Get to You, page 2
His head falls back as he laughs lowly. The overhead lights shine down affording me a better view of his face. He's---holy shit he's gorgeous.
My stomach knots and I remember he's asked me a question, so I answer. "It was an accident, I’m sure." He looks down again obscuring his face. I'm grateful I can think more clearly without the view.
He still seems amused, but shakes his head before explaining, "He was checking out your ass." He looks down. “Hard not to,” he adds almost guiltily. My mouth drops open.
"He was not," I admonish. Ignoring the insult.
"Ah, yeah he was," he states like he's certain. I scoff quietly and turn to grab my own cart that's half full. I drop the ruined strawberries on the top and start walking away. His low chuckle and even lower murmur almost stop me in my tracks. Whatever he said it was too low for me to hear. I keep moving forward determined to leave quickly. I sweep my hands quickly over my rear making sure the sweater is still covering my bottom.
At the register, I'm greeted by Melinda. She smiles easily and maintains small talk while ringing up my groceries.
"Is Jude working tonight?" She asks looking up briefly.
"Yeah he's there," I say distractedly.
"Great I think I'll stop by after work,"she finishes with a knowing smile.
Jude has his own following. I think half the customers that come in during his shift are less interested in books than they are to ogle the handsome man. I sigh inwardly but plaster a smile on my lips. If only my book store brought in as much business as my flirtatious barista.
I nod before replying, "I'm sure he'd like that." I cringe at the false hope I've just given her, but to say he's taken by a man just as lovely as himself would probably cause a small riot in my store along with a loss of business we can't afford.
A throat clears behind me, drawing my attention away from the clearly smitten young woman in front of me. When my eyes meet the same helpful, yet mocking stranger, my cheeks flush. I turn back to Malinda; she tells me my total.
"You're not walking with all these bags tonight, are you?" She questions, "I'm pretty sure Phil can wave a cab down for you." She calls Phil over to do just that before I can even muster a response. "Phil will you get Samantha a cab please?" I open my mouth to protest, but the older man with wide set eyes and an easy smile nods.
"Hiya Sammy. You look so pretty today. " His soft checks lift even further, and my heart melts at his familiar greeting and compliment.
"Awe, thank you Phil. You look quite dashing yourself. Is that a new tie?" His chubby hands smooth over the tie knotted at his throat that depicts Scooby Doo eating a giant slice of pizza. It suits him so well that my smile grows into a grin.
"Mom found it on eBay! Isn't it great?" I nod and grab a few of my bags. Melinda has a store of cloth sacks reserved for return customers. Phil grabs the rest.
I turn back and address Melinda, "I forgot my other bags today. I'll drop them by tomorrow before I open the store." She nods, and I wave before as Phil asks if I have any new comic books in.
I'm in luck. A cab stops at the curb moments after we step out the door. Phil is finishing up with loading the trunk when the door to the store slicks open, revealing the strong figure of my playful stranger. His eyes and upper face are still obscured by the bill of his ball cap, but I can feel him looking right at me. His finger grazes the brim like he might actually be tipping his hat at me. He grins, and the shadow caused by the cap frames it. Why would such a handsome man hide his face like that?
I shake me head and hand Phil a ten for helping me with my bags.
"I'll see you soon Phil. Be good."
His face is serious as he responds, "I will Sammy.”
2
After paying for the short cab ride home, I drop my bags in the entry. I check my box for mail as it’s only a few steps from the main entrance. I gladly find it empty. I use the stores mailing address, so the only mail I get at home is junk.
I have frequented the BB & B daily since I first moved to New York with my school being only a couple blocks away. I found solace in the quiet old store. Mr. B, noticing my regular presence, started giving me odd jobs to do. I began taking on more responsibilities in the store during my senior year, suggesting he bring his business into the twenty-first century by taking his store online. He questioned the need for an online store but told me if I set it up for him I could share in the profits.
The summer I graduated high school, I got the page up and running. A year later Mr. B's profits were soaring. A year after that, he handed me the keys and said there was no one else who would take better care of his store.
Mr. B now lives in Hawaii. I still send him a share of the profit, plus a fixed rate for purchasing the building and business. Sometimes, things are slow, and I have to pay my employees from my own account, but I always manage enough to send my payments to him. Rita left me more money than I could ever spend. Without Rita and Mr. B, I'm not sure where I'd be today.
It takes me three trips up the stairs to deliver all my bags. You'd think all the walking and taking the stairs repeatedly would shrink my fat ass, but that's doesn’t seem to be the case. With that thought I’m reminded of the stranger’s deep voice telling me about the boy caught staring at my behind. I scoff but think it's big enough to draw attention and I guess public comment.
After putting everything where it belongs, I collect all the cloth bags and the few from my previous trip. I place them on the small table near my door. Hopefully, I'll remember to return them in the morning.
Tired from the long day, I decide to make a simple dinner,. I sit down and enjoy some mindless television as I eat, trying to blot out the stranger’s comment from my mind.
A few episodes in, my phone vibrates with a notification. I grab it from the ottoman that doubles as a coffee table with the large tray on it.
