By My Side

by Grant C. Holland

  There was also the small groups, mostly senior citizens, who liked to gather and socialize quietly in corners of the bookstore. Some of them even went as far as stopping at the Perks Coffee Shop down the street and then bringing their coffee to Undercover to sit and socialize. They explained to Derek that they preferred the bookstore for their social gatherings because the restaurants and the coffee shop were, “too noisy,” and, “they always expect you to buy something.”

  Derek made a herculean effort to put the bookstore out of his mind as he settled into typing on the laptop. Houston Brant had to dive under a car to protect himself from the force of the explosion. To his surprise, he found Lyla Perforce doing the same from the opposite side. She had long, blonde hair and piercing green eyes. He crossed out green, and then he altered it to azure blue eyes, “the color of the Caribbean Sea.”

  Derek sighed heavily. He thought the book was already sounding trite, and he was barely past the first page. He spoke out loud. Talking about the plot out loud often helped him sort through sticky situations.

  He said, “Maybe, instead of Lyla, Houston found a strange man in a long black overcoat who would turn out to have a key artifact necessary to solving the ultimate puzzle of his new case. It would be something so precious that the strange man kept it in a safe embedded in the wall of his personal library.”

  Derek nodded to himself. He felt like he was finally getting somewhere. In the book, injured people were scattered around moaning and asking themselves what happened. Then, less than ten minutes after the first explosion, the cell phones began to ring. Most of them were answered quickly, but some, those belonging to the dead or most severely injured, just rang and rang.

  When his own cell phone rang, Derek jumped. It turned out to be his mother. Stella Bradshaw was one of the stalwart members of Catlett’s Cove’s old guard. She inherited her position from her own mother who died young at age sixty-two. Stella served on the board of trustees for the public library and the county museum. She was an avid gardener, and she had the ear of every local elected official from the mayor to school board members and the drain commissioner. She often professed, “no interest in politics whatsoever,” but that didn’t keep her from sharing her opinions with those in power.

  She said, “Derek, I was just calling to make sure that you remembered your agreement to speak with my women’s club from the church. It is an important gathering, and I wouldn’t want you to forget and embarrass both of us.”

  Derek sighed and said, “I have it right here on my calendar.”

  “Right here?” she asked. “Does that mean you’re home and looking at that calendar I gave you at Christmas to hang on the refrigerator? It’s a perfect place for a calendar because you look at the refrigerator door everyday.”

  He said, “No, Mom, I’m at the bookstore, but yes, it’s on the calendar at home, and it’s also on my calendar on the computer. I consult that calendar multiple times a day. Don’t worry, I won’t forget.” Derek paused, drummed his fingers on the table and then asked, “How is Dad doing? You mentioned something about him having a bad cold over the weekend. It’s nothing serious, is it?”

  Stella said, “No, it’s nothing serious at all. He was up half the night last night coughing, but he seemed much better today. Derek, maybe you should stop by on a Saturday and spend the day with your father. He would enjoy going on a fishing trip or hiking in the state park. You really should get in touch with him sometime and suggest something like that.”

  She pushed one of Derek’s most vulnerable buttons. His parents rarely pursued social interactions directly with him. Instead, they disguised it in suggestions that he ask the other parent about getting together. Derek knew that if his father would actually speak with him over the phone, there would be similar suggestions that he call his mother and go out to lunch with her or perhaps take her for a shopping afternoon on Main Street. Somewhere deep in his heart, he longed for one or both parents to express a direct interest in spending time together.

  Derek said, “Mom, I have some writing that I really need to get back to. I will be there at the women’s meeting with bells on. Don’t worry, none of you will be disappointed.”

  He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “They are so impressed with me having raised a published author. Just the other day, Sally Lister was speaking about how many people now have heard of Catlett’s Cove because they love your books. You make us all look good, Derek. Maybe the mayor should declare a special day in your honor.”

