Scratching Her Vinyl (Billionaire Auctions in Bloom)

by Jamie Knight

  Scratching Her Vinyl

  Billionaire Auctions in Bloom Book 8

  Copyright © 2020 Jamie Knight Romance.

  Jamie Knight

  Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author

  All rights reserved.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - Juliette

  Chapter 2 - Juliette

  Chapter 3 - Dominic

  Chapter 4 - Juliette

  Chapter 5 - Juliette

  Chapter 6 - Dominic

  Chapter 7 - Juliette

  Chapter 8 - Dominic

  Chapter 9 - Juliette

  Chapter 10 - Dominic

  Chapter 11 - Juliette

  Chapter 12 - Dominic

  Chapter 13 - Dominic

  Chapter 14 - Juliette

  Chapter 15 - Dominic

  Chapter 16 - Juliette

  Chapter 17 - Dominic

  Chapter 18 - Juliette

  Chapter 19 - Juliette

  Chapter 20 - Juliette

  Chapter 21 - Dominic

  Epilogue - Juliette

  Sneak Peek of Buying Her Flower

  Other Books in this Series

  Newsletter Signup and Free Book

  Chapter 1 - Juliette

  I heave a sigh and look around at the dead store. Music is playing in the background, soft, so as not to overwhelm my customers.

  What customers? I ask myself bitterly. It’s been empty all day.

  I reach up and fix the scarf that holds back my dark waves, hoping that my worries aren’t etched on my face. Especially when I actually see someone pause outside the store. I put on a friendly smile and almost try to will them to come inside. After a quick glance in the window, however, they shake their head and walk off. Another sigh escapes me, this time one of defeat.

  I settle onto the stool behind the counter, propping my elbows up on the surface and cupping my chin in my hands.

  How did things get this bad? I wonder to myself.

  I think back over the years of owning this record shop. My brother Florian and I had opened this place together. We bought it together, and it had been our pride and joy. We’d taken this little place and made it shine. But now I’m beginning to wonder if I should still keep trying. I’ve done my best, every single day, to keep this place alive, but no matter what I do, things just get worse and worse.

  This whole little strip mall seems to be dying off, and most of the other businesses that used to be here have either shut down or moved away.

  No matter what gimmicks I’ve tried to implement, or sales I try to have, I just can't get business anymore. The decline started a year and half ago, right around the time Florian died.

  My chest aches and I gaze out the window, remembering what it was like before, when the two of us ran things together. Business was good back then because he left such a vivid impression on people.

  No one could draw in the customers like he could. Shoot, the whole strip mall saw a lot more action back then. It's not that we chose a bad location or anything, it's just a sign of the times, I suppose.

  I look out all the open expanse of the shop and the grief threatens to swallow me whole. God, I miss him. My brother just had this amazing, magnetic personality. I can almost see him walking around talking and smiling with the customers.

  He seemed to draw in people of all ages. He was so patient with the elderly customers, listening with genuine interest to their stories as they browsed the vinyl trying to retain some shred of their rebellious youth. And even the younger crowd, the ones who rolled their eyes at our old-fashioned wares, he roped in.

  He could find something for anyone, sometimes just by looking at them. It was his superpower.

  Even though we’re in the digital age of everything, under his care, the business seemed to flourish. Maybe it was because we both had such bright personalities and worked well together. We both had this crazy energy and had so much fun together. Running the shop wasn’t work, it was just what we loved.

  But Florian was in the wrong place at the wrong time, just one time. And the drunk driver who took his life and turned mine upside down will be getting out of jail in another year or so.

  It’s almost like some part of me died with my brother. That bubbly, happy version of me is nowhere to be found, and I feel like that life is draining out of the shop, too.

  I still love this record shop because it's a part of us, and I'll fight my hardest to keep it going, but I feel like I can only do so much. I sigh and push myself away from the counter. I need to focus and get through this day so I can get home.

  Ugh, home.

  Although the thought of relaxing was tempting, I knew that wasn’t exactly what was waiting for me there. Ever since I started having problems with the business, I seemed to be buried under a never ending pile of bills. There just never seemed to be enough money to pay for everything. I had a stack at home that was getting dangerously close to past due.

  So I know I won’t be able to relax, I know I'll end up spending my evening trying to figure out how to handle them once again. Not that I really have anything better to do, anyway.

  I have no friends. I can’t think of the last time I actually had a date. I have no social life, so the only thing I really can do is go home and worry about the store. The heavy, miserable feelings weigh on my chest, and I wonder how much longer I can hold up to the crushing grief.

  Feeling the need for something, anything to alleviate some of the ache, I rise to my feet and walk over to a stack of albums I keep nearby. I play these to entertain customers whenever they show up, or just to break the silence in here. I flip through the stack, searching for one in particular. When I find what I’m looking for, I carefully slide it from the cover and swap it out with the record on the player. I listen to familiar popping sound of the vinyl before the music starts.

  A smile lights up my face. Immediately, some of the weight lifts away and I feel a little better as the music brings up older, happier memories. The record was one that my grandmother used to play, and this song in particular was one of her favorites. For just a moment, I actually manage to forget about all of my worries. I just lose myself in the music and stare out the window.