The store’s Facebook account has a new follower.
Beau Winchester is now following you.
The picture that pops up is a blue Great Dane with one light blue eye and one so dark it almost looks black. His big droopy eyes give him a sad look while the sun shines down on his beautiful smooth coat, making it gleam In the background of the picture is a large, grassy field. I can just barely make out a white split rail fence and a huge red barn. It’s a relief to see the large dog has room to run and play. Living in the city, it’s sad to see large dogs trapped in studio apartments. You can feel how much the person taking the picture loves this animal.
I click the picture to navigate to the page itself. Unfortunately, it's marked private. I can only see a few images none of which are depicting a person, but it says Beau lives in Lake Tahoe and is twenty-nine years old. The profile doesn't raise any red flags, so I go back to the stores page and see it's been quiet all week. I add a quick post.
Status Update: B B & B is feeling: useless 😡
Don't worry guys! Jess and all her coffee making glory, will grace us with her presence tomorrow morning!
I close the app and check my emails. No new book requests for our monthly book club, but I do have a few book suggestions from my favorite book blogger. I jot down the authors’ names and book titles to add to my TBR pile. I drop my phone back down and it immediately starts buzzing again. I snatch it up and see another Facebook notification.
Beau Winchester posted on your page:
Do you offer a book club?
I click the reply button.
We do have a book club that meets once a month. Our next meeting is this Wednesday, and we're set to discuss Fifty Shades of Gray written by E. L. James. You're welcome to join us.
I laugh to myself, thinking no man named Beau would dare come to a book club where FSoG is the topic.
The screen of my phone lights up
Beau Winchester replied:
I guess I could do a re-read. What time Wednesday?
My mouth falls open in shock. Not only does he openly admit to reading it, but he's also willing to discuss it with a bookclub.
I reply.
Seven o'clock
Then drop my phone down still stunned.
The next morning, as I leave my studio, a fluttering of paper draws my attention. My heart rate picks up as I near it. It wasn't there last night. Someone was here while I was sleeping. Did someone break in?
I take a moment to look around the entryway, seeing if any other differences are noticeable. I walk slowly to the paper as if it might reach out and bite me. The thought of my fear being triggered by a minimal item, spurs my aggravation. I walk quickly to the offending paper and grab it from the seam of my box.
It's a flyer for a painting service. What? How did they even get in here? My gaze strays to the door of the vacant studio. It must have sold. The painters must have shoved it in the box on their way out, as an advertisement. Who gets their house painted that late or this early?
Crumpling the paper, I feel little relief. It just servers as a reminder that I'll never feel safe. There will never be a time when I can stop looking over my shoulder, anticipating danger.
It's hard to accept that Darryl gave up so easy, especially after all the promises he made to find me if I ever ran or tried to tell someone.
I shudder as I begin to hear his voice in my head, telling me exactly what he'd do to me when he found me.
I push my thoughts aside and focus on the day ahead. First, I need to return the bags and then open the store. I'll submerge myself in work today, eradicating these memories.
***
Anna and Jess are standing together huddled over a phone both, so engrossed in what they're looking at that they don't notice my approach.
"OMG!" Anna squeals. I roll my eyes. I will never appreciate text speak. "Did you hear that?" She gushes placing her hand over her heart. "I-Can't-Believe-He's-Giving-It-Up!" She says between pants. I think she might go into convulsions. She's jumping up and down. Looking at Jess and then down to the phone like she might have missed something. "I don't know if I'm sad he's done acting, or happy he's moving to New York," she whines.
"Yeah, but that's not been confirmed. They just said he was spotted at the airport. He could have been here for any reason. It doesn't mean he staying," Jess replies calmly, a voice of reason.
Anna's eyes are big as she finally turns to me. "I'm so excited," she mock whispers. I laugh at her exuberance.
"What's got you all a flustered?" I ask once the door is open.
"Oh, nothing really, just the fact that my favorite actor is retiring in the prime of his career.” Her speech speeds up, and her voice goes higher with every word, “And he might be here in New York!"
I'm tempted to put my fingers in my ears and make a show of wiggling them, in an attempt to try and restore my normal hearing.
"Wow Anna. Just wow," is my only reply.
Her silly behavior is quickly forgotten as each of us tend to customers.
I talk to Jess, “I'm giving you a dollar raise. You’re vital and were missed yesterday.”
She giggles evilly, saying, "It’s all part of the plan." She winks and brews a drink so complex that I'm not sure if it still qualifies as coffee. I bow to her gracefully and retreat to my area books. I know my books.
As the day progresses, I become absorbed in my routine, and all the memories from earlier evaporate as I find calm in my tasks. When it gets close to six, I wave to the evening crew as I head out the door. I survey the shop from the door. Every seat is occupied by someone reading or working on laptop. Jude is particularly busy at the coffee cart. I might need to add another person to help him ring up orders. The coffee cart brings in an entirely new customer base and needs additional assistance as the store has become quite the gathering place.
It’s amazing to see the evolution of my business, and with that final thought, I exit.
