She shakes her head. ‘He’s staying with us. Arrived yesterday.’
‘What? He’s staying with you?’
‘Frank couldn’t allow his boss’s son to stay in the Travelodge. Anyway, I knew you wouldn’t be able to say no. As I said to Frank, give Nelly a few days.’
I clench my fists by my side, and an angry red filter slips in front of my eyes. Why does it feel like she has masterminded this entire situation?
She twirls a strand of her brown hair around her finger. ‘That angry look you’re giving me doesn’t suit you.’
I remind myself she is my boss, and I need this job. ‘What is he like?’
‘Oliver is a bit rough around the edges. Not quite like his profile picture, but you could tidy him up.’ Grabbing my hand, she reluctantly leads me away from the till to the romance section. I silently groan at the Frank pushing a pram vision as she surveys our shelves filled with sugary, pink-coloured books, the display table, and the two dusty pink armchairs, where readers eager to dive into a book feel as if they’re at home. The world becomes muffled. I can’t hear what she’s saying, which is a blessing.
Miranda is still talking when the sound returns to my ears. ‘Forget my idea of dressing him in tight jeans and a white string vest. I would put Oliver in a tweed suit. I would also escort him to the nearest barber.’
‘He might not want to tidy himself up.’
She ignores my comment. ‘Oliver has got that brooding, tortured artist thing going on. Frank says he’s struggling with writer’s block.’
‘As long as Oliver stays in his room, we will be fine.’
Miranda gives me a bewildered look. ‘Nelly, the world needs Oliver’s romance books. You must do all you can to support and guide him through this dark, creative time.’
‘I would be his flatmate, not his therapist.’
She’s not listening to me. ‘When he does his book signing event…’ She pauses, pointing both index fingers at me. ‘We haven’t discussed this yet, but you can work on him about that… I think we will place his signing table here, so he has the pretty shelves as a backdrop. What do you think?’
Being in this section of the bookshop for too long makes me uncomfortable. After clawing at my itchy neck, I check my watch. To my relief, I see that it’s time for us to open. ‘I need to open the doors.’
She doesn’t hear me as she’s lost in her thoughts about Oliver’s book signing event.
A male customer excitedly enters, eager to grab the latest trending book from a well-known crime author, along with a stressed mother and her noisy little boy heading to the children’s section. As she walks by, she grimaces and says, ‘This is the only place that will keep him quiet for more than five minutes.’
I keep myself busy by sorting out the online book orders and try not to think about Oliver James becoming my flatmate.
‘Is the free Wi-Fi working?’ A young boy approaches the counter with his iPad. I call Miranda, who hurries into the back room to fiddle with the control box. I smile at the boy. ‘It will be working again soon.’
‘Excuse me, do you work here?’ I look up from my online order list to see the woman with the little boy, smiling at me. His little hands try to grab the boxes of pens and glittery notebooks.
‘Yes. How can I help?’
She beams and lets go of her son’s hand. He races off, shrieking with delight. ‘Do you have this author’s debut book in stock? It was published a few years ago, but I can’t find it.’ To my horror, she waves Oliver James’s latest book at me.
A groan escapes my lips, causing the woman’s smile to evaporate.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to groan at you,’ I say quickly, before my behaviour leads to a complaint. I must think on my feet since she doesn’t want to hear that I don’t seem to be able to escape this author.
‘He’s the author everyone wants to read right now. I bet you’re deluged with requests like mine.’ She has provided me with a way out.
‘Yes, that’s right.’
She gives me the details, and I check the laptop.
‘It should be in stock.’ I put on a fake smile, and we walk to the romance section, passing Miranda, who is back from fiddling with the Wi-Fi and is now busy taking photos of the display table piled high with Oliver’s latest romance. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort out the social media and watch the till, Nelly,’ Miranda sighs, with a dramatic hand to her brow. ‘I think I am doing too much.’
My irritation spikes. ‘Do you want to find this customer’s book? I can stay on the till and sort out Instagram.’
Miranda casts me a sugary smile. ‘Go ahead and look for the book. Once you’re finished, I might need a little nap.’
