The Great Catsby

by B K Baxter

  I heard her chunky heels start to pound against the wooden floor outside her office and held back a sigh. Luanne approached the circulation desk, blasting poor old Dottie with a glare that made the busybody’s grin evaporate. Without even saying goodbye, Dottie fled the library, on to greener pastures like the beauty salon or the fabric store where she could gossip without interruption.

  “We’re out of two-sided tape.”

  I blinked at Luanne’s announcement. “I’m sorry. Shall I…” I’d never been tasked with providing supplies before. Luanne was in charge of ordering, and so far, I wasn’t allowed near the single credit card the library was allowed for its purchases.

  “I need the tape if I’m going to finish labeling the new acquisitions.”

  I nodded when I realized she wasn’t going to say anything else. Luanne was a woman of few words, most of them resembling snarls. When the silence stretched between us, I finally recognized that she was waiting for me to speak. But I knew nothing of our two-sided tape suppliers. “How can I help?”

  “You can go find some darn tape.” She slapped down the credit card. “Bring back the receipt, and no funny business with the card.”

  Her heels punished the floor as she walked away. I picked up the card, amazed at this new level of trust between us. A few steps out the green doors and I was on Main Street, feeling like I was drowning in the late afternoon humidity. It was only spring, but it felt like the depths of late summer in Baltimore or worse. I hurried down the block, wanting to return to air conditioning as quickly as possible.

  I’d only been in New Orleans for a few weeks, so I still wasn’t entirely familiar with the offerings of the retail establishments located near the library. One place I’d been a handful of times already was the Tip Top Grocery, only a few blocks away. I opened the door and walked inside, letting out a breath of relief as the cold air hit me.

  It only took about ten minutes to investigate all the shelves, and there was no sign of two-sided tape. There was a limited selection of transparent tape and duct tape, but I knew if I returned from my mission with anything other than what Luanne had ordered, I wouldn’t be doing myself any favors.

  I made my way to the small checkout stand, one of only two in the store, and waved to the owner. I’d met Sally on my first day in New Orleans when I’d come seeking sustenance. The drive down to Louisiana had put me off food that came in a bag or a Styrofoam container, so I’d come to the Tip Top Grocery to grab something green and fresh.

  Sally Tennyson was in her late forties, with carrot-red hair that showed just the tiniest hint of white at the temples. Round glasses with an almost invisible frame sat on her button nose, which was also decorated by a smattering of freckles that spread from her nose to her rosy cheeks. A friendly woman, Sally had told me she got her meat and produce fresh from local producers, a point of pride. I figured if she had any two-sided tape lying around, she’d be willing to spare some for New Orleans’s newest arrival.

  “Hey there, Jade,” she said, her southern drawl serving to make her sound even more friendly. “Something I can help you find today?”

  “Yes, there is. I’m hoping you have some two-sided tape.”

  Her smile remained as she shook her head. “I sure am sorry, but I don’t carry that sort of tape. I do have a couple other kinds though. Maybe they will work?” She started to come out from her station but I held up my hand, stopping her.

  “It’s not for me. It’s for the library, and I think Luanne has her heart set on the two-sided kind.”

  “Oh.” Sally nodded in agreement. “If that woman has a heart, I’m sure you’re right.”

  I let out a laugh. “Unfortunately, the technology at the library only detects barcodes, not anatomy, so we’ll never know for certain.”

  Sally chuckled at my lame librarian joke, and I liked her even more than I already had. “You might try the drug store. Mercer’s got a collection of odds and ends in there.”

  I thanked her for the suggestion. At a noise from the back of the store, my head turned, and I saw a young man in a blue apron carrying a crate of fruit toward the produce section. He had close-cropped light brown hair with matching brown eyes and appeared to be a couple years younger than me.

  I watched as he set the crates down, then carefully scooped up a spider that was tucked in among the apples in the top crate. He carried the long-legged creature outside and set it gently on the ground. I was struck by the gesture.

