“Oh, the bookstore owner, right?” he asks as he scribbles my name.
How does everyone…?
Right. Small town.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“When you come back and the machine’s up, you can pay then,” he says, writing down my total next to “Kate Lynn Book Woman.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“That’s what my dad says to do. It’s fine,” he says with another nonchalant shrug.
“Well, thanks mister…?” I trail off and extend my hand.
“No mister, just Mike,” he says as he puts the handles of the bag in my waiting handshake.
“Cool, thanks again. I’ll be back in a few days,” I say as I turn for the exit.
“Good luck with that place,” he calls after me.
“I’m gonna need it,” I mumble as I head out into the cold afternoon.
How it is so chilly inMaystill baffles me.
Oscar mewls incessantly when I get back to the car and it sounds pretty grumpy. Not a “I have to poop” meow, or “I’m hungry,” but something new. Maybe “I’ve been in a cage too long” meow. I’m not sure how I feel about having Oscar outside the cage with that enormous, rude, absolutely shredded—
“Ack! Stop thinking about his muscles!”
Oscar meows louder over my admonishment.
We pull into the gravel drive and I park, staring at the door. Oscar goes on and on about how terrible his life is while I think about howmuch worse it could be. Just a flash of claws and poor little baby is gone…
Rage swells in my stomach at the thought of anyone hurting my boy. I would peel that dragon’s scales off one by one and give him a salt bath.
But that shouldn’t be necessary. He said Oscar was welcome…
In myownhome. The prick. Gosh dang it I want to give him what for, but how?
My gaze drifts to the ancient copy ofMoby Dicknext to one of the grocery bags. The tip of the lighter pokes out the top, sparking an idea. I would never actually burn a book, but maybe if I threatened to, I could get that hunky jerk to agree to some terms.
“Stay here baby, I’ll be right back,” I tell a still screaming Oscar as I grab the lighter and the book.
The paper is so delightfully textured under my fingers. They really don’t make them like they used to. Thisisa treasure, but I have to do what I have to do to ensure our safety.
I tuck the book under my arm and get out the key to the shop. My hand trembles as I turn the tumbler, then stuff the keys in my pocket. I open the door wide and then strike the lighter.Moby Dicklooks so fragile in my other hand, and my guts churn. I could easily destroy it on accident. I have to be very careful.
I take a determined step into the building and stop at the base of the stairs to the apartment.
“Dragon! Come down!” I yell.
There’s a quick flourish of black ink and he’s there before me. He sniffs the air twice, then snarls and moves in. My body tenses at his quick movement, but I don’t let myself freeze up.
I hold the lighter closer toMoby Dick. “Not another step!”
He stops in his tracks, a feral grimace putting his fangs fully on display.
“You charlatan,” he growls. “You claim to love books, yet hold a flame so close to one?”