  Derek cringed at the suggestion. He said, “Thank you, Mom, I appreciate it. Now goodnight and a big hug for both you and Dad. I love you.”

  She said, “I love you, too, Derek. Goodnight.”

  It was less than six months since Derek’s Uncle Don fell victim to a sudden, massive stroke while he was working alone in the bookstore. A customer found him, but it was far too late. He was pronounced dead on the scene. The funeral was a massive local event. The church couldn’t hold the entire crowd that wanted to pay their respects.

  Derek knew before Uncle Don died that he would someday inherit the bookstore. That was planned, but it was not expected to happen for at least another ten years. Derek already has his hands full with his writing projects. They occupied almost fifty hours of his week in a good week. It was closer to sixty when he felt pressure from deadlines.

  The writing was plenty to keep Derek busy, and then Undercover, the bookstore, fell into his lap. He didn’t see any other options but to take over and run it as Uncle Don expected. Uncle Don said it would be perfect to have the bookstore run by a local published author.

  Derek had two assistants to run the front desk, but he still ended up with at least fifteen hours a week having to keep tabs on the store himself. He was considering cutting back on assistant hours even more, because the bookstore’s income wasn’t supporting the salaries.

  Distracted by the phone call, Derek stood up and walked to the rack holding magazines. It was the area of the bookstore that was constantly ending up in disarray. This day was no different. He began to sort the magazines back into their proper subject clusters while making sure they were situated correctly in their slots.

  Derek wondered how long paper magazines would remain popular. He supposed that they would as long as people continued to travel by plane. Perusing magazines was one of the best ways to pass the time while hurtling across the sky in a tin can.

  It was time to settle back into the writing. Derek turned to the laptop and started to write more about Houston Brant and the stranger in the long black overcoat. Houston Brant could meet Lyla later when he was recovering from his explosion injuries in the hospital.

  Once again the words just didn’t seem to flow. Derek decided to scrap the thriller writing for the night. He shut down the file and opened his romance instead. It was the story of two men who met in Bali. One was there for a much needed vacation after an ugly breakup, while the other was there for work. They were both completely over-worked and horribly stressed. Derek could relate. At first his characters simply enjoyed chatting with drinks in hand at a little bar set up near the beach.

  Derek could feel the words starting to flow. This was the kind of moment he loved most about being a writer. It was almost as if some hidden, mysterious hand took over and wrote the words on its own.

  Derek daydreamed about Bali and the two handsome men. One was a dark-haired dangerously gorgeous man who could probably make loads of heads turn, both male and female. However, one of the most charming parts of his personality was that he didn’t realize just how physically attractive he was.

  The other man was blonde, and he worked as a model for two years just out of college. Now he was setting up an online business, and he was scrambling to try and get it off the ground. He moved to Bali with a six-month lease on a home to try and get away from all the stresses of an American life.

  After meeting, the pair found each other instantly likable, but Derek was going to take them through a long, slow p
rocess before they ever figured out their sexual attraction and interest in a relationship. This novel was going to be a breeze to write, but the thriller was something else.

  Derek settled himself down to get the 5,000 words of romance finished so that he could get some sleep for a change and maybe even sleep in late in the morning.

  3

  Derek

  Just as he found himself completely engrossed in the romance featuring main characters named Brian and Joel, Derek heard a loud knock on the door. He lurched out of the headspace of his created world, stopped midway through a steamy kiss, and looked up worried that he might have an insistent shopper who wanted something after hours. In a small town, those men and women who traveled all the way downtown only to find out your shop was closed weren’t the people you should turn down. Treated in the proper fashion, they could easily become lifelong, dedicated customers.

  Derek was relieved to see Yale’s smiling face instead of that of a stranger. In fact, he knew instantly that he was more than relieved. He was happy. Any time that he got to spend with Yale was good time. Derek closed the laptop, strode to the door, and opened it. As Yale stepped inside, holding a white paper bag in one hand, Derek spread his arms wide for a hug.