  I'm not even aware of what time it is, or how long I’ve been standing here. I just want to enjoy this song. I promise myself I'll make time to deal with everything later, but I’m grateful to have a moment just to breathe. Actually, it's the only thing that has brought me even the slightest semblance of peace since I got the phone call that changed my whole world.

  Maybe because listening to it was a shared pastime of ours. Hell, it was more than a past time, music was the core of who we both were. So sometimes it makes me feel better, but sometimes it hurts, too. I just have to kind of take it a day at a time, I guess.

  It feels like the song ends too quickly, so I start it over again and spend a few minutes staring absently at the familiar cover art of the album. I smile once more as I remember looking at this same image a million times over the years in my grandmother’s house.

  It’s small, but the nostalgia and positive memories manage light a little spark of hope in my chest. There’s always a way. I just have to find it.

  Chapter 2 - Juliette

  The next day I'm trying to keep my promise, at home seated at my kitchen table. Bills and papers are spread out across the table in front of me in mountains of organized chaos. I'm scribbling down some numbers in a notebook and checking my work on the calculator next to it.

  After a few minut
es I sigh and throw my pen down in frustration, rubbing my temples. I need to step away from this for a few minutes or my head’s going to explode. I get up from the table and walk over to the sink, pouring myself a glass of water and taking a massive gulp. The cold liquid does a little to settle my stomach, even if it does nothing for my nerves. I’m trying so hard not to let this stress get to me, but it doesn't seem to be working.

  After going over everything, there was no denying it: I was going to be short on the rent for the shop for next month. No matter how many times I redid the numbers and tried to budget, the money to pay it just wasn't there.

  I take another gulp water and force myself to take some deep, calming breaths before I start having a full-fledged panic attack.

  Once I feel a little calmer, emotions under control, I can think more clearly. I start to try and brainstorm ideas on how to raise money quickly, but the more I think about it, what I really need to do is stall for more time until I can get the money.

  That means I’m going to have to call the owner of the building and talk to him. I know what I have to do, but that doesn’t make it any easier to do. I take another drink, wishing briefly that there was a little “liquid courage” instead of just water, and put my glass in the sink.

  "It’s now or never." I tell myself aloud.

  I settle myself back down at the table and pick up my cell phone, scrolling for the landlord’s number in my contacts list. It doesn’t take me long to find, and after a deep breath to steel myself, I press the little phone icon and lift the phone to my ear.

  I try to hold onto that calm I’ve collected as I wait for him to answer the phone. Our family has known the old man for a long time. He was a good friend of my grandfather. Hopefully if it comes down to it, I can play on his sympathies and nostalgia and convince him to give me just a little more time to come up with the money. I hate to do it, I’ve never had to stoop to something this low, but I don’t know what else I can do.

  Finally he picks up the phone. "Hello?" He answers, sounding a little annoyed.

  I wince. Not off to a great start, but I try not to let that discourage me from my plan. "Hi, Mr. Stevens,” I say sweetly, “It's Juliette. Albert’s granddaughter, with the record store?"

  "Oh, yes, yes,” his tone softens and I feel that spark of hope return, “What can I do for you?"

  "Well,” I hedge, “The reason I'm calling is I was just going over the budget for the shop. Sales haven't been going that well and I've been having some trouble financially. I'm barely able to afford all the bills. I was wondering if maybe you could give me a little extension this month, until I'm able to get the money to pay you the rent?"

  The words fall out in a tumble, and I’m a little relieved once they’re out in the open, but anticipation is heavy in my gut as I wait for his answer.

  He is silent for a long moment, and while I’m hoping for the best, hoping he’s just mulling it over, I know every silent second that ticks by is a bad sign. "Well, Juliette,” he says finally, “I’m sorry, I wish I could just say yes to you, but I don't know if I will be able to do that. You see I’ve had a very generous offer recently from someone who’s interested in buying the whole strip, and I can’t promise you what their rent agreement is gonna look like.”

  My heart sinks, but I listen patiently as he goes on: “I really am sorry. I would very much like to help you, but I'm old and ready to retire. I’d been thinking about selling for a while now anyways…."

  “It’s all right, Mr. Stevens,” I say softly, “I understand.”

  "You know, maybe the new owners can help you and give you your extension. You're a nice person. Would you like their information?" He asks.

  "Oh yes! Any help I can get is wonderful." I reply gratefully.

  I don’t exactly have high hopes, anyone shelling out the money for a rental property like this probably isn’t going to be thrilled to immediately get a request like this. But I grab a pen and start writing it down on one of the dozens of pieces of scratch paper in front of me. He reads off a number that sounds vaguely familiar and an address

  "The lady's name is Courtney. She’s been so sweet, I’m sure she’ll understand and help you out,” he tells me cheerfully even as my heart sinks with dread.

  "Ok, Mr. Stevens. Thank you so much," I say as I hang up.

  I study the information he gave me. "Courtney…" I mumble to myself, “It just had to be her.”

