by TC Rybicki
“You could be exciting, Dane.”
“I’m too busy making money.”
“Your family has plenty of money.”
“Shh, stop that filthy talk, Cora. You’re a lady. There’s no such thing as having too much money.”
I could tell she tired of our banter. “I’ll be in the back opening up a shipment if you need a refill. Better yet, help yourself. You know your way around. Perhaps, I should put you on the payroll since you’re so money hungry.”
I quipped, “You can’t afford me.”
“Now that’s an understatement. Oh well, on second thought holler if anything comes up. There’s a new customer in the back. I tried to help her earlier, but the prissy thing said she’d rather browse alone. If she comes to the counter intending to buy, I don’t want you scaring her away.”
I often had the shop to myself and had no clue someone else was here. My curiosity got the best of me when Cora disappeared behind the back wall. Her past career shined through. The bookstore resembled a school library more than a traditional store. The building was long and housed several rows of tall shelves. Come to think of it, the Leaks most likely didn’t make huge profits with this establishment. I would venture a guess the coffee brought in more than the books, but they stayed afloat somehow. They got a cozy crowd in the afternoons and early evenings. During the school term, George offered free tutoring sessions to caffeine-addicted groups of teenagers. The Card Catalog Cafe was known to locals only; most of the tourists skipped it. Visitors preferred the river for obvious reasons. I had to wonder what new person wandered in here.
The first three rows proved empty. Maybe Miss Priss slipped away unnoticed when I ran to the restroom. Other than those brief minutes, I’d been near the door for at least twenty minutes and saw no one enter or exit. I didn’t know why I tried to be stealth, but I slowly angled my head around row four. New customer indeed. I had no idea what to expect when Cora referred to her as prissy, but what I saw was far from what I imagined. I soaked up the view from the rear, faded jeans- not department store brand either. Fancy pants came to mind. A wide-necked pink shirt with ruffles that couldn’t decide to hang left or right held my attention. Each time she reached for a book, the top slipped the other way. Definitely, an out-of-towner. Women here didn’t wear pink like that or ruffles. Her hair was at least four shades of blonde and light brown, not a run-of-the-mill home dye job and it was twisted, partially braided, and pulled up in a unique fashion. She had purposely left pieces of wavy tendrils down to tease me. I meant men in general, not just me. Cora was right. I needed a date. Bad. I had no idea what her face looked like, but I knew her type, and she was pretty. No doubt about it. I’d been away with school and travel for several years and had my share of women in all walks of life especially those with agendas. This chick knew how to work her assets.
Time to walk away instead of acting like some small-town creeper, but this stranger retained my gaze. She thumbed through every book in the poetry section like she was on a mission. Next thing I realized, her eyes moved upward to the ceiling. Her arms outstretched, intent on reaching for something. She fell short because of her average height which was five-foot-five by my best guess. I was just shy of the six-foot mark, but if I felt cocky, I could easily convince others I was past it. A gentleman might walk up and offer assistance, but I’d already been observing the goods a full five minutes without her knowledge. I left my manners back up front in my favorite chair.
Backside beauty stretched again and heaved out a noise of frustration that tickled my neck just under my earlobe until it journeyed south and settled exactly at the spot that should not be tickled in a public place. She never once considered calling for help. Instead, she grabbed onto Cora’s antique ladder at the end of the row and began to set it up.
No way was I taking leave now. I had to see what she intended to do next. What the hell was with Cora? That wooden ladder looked ancient. Surely, she didn’t climb her retired-self up that thing. I was a fit 26-year-old man that spent a portion of my free time wrangling horses, and I wouldn’t chance that death trap.
Miss Priss gave no fucks. She wanted a book at the top of the shelf, and she went for it. I needed to talk her out of it, but I stood in awe instead. If reaching the top shelf was her mission that meant she’d have to stand on the last rung. This was going to be bad and I was going to let it happen. Who knew I was such a jerk?