  If I found a bug at home, I set Chonks on it. Sometimes, the lazy cat would stop sleeping enough to take the creepy crawly out. Either that or I would avoid the room where the insect was discovered for as long as I could.

  Sally noticed the young man as he came back through the door and called him over. “Stanley, I’d like you to meet Jade Hastings, the new librarian.”

  His eyes lit up at the word librarian and he stuck his big hand out in front of him. I shook it, then added that I was the assistant librarian, lest he get delusions of my grandeur.

  “Stanley loves reading. Don’t you?” I noticed that Sally altered her tone, almost as if she were speaking to a child.

  “Is that right?” I asked, mostly just to say something.

  Stanley nodded but remained silent, an earnest grin on his face. I wondered if maybe he was differently abled, despite his clear-eyed understanding of our conversation.

  “Well, if that’s the case, you should stop by the library tonight at five. We’re holding the first meeting of New Orleans’s brand-new book club. Would you like to join us?”

  He nodded again, although this time with more restraint.

  “Go ahead and finish with the fruits,” Sally said.

  He did as she asked.

  Then Sally hooked her elbow through mine and started walking us toward the door. He’s very shy, you know?” she told me in a hushed tone as she led me out of the store. “But I’ll be there, and I’ll do my best to drag him along.”

  “Great,” I said, unsure if it actually would be. New Orleans’s response to its newest book club so far seemed to be indifference. But at least no one was hostile, except maybe the head librarian. “I look forward to seeing you later!”

  The drug store wasn’t far, and I covered the distance in as near of a sprint as I could, trying to avoid gathering a pool of sweat in the small of my back. For some reason, that always made me feel slightly disgusted. My hygiene wasn’t what I would call pristine, but I did have my limits.

  A large green cross decorated the window next to a pair of eyes bigger than my head, advertising a brand of reading glasses. The eyes were so faded, I knew the glasses wouldn’t be able to help them see again. Mercer Drug flashed in neon cursive down the side of the building, another nod to an era long past.

  Inside, I wandered the aisles, taking some time to acquaint myself with the layout of items. As a librarian, I craved orderly shelves, but it appeared drug stores weren’t held to the same standard as libraries. Shampoos were stocked next to bug repellent. Antacids sat next to clearance flip-flops. My brain couldn’t process the logic of the store, and my hopes of finding the mythical tape of the two-sided variety were sinking.

  “Looking for something?”

  A handsome man in his late fifties or early sixties came around the corner, his smile warm. He was wearing a white coat embroidered with the name Patrick, and I assumed he was the pharmacist.

  “Two-sided tape. I’m the new assistant librarian, and we need it for our new acquisitions.”

  “Ah yes,” he said, nodding. “I heard there was someone new in town. You’re Mike Hasting’s niece.”

  “I am,” I said, quickly refocusing the conversation. It could be a little startling, having everyone already know your backstory. “About the tape? I’m afraid Luanne will be pretty disappointed if I don’t come back with some, and I already tried the Tip Top.”

  “I’ve got some. Hang on.” He disappeared, giving me time for another attempt at cataloging the assembled items for purchase. But
I just couldn’t see how putting the hairbrushes next to the batteries made any sense.

  “I’ve been waiting for Luanne to call me for a delivery but it looks like she has a new lackey,” he said with a smile, holding out two rolls of the tape I’d been hunting for.

  “Looks like you’re right,” I said, taking the tape and starting my journey toward the cash register. “I don’t mind the occasional errand as long as it’s air-conditioned.”

  Patrick laughed at my joke, and I started to wonder if I had a career in stand-up comedy. Maybe it was just that the people of New Orleans were starved for something to laugh at.

  Oh goodie, that’s me.

  Chapter 2

  The crowd was larger than I expected for the inaugural meeting of the New Orleans Book Club. They trickled in as I was closing the library. I’d set the club meeting for a day I knew Luanne would be going home early.

  To say the head librarian was resistant to change would be like saying the Mississippi River was a trickle of sweat between my shoulder blades. To give the club a chance, I thought it best to make sure Luanne wasn’t around when we kicked things off.