  Yale’s strong, muscular frame felt good. As their cheeks pressed close together, Derek inhaled. Yale was freshly showered, and he smelled clean and just slightly soapy. Derek pulled him tighter. Yale wasn’t much taller than Derek, but he had a powerful, beefy frame even though he rarely worked out in a gym.

  It usually only took moments being enveloped by Yale’s powerful body to remind Derek of all the times Yale stood up for him in gym class. Yale held back from the rest of the class to jog alongside skinny Derek giving him encouragement and he helped give Derek an extra boost on the gymnastics equipment.

  Yale was a natural born protector, and Derek loved that about him. It wasn’t just about his brawn either. Yale was smarter than most people thought, and he could size up a situation quickly and efficiently. If there was a threat nearby, Yale was the man Derek wanted by his side.

  Pulling back from the hug, Yale said, “It’s Tuesday, remember? It’s time to leave the bookstore and go out and have a little fun. This is when you forget about all that work that you have to do. We can go down to the Blue Goose or maybe out to the docks and just stare out at the lake.”

  Derek stepped back and looked up into Yale’s friendly eyes. He said, “I’m sorry, Yale. I am really up to my ears in work to get done. I had to cover the bookstore for most of today, and that means I’m behind on both of my book projects. I have to get 5,000 words written tonight if it kills me. There’s just no putting it off anymore.”

  Yale nodded and said, “That’s okay. Maybe I can hang around here at the store for a little bit, though.”

  Derek said, “Don’t do that just because of me. I don’t want to take you away from doing something that’s more fun. You can go home and watch TV or see if Thomas or Aaron are up for some time away from home. Thomas has all of those little puppies running around.”

  Yale looked straight into his eyes and said,”Being with you is always a good thing, Derek. I really mean it.”

  A long moment of silence passed between them, and then Derek looked away and said, “Well, suit yourself then. There are some new books in that display over by the desk, and, of course, you are welcome to look at any of the magazines. I just don’t think a closed bookstore is necessarily the most exciting place in town.”

  Yale picked a music magazine off the shelf and began to sit in an over-stuffed chair. Then he realized he was still holding the white paper bag with Jess’ slices of pie inside. He dropped the magazine on the seat and stood up again, walking over to Derek. Leaning over Derek’s shoulder, he tried to catch some of the words being typed.

  Derek grumbled, “They aren’t having sex yet, if that’s what you’re looking for. It’s just an innocent, if slightly steamy, kiss.”

  Yale laughed and said, “No, I was just thinking if we’re not going out, you should still eat something. Have you had dinner yet?”

  Derek scratched his head still staring at the screen of the computer. “No, I haven’t had dinner. Going out takes too long.”

  “I’ll go check that little kitchen your uncle put together in the back. I think there are some cans and stuff back there.” Yale took his bag and headed for the rear of the bookstore.

  Derek called over his shoulder. “Seriously, Yale, some of those cans are probably over five years old. I’m not sure we…” Derek threw up his hands and sighed before turning his attention back to the computer.

  * * *

  The little kitchenette consisted of a tiny half-sized refrigerator, a microwave oven, and a single-burner hotplate. Yale rummaged through the cabinets above the sink. A small stack of cans in a corner of one cabinet contained mostly soup. He pulled out two cans of chicken noodle and found a small saucepan under the sink. Another of the cabinets contained plates and bowls. Silverware resided in a drawer to the right of the sink.

  At least the soup smelled like chicken noodle once it started to heat up. Yale pulled the slices of pie out of the white paper bag and did his best to arrange them neatly on plates. They were beaten up a bit after transportation in Yale’s truck and being carried all over the store.