She steadied herself with each step, even as the ladder started to wobble. Each time she moved, it swayed, but she steadied herself on the bookcase. By God, her method was working. I had no doubt now she’d make it to the top. Amazed and consumed by unexplained lust, I watched on. She arrived at the very top of a ladder constructed circa 1947 to reach her destiny. The victory ended abruptly when she stretched up that final bit, and gravity took over. I snapped out of my stupor and acted without hesitation. Her screams penetrated my eardrum as soon as I secured her in my arms.
I expected her to be a little shaken, but at least somewhat appreciative. I saved her ass. It was a fine ass at that. She fought me instead. I was unsteady after catching a falling damsel. Only currently, I was the one in distress.
More shrieks and flailing limbs.
“Put me down! Let go of me. Maniac. Help!”
Cora came running, bad hip and all. “What on earth, Dane? Are you okay?”
“Is he okay? He mauled me in your bookstore. Does this pervert work for you?”
She kicked her legs violently again waking me up to the fact I had her in a secure fireman’s grip. I considered dropping her because of the attitude, but I saved her for a reason, so I gingerly placed her back on the floor. George entered the store about that time and joined us.
His eyes glued to the ladder. “Cora, I told you we can’t leave that out. It’s a liability.”
“I love it, dear. It’s vintage. It makes the store feel like a real library. Everyone knows it’s part of the decor, not for climbing.”
I sarcastically voiced, “tell her that.”
My rescued maiden faced me head on for the first time with balled fists on each hip.
I swallowed hard, visibly, and audibly. I was wrong. She wasn’t pretty. That adjective didn’t do her justice. Holy hell. This woman in expensive clothes, one size too large was ethereal. She reeked beauty from every pore. Her skin radiated a golden summer tan and summer had barely started. Her eyes blinked long lashes around a cinnamon-coated center laced with honey highlights all the way around. She had a cute button nose that pointed me straight to the middle of her perfectly heart-shaped face. Dark brows furrowed from embarrassment, anger, and fear. She knew she made a mistake and tried to blame it on me, a total stranger. Once she spoke, she was forced to release those pouty pink lips she sucked in between her teeth. I knew for certain at that moment I’d been wrecked for life. It wasn’t even ten in the morning and my body sagged from the exhaustion of saving her and losing my good sense just to soak in her existence. One flaw surfaced after I took a deep breath. She was young. Too young. Legal. Maybe? The sheer possibility of the maybe should send me fast in the other direction, but I stayed just to hear her speak for the first time without yelling.
“Are you okay, hun? I never dreamed someone would climb the ladder. It’s an antique and only for decoration.”
“I’m fine. That man startled me.”
“That’s a bold face lie. You didn’t even know I was behind you.”
She rolled her eyes and scowled at me like it was the first time in her life someone called her a liar. Both George and Cora looked at me like I needed psychiatric help because of the ‘behind you’ comment. I did. For the first time in my life, I felt crazed.
“Can I help you? I mean. My husband can go get the service ladder and get whatever book you were after.”
“No… no thanks. I’ll have to come back; I’ve been gone too long. You have an amazing collection of poetry. I’ll return when I’m not in a rush.” She mumbled after that. “If that ever happens
again.”
She went from feisty and ungrateful to pitiful and insecure. I felt like she was polite to the Leaks and rude to me for no reason. I caught her. She’d be on the floor with something broken if it wasn’t for me.
“You’re welcome.”
She stopped from trying to leave and faced me. “Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘you’re welcome.’ You know, for making sure you stay in one piece.” What a piece it was.
“Whatever you say. I had it. Someone should inform you it’s rude to sneak up on people.” After that, unknown woman of my wildest fantasy scurried out the front door. I never got my thank you.
“That was odd.”
“Definitely.” George grabbed the ladder and started to the back. I couldn’t help myself. I pressed my face against the glass storefront. My eyes deceived me. That fancy out-of-towner drove off in old rusted out 1972 Dodge D series pickup truck. That made zero sense to me.