The tapping of my boot heels on the concrete mixes with all the other noises of the city. I've come to love this place and consider it my home. Horns blare and voices meld into each other as I look straight ahead making sure to follow the pace of the foot traffic. It took a few months, before I understood this ebb and flow. A tourist sees it as a rush of bodies barely bouncing off each other, but anyone who spends any extended amount of time in New York sees it for what it truly is- a delicate dance performed en masse. The only ones stepping on toes are the wide-eyed newbies.
***
I bypass my mailbox, ignoring the fact it’s the first time I've neglected it since I've lived here. The flyer this morning has me spooked.
My white washed door greets me, unadorned, in the same condition I left it. I sigh as I open it.
I take my time with dinner. I wish I didn't enjoy food as much as I do. I love it more than I want to fit into a size twelve or have a smaller ass.
I eat alone. It’s a normal routine I’ve had since Rita passed away. It usually doesn't bother me, but tonight I'm lonely.
I remember cooking with my mom, sharing a meal with Rita when I got home from school, and having a coffee with Mr. B. They all would hate to see how I've chosen to live. Rita, in particular, because she was my biggest cheerleader and always reminding me of all the great things life has to offer. If I could change, I would. I've tried going out with friends; I've even gone out on a few dates. I'm just never comfortable enough to enjoy myself with others. So, this is what I chose. I come home alone everyday so I can be comfortable, and it's usually enough.
Just not tonight.
I crawl into bed with a new book as a distraction. Hours later, it falls from my hands as I finally drift to sleep.
I wake before my alarm clock the next morning. My alarm is set a little later than usual, because I'll be at the store late for the book club. I don't have to leave for a few more hours so I take care planning an outfit. I usually have to begin the discussion, standing in front of everyone with their eyes on me. The thought makes me self conscious, so I put more effort in dressing.
I decide on jeans, just a nicer pair than usual. My shirt is a sheer and white tunic. I rethink wearing it a few times but end up dismissing my alternatives as I wrap a belt beneath my breast. I can see a hint of my light pink French cut bra, but the white lace upper cup creates the illusion that I'm wearing a cami, so I think it will be alright. I pull out a chunky heeled wingtip shoe that I only get to wear on days when I’m not walking to work.
I leave my long hair free down my back but curl the ends to give it some style. I don't often wear much more than mascara, but after looking at my reflection, I decide to add a little eyeliner and blush today.
I move to the kitchen having accomplished my task. I plan to make a couple small dishes for the few people showing up tonight. Typically, there are anywhere between five to ten people that come, but with the Fifty Shades series being so popular I think there could be a few new members.
The image of a Great Dane fills my mind, making me smile. I shake my head to get back on track with my planning.
Book clubs are great for business, so I always throw a little something together for the people that come. The old store has the perfect atmosphere for cozy get togethers. The seating area on the second floor works perfectly.
I decide to make my warm spinach and artichoke dip. I'll prepare it in the crockpot I keep at work for just this kind of occasion. If I make that and a veggie tray with a few deserts, all I will need to do is prep work, a little baking, and arranging. Easy enough.
When I've got everything ready I call a cab so I don't have to lug half the contents of my fridge the few blocks to work.
***
Keys in hand, I lock up. My things are waiting for me downstairs by the main entry.
A cab pulls up to the curb, just as I am opening the door. He honks the horn for a long second.
I start loading my few bags onto the seat. I've been doing this for almost a year now, and I've simplified the packing process greatly from when I first began. Even though I'm making more refreshments than usual, I have only one small bag containing a few ingredients and one large bag of carrying trays for the finished snacks or desserts.
Anna opens the door for me and takes one of the bags from my hands. She grunts from the weight and sets it down next to the register.
"Please tell me why you drag all this stuff here every month. Why don't you just have it catered?" She asks struggling with why I would go to the trouble of making everything at home.
"I enjoy doing it Anna," I answer simply. She doesn’t understand, but it's all I have I can tell her.
She sighs, like she's the one who's spent the last two hours preparing everything. I ignore her small frown.
The chairs surrounding Jess are full, and she has two people waiting in line. I wave to her and smile as I pass. She eyes the bag in my hand and the other on the floor near Anna.
"What'd you make for us today Sam?" The difference between these two women is on full display. Jess sees the value of home cooking, whereas Anna would rather just pick something up.
"A few things. I need to get your favorite going though," I smile and finish taking the stuff to the small lounge. Her eyes crinkle at the corners.
She "Oohs" appropriately. She loves my spinach and artichoke dip.
I see a few bodies milling around on the second floor, but everything seems under control for the time being.
3
I'm on the second floor finishing set up, when George calls up to ask if I need a hand. It’s the second time he has called up. I shake my head and call down a polite decline.
A low coffee table holds most of the treats while a long narrow table against the wall holds the rest of the food and some bottles of water.
I peer over the scrolled metal balcony, noticing a few people moving about the store. Mickey and her sister Cookie who show up every month are flirting shamelessly with Jude while they order a couple hot drinks. I know for certain they’ve met Mark, but both enjoy a bit of harmless flirting.
I turn from the balcony to walk down the curved staircase a few steps and announce to any newcomers where the meeting will take place.