  We sat in a circle, the chairs stolen from nearby tables and arranged on the large rug that set off the children’s area. I scanned the group, realizing that I recognized only a few faces. Taking a deep breath, I pushed past my nerves and began.

  “Welcome, everyone, to the first meeting of the New Orleans Book Club. We’ll be reading classics of literature and discussing them each week in an open and inclusive environment. Before we get started, we should go around the room and introduce ourselves. I’ll start.”

  My gaze made its way around the circle, stopping to make eye contact with each person before moving on. “My name is Jade Hastings, and I recently moved to New Orleans from Baltimore. I might be new in town, but some of you might have known my uncle, Michael Hastings.”

  There were a couple nods when I mentioned my uncle but mostly blank looks. I wondered what Uncle Mike was doing down here if it wasn’t making friends.

  “I’ve always loved to read,” I continued, “and I’m excited to meet like-minded neighbors.”

  I nodded to the woman on my left, who grinned and introduced herself. “I think most everyone here knows me already, but my name is Dr. Charlotte Rains. Most people call me Char.” She looked around the circle a little defiantly. “I’m an avid reader, and I’m looking forward to re-reading some good books.”

  Char was a few years older than me, definitely young for a doctor, but friendlier than most of her kind that I’d interacted with. Her hair was a dark auburn, cut in a bob around her face, and her light brown eyes were kind.

  After the doctor came Dottie, someone everyone in the room was definitely already acquainted with. Dottie greeted the rest of the folks assembled, then took over half the introduction of the woman sitting next to her.

  “Everyone knows Alma,” she said, putting her gloved hand on the woman’s arm. “She’s the mayor’s wife, of course.”

  Alma nodded, her eyes bright and her fingers tapping against her knees. Her blonde hair was streaked with gray and slowly tumbling out of the loose bun resting on her neck. “Yes, Mayor Travis is my husband, has been for the past twenty-five years. I helped run his campaign, you might remember. We’ve always been big supporters of the library, and…”

  I nodded, waiting for the woman to run out of steam. I was just about to step in, as rude as it seemed, when the young woman sitting on her right interrupted for me.

  “We know, Miss Alma, and everyone thinks your husband is doin’ a bang-up job, but if we wanna do any talkin’ about the book tonight, maybe we should get past the saying hello phase?”

  Alma touched her forehead and tittered nervously while Tabby, as the young woman called herself, launched into her own introduction. “Y’all already know me, so I’ll keep it brief. Name’s Tabby, and I didn’t do much reading in school because I had better things to do, but Vince figures it’s time for me to get a little so-called refinement, so I’m here.”

  She was beautiful in a cubic-zirconium-in-the-rough sort of way, with platinum-blonde hair that fell in waves that hit her tanned shoulders. Tabby was statuesque, well built, and had a natural confidence that was evidenced in every move of her toned body.

  Tabby shrugged at the silence that greeted her, then looked to the woman to her right, who just happened to be one of the familiar faces.

  “I’m Sally,” she said with a little wave. “Me and Stanley are over from the Tip Top.”

  Stanley, the only male face in the crowd, nodded along. He was dressed in the same outfit as earlier, minus the apron, and I noticed the T-shirt he was wearing featured the cartoon Tasmanian devil and his trademark sloppy grin.

  Tabby let out a chuckle. “You got Taz to come to the library?”

  Sally’s grin shrank. “Stanley likes the library. He spends a fair amount of time here, unlike you.”

  Tabby held up her hands in surrender. “That’s the truth.”

  A well-put-together older brunette interrupted, and I was relieved for the help. I was beginning to realize that keeping this group focused might be a challenge.

  “My name is Dinah Mercer. I’m President of the Society for Historical Preservation here in New Orleans and a real estate agent. This book club is a wonderful way to bring the community together in such a noble pursuit.”

  Tabby yawned. It was loud and visual and earned half an eye roll from Dinah.