“Interesting.”
I turned to catch Cora watching alongside me.
“What’s interesting? A girl like her driving that truck? I thought so too.”
“No, it’s just, that’s Josephine Littlefield’s work truck.”
The name hung heavy between us. Cora and I had a few fiery discussions concerning her friend. That name came across my desk at least ten times a day.
“Why’s she driving that old heap around? She a new employee?”
Cora stepped away and started wiping invisible dust off the counter.
Her refusal to answer meant something was up.
“Cora Lee. Who was that? Don’t hold out on me.”
“No one. Now hush up, I’m your elder. Let me get you a fresh cup since your first one went stale while you played knight in shining armor for a minute.”
She poured out my coffee and sat a new cup in front of me.
I wasn’t giving up so easily, “You know something.”
“Let it go, Dane. Josie is one of my oldest and dearest friends and I’m not giving you any ammunition to swindle her out of her land.”
“I don’t swindle.”
“Your daddy does, and that’s the honest truth, hand to God.”
“I just want to know what that girl has to do with Mrs. Littlefield. I saved her. I’m curious. That’s all.”
Cora reached under the counter and produced a leather-bound copy of the Holy Bible.
“Hand.”
“You have got to be kidding me?”
“No, I don’t kid with the Bible. Swear it. You will not use this information against my friend.”
I felt like I was in open court, but with one hand on Cora’s Bible and one in the air, I swore it. “I won’t bother Josie. Who is she?”
“Josie told me her granddaughter, Sydney was coming to live with her, permanently.”
She had more to say, but I didn’t have time to listen. I ran full speed back to aisle four. I stepped one foot on the shelf and lifted myself up until I secured my purchase, a first edition book by Yeats.
I plopped the fragile book of poetry on the counter hard enough the scent of history, old paper and dust permeated my senses.
“Nope. No way. You promised. You took an oath before God. You’re a good man, Dane Ellsworth. You told me last week you hated the lies people spread and the looks you get because everyday folks don’t trust you. Leave that poor girl alone. She’s just a kid and has been through so much.”
“What’s that supposed to mean and are you serious? She’s underage?” I already knew I’d broken a few moral codes considering the thoughts I had earlier but was I breaking the law? “It’s a book. She risked her life for it. You have my word. I’m not out to hurt anyone. I just want to welcome her to town with a gift.”
“That’s a three-hundred-dollar book I found at an auction.”
“You’re teasing.”
“No, three twenty-five if you want the exact total, plus tax and I refuse to sell it to you because I know what you’re about to do. I see it in your eyes.”
“Is she over eighteen or not?”
“Barely. She is still eighteen if I remember correctly.”
That’s all I needed to hear. I deposited five one hundred-dollar bills on the counter. “Keep the change, Cora, and trust me, it’s not about my father’s land deal. I’m keeping this just between us and that girl. Sydney, right?”
“Dane don’t.”
“I can’t stop. I have to.”
George came out and saw our interchange. “Oh, my. That’s more than we took in all week in book sales.”
“Thanks, George. Your wife says this book isn’t for sale and I offered to pay extra.”
He answered for her. “Sold to the real estate mogul in the khaki pants.”
“No!”
He lowered his voice. “Cora, we can’t keep sinking our retirement funds in this place. Sales aren’t only nice, they’re absolutely necessary.”
She held the book back from me, but George clinched the money in his hands and made her let go. I promised again. I wasn’t about to do something sinister. I honestly had no idea what I was considering, but I needed to introduce myself properly. Sydney was too young and being a Littlefield made her even more off limits, but nothing could stop me. I wouldn’t tell my dad. That was the truth. I knew the exact way she’d travel home, and I counted on my truck catching up to her even though I’d wasted time arguing with Cora.
Cora raised her voice, “Don’t let me down.”
I waved as I fled the bookstore. “I won’t,” hoping that was the truth for all our sakes.