  Yale did his best to heat the soup and then put together a reasonably attractive plate and bowl arrangement with the soup and the pie. He carried it out to Derek and asked, “Do you just want to eat there at your computer? You have to eat somewhere. You need something in your stomach, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Derek said, “Honestly, Yale, you sound a little like my grandma.” He looked up to see Yale frowning and added, “That’s not a bad thing. She was incredible. Just bring the food over here, and I’ll clear some space for you. This really is very sweet of you.”

  Yale returned to the back to get his own plate and bowl. He said, “Actually, you were starting to look a little pale to me, so I thought you needed something.”

  Derek poked at the pie. “Yumm…pecan. I love pecan pie.”

  “Soup first,” said Yale.

  They lifted spoonfuls of the soup simultaneously and tasted it. First Derek nearly spit it back into the bowl and then Yale cringed and scrunched up his face. Derek said, “That is foul. It tastes like sucking on a tin can with softened cardboard added in.”

  Yale swallowed and then frowned again. He said, “Yeah, I’m sorry. We can’t eat this.” He knew that he didn’t really have the money for it, but he offered, “Would you like me to just order a pizza?”

  Derek shook his head. “No, no, let’s just go for the pie. You said Jess made this?”

  Yale nodded yes and then pushed the bowl of foul liquid out of the way. He watched Derek take his first bite and smile. “Good stuff?” asked Yale.

  Derek grinned and said, “Very good stuff.”

  Yale watched as Derek quickly devoured his slice of the pie. In the same amount of time Yale took only three or four bites of his own saying, “I’m really glad you like it, and Jess said to tell you that she misses you stopping in at the diner. She specifically mentioned your handsome face.”

  Derek said, “Yeah, I probably should stop by there more often.” He started to reach his fork out and then said to Yale, “I really need one more bite of it. It’s sooo good. Could I have just one bite of yours, Yale?”

  “Do you want me to feed it to you, too?” asked Yale.

  Derek felt a slight twinge in his gut. He knew that he would enjoy Yale feeding it to him, but he kept his mouth shut about the thought. Instead he just laughed and said, “Only one bite, that’s all. I won’t steal the rest from you.”

  Yale said, “Go right ahead. If it will keep your strength up, it’s well worth sacrificing a bite.”

  After savoring the sweetness of his last bite of the pecan pie, Derek said, “Yeah, I know. I’ve not really been my normal self lately. It’s just this bookstore. Taking care of it while
keeping up with my writing is really rough. I wonder if I bit off more than I can chew.”

  “What’s wrong with the bookstore?” asked Yale.

  “What’s not wrong with it?” asked Derek. “There’s paint starting to peel on the walls. We still have this old ugly fluorescent lighting. Uncle Don took up so much space with these used and donated books. We need bright and shiny new stuff instead. And look at the furniture. It’s all really worn. I’m worried the store is just going to go under, Yale, and it will be my fault. My mother will never let me live it down.”

  Yale swallowed his last bite of pie and then stacked his plate on top of Derek’s. He said, “Why don’t you just hire someone to spruce up some of those things.”

  “It costs money, and it takes time to sort out exactly what needs to be done. I’m completely short of the time, and it doesn’t make sense to spend the money when I haven’t yet figured out exactly what I need to do.”

  Yale looked around and saw much of what Derek was talking about. He also saw a few other things that he might address if he were the one calling the shots. He asked, “Well, if it’s so hard to take care of, why don’t you consider selling the store? Or shutting it down and renting out this space? We’re right downtown. I’m sure a fudge shop or T-Shirt store would be happy to move in here.”

  Derek shook his head. “I can’t do that. It would be a huge letdown to my family. They already question what I’m doing writing books. This looks like more of a safe career to my mom. No, I can’t just let the store go under. I have to do something. Bradshaws are successes, not failures.”

  Yale silently wished he could make that kind of comment about himself. He felt like he had tasted failure far too many times.

  “This has been all about me. How was your day, Yale?”

  “It was kind of the same ole same ole.” He shrugged. “I worked for Jess earlier in the day, and then I did some work for Mrs. Benton.”