Billionaires Dollar Series

I run a hand across my jaw again. Her eyes are blazing, a challenge in them, and something that runs deeper. Embarrassment? Hurt?

“I should have told you who I was when I was here last week,” I say.

“So you came to apologize?”

My grin is back, and I take a few steps back toward the front door. “Consider me accepting the two-month bet my apology,” I say.

“Accepted. But I’ll still remember, Cole.”

“Good,” I say, my hand on the front door. “As long as you remember what I told you last week. I would have called, Skye, if you had left me your number. And you would have picked up.”

“See? We could put these up around the neighborhood. The noticeboard by the grocery store, inside cafés, by bus stops…” I hold up one of the flyers I made for Karli to see.

“When did you make these?”

“Last night. I went to the copy shop this morning.” I put it down, two cups of coffee and determination making my skin itch with excitement. “You know the author we featured last week? She’s a Seattle native. Maybe we could organize a book reading and signing with her?”

Karli is laughing. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Yes. Well, a bit.” I’d stayed up late, doing everything from brainstorming ideas to watching videos on YouTube by prominent businessmen. The latter hadn’t helped at all-I wasn’t planning on building a multi-billion-dollar empire here-but it had definitely given me motivation. Never give up, never surrender. My plans of finishing my manuscript before the year is out have all been scrapped. Between the Pages is more important.

“The posters are fantastic.”

“And the mic night?”

“And the mic night.” She nods. Karli reaches across and puts a hand on mine. “Skye, what came over you in the meeting yesterday?”

I meet her earnest gaze with one of my own. “I honestly don’t know. I was so angry, and so… well. I couldn’t let it go down without a fight. I still can’t. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“Embarrassed me? Skye, we were sinking, and you bartered your way to a lifeline.”

“We can’t just let him win, you know.”

“Him?”

“Yeah, the titan of industry. Cole Porter. Big business. Corporate greed. Them.”

Karli shakes her head at me. “You’re starting to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but I like it. Give me a stack of these posters and I’ll hang some up during lunch?”

I grin. “This is just the beginning. I have so many ideas, Karli… This isn’t the end of Between the Pages.”

Her smile is excited, all signs of tiredness or resignation gone for the first time in weeks. “You know what? Even if it is, we gave it our all. Nana would have wanted nothing less.”

I spend the rest of the day immersed in the store. I look at every shelf like it’s the first time I’ve seen them. I stand outside for nearly thirty minutes and analyze our window displays, until Karli tells me to come back inside because I’m scaring away actual customers.

The bookstore can’t fail. It can’t. I walk through the second story, with the dark wood bookcases and the ratty old armchair in the corner, seeing it all like I’m twelve again. For years, this had been my safe place. My refuge from the world, from school and home.

I run my hand along the spiral staircase up to the attic. We never go up there, and the staircase is purely decorative now. A small sign hangs on it, the lettering artistic and flowing. The staircase to book heaven. Unfortunately off-limits (at the moment).

I’d put the sign there when I was fifteen, and Karli’s grandmother Eleanor never took it down. This store has a place in the community. In the city. There is magic living between these dusty walls. It’s a store that holds a thousand stories, a thousand characters, a thousand places just waiting to be explored. We just need to get the magic across more effectively.

And if I have anything to say on the matter, we will. Between the Pages will continue spreading its magic to tons of little girls and boys who need it.

“And you’re okay with me leaving early?”

“Yes, of course I am.”

“You’re sure, sure?”

Karli laughs. “Yes! John is coming by soon anyway, and he’ll keep me company before closing. Besides, it’s not like you’re going home and lying on the couch.”

I lift the stack of posters high. “No, not exactly. I’m going to plaster the city with these. Between the Pages will be everywhere. Not a single Seattleite will be missed.”© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

Her eyes soften. “I’m really happy to have you. I know you could do so much more than work here, with me… but I appreciate it.”

The lump in my throat is sudden, and I have to swallow around it. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. You know that.”

“Even so. Thank you.”

I walk up the street, as familiar to me as my own hand. There’s a notice board by the old bakery, now turned into a laundromat. Janice is seated outside with her little dog at her side. Yes!

“Hi there,” I say, putting up my poster.

She squints at it. “What are you doing there?”

“Protesting the new development.”

She gives a croaky laugh. “No good can come of that.”

“Oh, it might! If enough customers come to the store in the coming two months, we might be able to stay.”

“Yes.” I beam at her. “We’re inviting everyone in the area to pop in, as often as possible. We’re organizing a book reading, too.”

“Really,” she says again, softer this time. “Well, I’ll have to swing by then.”

“We’d be happy to have you.”

I say bye to Ms. Janice and her little dog with a smile. She talks to everyone in this neighborhood-anyone at all who will listen. She’s better than any noticeboard I could find.

I turn up Aven Street and continue on my poster quest. I ask cafés for permission to put them up. For the first time in weeks, there’s purpose in what I do. Save the bookshop. It runs on a loop in my head, over and over and over again.

What had I said to Karli? Captain of industry. Big business. I use my phone to search the internet for Porter Development, but all I find is their generic website. I shake my head and try again. What properties does Porter Development own?

Jackpot. There’s the Reese Hotel, with the Legacy bar, but I keep scrolling. I don’t need to be reminded of the night I spent there.

Flitwick Apartments is another one-and it’s nearby. I glance down at my remaining stack of posters. Well, Cole Porter. Maybe it’s time to show just how determined we are to keep Between the Pages running.

The next day is calm. We get a few new customers-all of whom credit my poster-but other than that, business churns on as usual. That is to say, it’s practically nonexistent.