing with boxes. There was no spare floor space and the cardboard boxes reached the ceiling of the vehicle. There was no way Bailey would even be able to get to the boxes at the rear.
“I don’t— Oh.” Bailey followed Tom’s gaze, peering at the boxes as though it was the first time he’d seen them. “Yeah. I need to find some storage.”
“I can help you out.” He didn’t even need to think about it, the answer was so obvious. “There’s space in the storeroom inside, or if you don’t mind them being outside the main building, you can put them in the garage out the back.”
“Really?”
“Don’t look so shocked.” Tom chuckled. “Of course you can store them here. Isn’t it easier, what with the books being distributed from here anyway? You can replenish or whatever it is you do when you arrive each evening.”
“Are you sure?”
“Bailey.” He placed his hands on Bailey’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “You don’t even have to ask. Of course I’m bloody sure.”
“It’s just that you do so much for me.”
Tom snorted. “It’s no skin off my nose, Bails. It’s only a storeroom. Okay, I’ll leave you to it then.”
He headed back inside, excited to reconvene with John and Cassie and get the plans for the cafe firmed up.
* * *
An hour or so later, Tom exited the building. He was impatient for Bailey to see his plans and hoped to lure him inside. Hopefully he’d been there long enough to have gotten all the library business out of the way for the night.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
The sound of Bailey’s loud swearing had him breaking into a run, unsure if the swearing was in anger or if Bailey was in some kind of danger. Whatever the cause, the sound of distress sent a chill through him. Tom rounded the van and came to a halt at the passenger side where Bailey was now seated on his arse, back against the metal of the vehicle. The doors were shut, the lights off, leaving Bailey sitting in the shadows. It was hard to make out his face in the dimness.
Tom crashed to his knees beside Bailey. “Jesus, Bailey, are you okay? Are you hurt? Tell me what’s wrong? Did someone do something to you?” The words tumbled out in a panic.
Bailey looked up, the building’s floodlight reflecting off the tears tracking his cheeks. “I’m o-okay.”
“Fuck, Bails. You’re not okay.” Tom grasped his cold hands. “Tell me what happened.”
Bailey glanced beside him. “I got a flat.”
“A flat?” Tom repeated in a monotone. He looked down to where Bailey indicated. “You got a flat tyre?”
