I find a parking spot and let myself into the store. Piper is easy to find, and I spot her right away like a bright beam of sunlight on an otherwise bleak day. She is chatting with Ravi in front of a section of books, her arms waving while she tries to make her point.
Ravi listens intently, then shakes his head.
Okay, I have to know what they’re disagreeing about.
I shove my hands into my pockets and make my way toward them.
“They’re pretty much the same thing,” Ravi argues. “People who wanthisbooks”—he points at the D.M. James books—“also want his.” He points at Clancy Calloway’s.
“But we should give James an entire endcap. You saw that line, Rav. I want to capitalize on the obvious audience—” Piper looks up and notices me, her words dying a sudden and total death. She flushes cherry-tomato red to the roots of her hair, which is weird. It’s not that big a deal to want to capitalize on what was clearly a successful event. That’s just good business sense. “Oh, hey,” she says breezily.
Except it’s not that breezy. Loaded would more accurately describe her greeting, and I can’t put my finger on why. Maybe it’s the reason she’s white-knuckling my debut hardback to the point that I’m surprised it hasn’t caved in yet. I reach for the book and gently pry her fingers off it. “What’s the problem?”
“No problem,” she says quickly, flashing the fakest smile in her repertoire.
A customer walks in, and Ravi salutes his boss. “On it.”
The book is warm, making me think she’s been holding it for a while. “You’re devoting an entire endcap to me? I’m honored.” I notice the stack of books next to mine and pick one up. Clancy Calloway. “Oh, I see. Ravi wants to split the focus. It’s a good idea. These are the same audience.”
“I mean, kind of.”
I lower the book and peer at her. Has her face gotten even redder? “Well, Calloway’s books are cleaner.”
She seems to freeze. “Cleaner?”
“Maybe that’s the wrong word. Tidier? It feels like everything wraps up with a nice little bow.”
Piper stares. “Which is what we want when we read. Closure.”
“Right, yeah. Every book should close all the gaps.”
“Your books tie up all the loose ends. Everything clicks together at the end.”
“But it’s not?—”
“Wait,” she says, grabbing my arm. I flex on impulse. “You meanconvenient, don’t you?”
Definitely, but with how personally she’s taking it, I don’t want to admit that now. “Not exactly.”
Piper shoves me. “I can’t believe you said that. There’s literally a reason for everything in these books.”
“Right, but a conven?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” Piper lifts a stack of Calloway books and flips through them until she findsJagged Risers. She waves it in front of me. “Was it convenient when all the people came together at the end and saved Mary from her grandma?”
“Well, Jackson showing up at the gas station kind of filled a need.”
Piper slams the book down and clenches her jaw. “Okay. Cool. I think it makes perfect sense, since Jackson smoked like a train engine and complained about running out of cigarettes earlier in the day, but you’re right. Convenient.”
Had Jackson made that complaint? Maybe I was skimming too fast and missed that part. “I might not have caught the?—”
“Clearly.”
I have other examples, but I want to be friends with her, so it’s time to drop it. “Should we talk about the class?”
Piper inhales slowly. “Sure. We can meet in my office.” She searches the store until her gaze lands on her employee, who’s hanging out near the register. “Rav? We’re heading to the back. Will you finish this up if you have a second?”
“Sure thing.”