  I know this woman. My old high school bully. I go to the kitchen table and look through all the papers. I find the morning newspaper and open it. There's a big article about Courtney and what a successful woman she has become. She's a ruthless real estate developer. That’s why her number seemed so familiar, it’s got a lot of threes and it’s plastered all over at least a dozen billboards throughout town.

  Apparently she has been “revitalizing” sections of the town by demolishing older buildings and replacing them with expensive shopping centers. Those places are all the same. So boring, and over-priced in my opinion. I put the paper down and on a whim, I run back to the phone and tap a few buttons on the screen. "Hello?" Mr. Stevens asks again.

  "Hi, Mr. Stevens, it’s Juliette, sorry to bother you again. There’s something I forgot to ask you. If it's not too much trouble could you tell me how much the offer made was and how long before the sale is final?" I hold my breath as I wait.

  I'm not expecting him to answer, he doesn’t owe me any explanation, but to my surprise he does. "The sale will be final at the end of the month, unless someone comes up with a better offer before then,” he explains, and when he gives me the number, my heart sinks all over again.

  The end of the month is only two weeks away. I’m not even going to be able to scrounge up rent in that time, what the hell made me think I might be able to out-bid Courtney and buy out the strip? "Oh, ok. Thank you again, Mr. Stevens. " I reply, trying and failing to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

  "I really am sorry, Juliette," He apologizes once more as we hang up.

  I screw my eyes shut for a moment, taking a deep breath before I get up and start cleaning up the table. I put every paper back where it belongs. I’ve got one last option left in my pocket, but it’s not going to be easy. The last thing I can think to do is attempt to go to the bank and take out a loan.

  It’s a slim chance, but it’s all I’ve got left.

  After I've cleaned up, I gather all the business papers I’m going to need and put them neatly in my purse. I go to fund a suitable outfit to wear. I'm desperately trying to distract myself because I’m a bundle of nerves and I feel like I'm going to break. I can't lose this business, but I don't know what to do.

  I wish Florian was here, or my grandparents were still around, then I wouldn't be in this mess. I shouldn’t be doing this alone. My eyes burn and I blink quickly to stop the tears threatening to well up.

  I need to get ahold of myself, I can’t turn into a blubbering mess at the bank when I’m going down there to try and project an image of a mature professional. But it’s hard when I feel so small and scared.

  Chapter 3 - Dominic

  My arms crossed across my chest, I pace quickly back and forth in my office. My annoyance grows with each step, and it takes conscious effort not to grind my teeth. I hate waiting, especially for other people.

  I stop pacing and glance at my watch. I sigh in frustration and throw my arm up. "That idiot was supposed to call 7 minutes ago," I complain to myself.

  At least I don't have anything important to do. Yet. I would be more frustrated if I was late for a meeting or something. But my time is valuable, and I don’t enjoy having it wasted.

  I stop pacing and start thinking of what I could be doing instead of wasting my time here waiting. An early lunch would have been one option. I could get a jump start on that pile of paperwork waiting for me at home…

  Suddenly the phone rings, interrupting my thoughts, but to my annoyance, it’s my personal cell and not the work line. I snatch it off my desk
and answer it. "Hello?" I snap angrily at the person calling.

  "Dom?" Kevin asks in surprise from the other end of the line.

  I had forgotten I was expecting a call from him, too. My best friend.

  He recovers his composure quickly and starts to laugh. "Geez, I can tell from your tone it's been a while since you got laid," He quips.

  I roll my eyes at him, even though he can't see. Truthfully, I hadn't really thought about it. Lately I’ve been consumed with work. We have so much going on with the company that I don't have time to think about anything else, which is good for business I suppose. "Longer than I care to admit." I reply with a sigh.

  Kevin is my best friend, so I can confide anything to him

  "Well, today is your lucky day. I called to let you know that the club is planning to host another auction," He says excitedly.

  I hold the phone with my shoulder and walk behind the desk. I start looking over my files. "Hmm," I sigh in response.

  I think about the last time I was at one of these auctions, a few months back. I didn't particularly enjoy myself, and I don’t recall having a spectacular time at the one before that, either. I haven't had a good run of luck lately at these things. For some reason they aren't holding my interest anymore.

  Maybe I need more of a challenge, although that isn’t my usual style. I’m normally perfectly happy to keep things simple. I pay, my needs get satisfied, end of story. No hassle, no hang-ups. I don’t have time for messy entanglements.

  So why am I bored with it?

  "Well, that’s not the reaction I was expecting," Kevin says finally.

  "Sorry, man, I don’t mean to shit all over your parade, it's just that I'm starting to wonder of it's worth it to even go to those anymore. It's always the same old story and we never meet anyone interesting," I sigh, sharing my opinions with him.

  "Well, I suppose you're right. " he admits after a second.

  I hear him sigh as he tries to figure something out. I feel a little guilty for being such a damper on his excitement. "Ok,” he says finally, ”How about we go, just to check things out? If it looks too boring, we’ll duck out and we can just hang out and have drinks. At least we can get out and enjoy the night, you know?" He suggests.