  We’d finally made our way around the circle, and the final introduction belonged to an attractive dark-haired woman with copper skin who seemed to have no problem following Tabby’s disruption. “I’m Mercy Means. You’ve probably noticed my jewelry on display at the New Orleans Bazaar.”

  Mercy held up an arm to display an intricate bracelet, then put her palms underneath her dangly earrings. Heads turned when Tabby started making a gagging sound.

  Mercy’s chin lifted as her eyes narrowed, and she let out a sniff.

  “That’s enough,” Dinah hissed at Tabby. “This isn’t how you behave in polite company.”

  Tabby gave her a look, crossing her arms over already-crossed legs and letting her flip-flop dangle off her foot. It was clear she was disinterested in the opinions of those gathered around her.

  “Okay,” I said at last, “it’s nice to meet all of you.” Bending down to grab the book I’d placed under my chair, I held it up for the club members. “So how far did you get in our first selection, The Great Gatsby?”

  I’d advertised the first book on the flyers and online announcements of the club, but I hadn’t expected many to actual crack it open prior to the initial meeting. It seemed I had predicted correctly because my question remained suspended in the quiet air.

  Finally, Char raised her hand. “I only made it through the first chapter, but I read it back in high school, so I remember the main points.”

  A couple mumbles from around the circle let her know that Char wasn’t the only one who’d made it through the high school’s required reading list.

  “Don’t you just love the cover?” Dottie crooned. “She reminds me of myself, coming out as a debutante years ago. I’d insisted on red lipstick, even though Mama said ladies didn’t wear that shade. It caused a minor scandal.” She let out a high twitter of laughter.

  I held on to my smile, just barely, and nodded at the older woman. “Yes, the cover has been talked about for decades, its symbolism discussed at length. Its image, taken from Dr. T.J. Eckleburg’s billboard in the book, ties into some of the major themes of the book. Does anyone want to mention any of the book’s themes?”

  I was beginning to think that no one would speak, but then Stanley raised his hand, and it trembled gently as it hung in the air. I nodded to encourage him, and after a moment, he began to speak, haltingly at first.

  “The main theme is the American Dream or its fallacy. Gatsby’s journey from a nobody to the man everyone wants to be is all built on lies. Everyone in the boo
k traffics in lies, either lies they tell others or lies they tell themselves. It’s a book that juxtaposes the haves and have-nots, the glitter and the ash, those who empathize with others and those who have sympathy for only themselves. It is both the belief in hope and in the necessity for that hope to end.”

  Amazed silence greeted his words, and I got the impression that no one here had heard him speak this way, including Sally.

  “You should talk more often, Taz,” Tabby said, leaning over to put a hand on his leg. Stanley blushed, shying away from her touch.

  I was surprised by the tone of Mercy’s voice and the vitriol I heard lurking in it. “Leave that boy alone,” the dark-haired woman said. “Don’t you already have enough guys dangling on your string?”

  Tabby shot the dark-haired woman an evil look. “You’re just jealous that your husband likes me better than he ever liked you.”

  A few gasps hit the air and my fingers tightened on the book I was holding.

  “Ex-husband,” Mercy snarled, standing up suddenly. “Why are you even here, Tabby? We all know you can’t read.”

  Tabby laughed. “I can read better than you can screw, which I hear needs improvement. I told you I’m here to get a little culture. And honestly, I thought something as boring as this would at least have wine to get butts in the seats.”

  “Okay, I think this is a good place to pause,” I said, rising from my seat and pasting on a smile for the benefit of the folks in the circle. “We can reconvene next week. Please try and finish the first three chapters by then.”

  I’d expected folks to make a quick exit, considering the tension in the room, but I’d misjudged the audience. The women milled around, talking in small groups and shooting glances at Mercy and Tabby, who were now giving each other a wide berth. Sally tapped my shoulder and I turned, relieved that at least one person in attendance still wanted to talk to me after the preceding debacle.

  “Thank you for starting this group, Miss Jade,” she said, her hands coming around me suddenly until I was enfolded in a hug. “I haven’t heard Stanley speak this much in ages.”