I screwed up the entire morning. My phone was on the charger somewhere in my room. I’d been gone over two hours. The bookstore wasn’t on my list. I caught a glimpse accidentally after one wrong turn while searching for the feed store. The pharmacy wasn’t open for fifteen more minutes when I got to town, so I thought I could spare the time. I would never have imagined a tiny shop in a small town would have such unique works and first editions. I wanted to see every book even if I only skimmed the pages a few minutes without buying anything. It wasn’t like I even had the funds to make a purchase. I had only the allotted money for the items on Gram’s list.
I rushed the last few errands. Gram’s bag from the pharmacy rested in the middle of the bench seat. Now I wondered why in the world she needed a full bag of medicine? She looked at least ten years younger than her true age, and her energy level rivaled most people in their thirties. Gram wasn’t sick. Was she? No way, this had to be something preventative. I would flat out ask her later. She was a straight shooter. The feed store was a whole new experience. I wish I’d paid attention in Spanish class. I could have sworn those men that loaded the truck said something perverted about my ass or it might have been the slang for boobs. I shuddered at the memory. I hated creepers.
Thinking of creeps landed me right back in the arms of the grabby bookstore scoundrel. He copped a feel. I was positive. The way the owner fussed over him when I was the victim proved she was snowed by his dreamy Prince Charming facade. Good looks didn’t mean he wasn’t shady. Bundy looked good to plenty of women. I knew the ladder was about to throw me. Six years of cheer prepared me for the landing. I had it. I would’ve been fine. Now I was stuck with the memory of how that spying man smelled. I briefly rested against his chest and whatever manly musk he coated himself with after a hot shower was potent and unforgettable.
A truck approached from the opposite direction. Oh, this guy had issues. Talk about overkill. This rancher had decked his GMC out with every extra grill, row bar and light kit that existed. He was speeding too. I felt the rush of wind as we passed. Seriously, that one had insecurities. Over-compensation much?
I checked my mirror at the sound of screeching tires. He turned around in the middle of the road. Well, when he figured out where he was headed, he could go around. No way could Rusty go the speeds this jerk-off needed to drive to feel manly. There wasn’t a passing zone, and he had soon caught up with me. Like literally, he was r
iding up my ass. I brake checked him.
“Go around, moron. No one is coming.” He didn’t pass. He kept following far too close. If I didn’t know better, I swear he wanted my attention. The sun reflected off his front windshield. I can see the driver clearly and only see one person. The second brake check forced him to back off a little, but the truck made a strange noise. Rusty sputtered then lurched before completely quitting on me. I tapped the gas to the floor then hit the brakes. I’d never died driving fifty, but maybe if I stopped completely, I could start it back up. This old truck only needed to carry me five miles more tops. My luck couldn’t be that dire. I had to have something go my way for a change.
The truck barely had enough power to make it off the road. In fact, I was sure my tail end was hanging out on the road a bit when I came to a complete stop. That’s when I looked in my mirror. The crazy truck guy stopped too. The situation reminded me of a bad scary movie plot, but what if this was the plan all the while? Psycho planned to run me off the road, but Rusty crapped out before he had to take it that far. The GMC behind me didn’t look like the ride of a serial killer, but having money meant he could afford a torture chamber or maybe one of those kinky sex rooms. The situation escalated quickly when khaki pants extended from an open door. The sun wasn’t a factor where I stalled. I could see him plain as day. It was Dane- catcher, feeler, grabber from the bookstore. What in the hell? Since when did I ever remember someone’s name so easily in passing?
This damn truck didn’t have automatic locks. I froze. Dane tapped the window, and I faced him with my head furiously shaking. He tapped again looking confused to what I might be saying no to. I had no idea either. No, you can’t kill me. No, I won’t get out to give you a chance. No, I won’t smell you again. Hell no, I won’t look into those eyes of yours again. Once was enough. I’d never seen anything like that. He had two uniquely different blue eyes. They weren’t two different colors, but the left one had a color variation at the top I found mesmerizing.