Page 73 of Beautiful Deceit
"Okay Sammy. Let's get going." He says, sounding slightly amused. He opens the door, and we both walk out.
"You don't have to walk me. I can get a cab, so you can stay here." He shakes his head before I even finish
"No, I don't want you going anywhere alone." I want to tell him not to worry and that he had enough to deal with, but I don’t.
I'm rushing him along, but he doesn't seem to mind the pace. When I round the corner, I see Jess looking down at her phone and then up in our direction. I wave and pick up my pace.
"I'm so sorry guys, I overslept," I say, sounding winded. “I will give you the spare key, Jess. If this happens again, you shouldn’t have to wait.” Jess's face is set in a huge grin, completely unbothered. She looks between Beau and me, lifting a brow.
"Oh, I bet. Long night?" She teases. I wish it was just what she assumes. I don't answer as I bend down and fit my key into the rolling gate. Beau bends to lift the gate as the lock clicks open. I unlock the door and rush in to disarm the alarm. Jess and Erin are behind me with Beau bringing up the rear.
I'm seven minutes late opening the door, something impossible only months ago. I'm grateful no customers were kept waiting. Beau follows me to my office where I start my computer to check if we have any deliveries scheduled for today or any online orders needing shipped. Was it just a few weeks ago that I'd know all this before even coming in Monday morning?
I have seven orders to compile. One is exceptionally large, asking for fourteen books. Most are classic, but there is an obscure title or two that I might have to order.
There's a shipment due around lunch, so I let Beau, who's been sitting quietly since I sat down, know.
"I need to be out on the floor. I have a few orders to get ready to ship."
He nods, "I was going to make a few calls. Is it okay if I stay in here for a bit?"
"Of course. You don't have to ask. Do you want a coffee or anything?"
"No, I'll be out in a bit. I'll get something then." He answers abruptly. I can sense he wants privacy for his calls, so I rush to print out the orders and call for a UPS pick up after three, then leave the office closing the door behind me.
When I approach Jess to order a coffee, she beams at me. I’m not nearly awake for what she has in mind to talk about.
"Oh my god. It's him, and you're you, and you’re together." She's more animated than I've ever seen her. It's pretty comical to see the typically chill woman get so flustered.
"Yup, he's him and I'm me, and I think we're kind of a we." I grin back, picking up on her excitement. I’ve always wanted to talk girl talk with her. I’m a bit giddy.
"What's he like? Did you really not know who he was? Is his body as hot in real life as it is in the movies?" She asks as one long, strung together sentence.
I laugh and tell her, "Slow down. I can't gush about him when he might walk out here. Besides, I have work to do missy." I mock scold, tipping her nose.
Her face falls and her shoulders slump, "Come on, you gotta give me something." She whines, stomping her feet behind the counter.
I look over my shoulder, making sure he's nowhere in sight, "I don't think I've even seen any of his movies, but if they showed anything close to the reality." I stop there and just fan my face dramatically, "Scorching!"
She sighs dreamily, "Wow. Chris Huntington dating my friend. Crazy."
I get serious for a second and say, "Please don't tell a bunch of people."
She waves a hand and steps over to the customer that just walked up.
"Hadn't crossed my mind." I smile watching her chat with her customer.
I grab the old wooden rolling cart and start collecting the orders. Mr. Brown was well stocked in first editions and antique books. The bulk of our online order requests are people looking to add an authentic book to their libraries or collections.
Nowadays, they make great reproductions that look just as good for a fraction of the price. We stock them as well and at market price, compared to overpriced copies found in big box book stores.
However, my online buyers specifically ask for the authentic collectables. Anything from the first editions of classics to early reprints ofNancy Drew. They are a small passionate group, and many are historians. As a bookstore owner, I love catering to them. So often my customers are limited to hipsters, flipping through the trending book section while they primarily are here to order coffee from our cart and charge their laptops.
I'm boxing up one of the small orders when Brian's massive frame fills the door. He has a large black leather duffle hanging from his shoulder. He scans the area, likely looking for Beau when his eyes land on me. He walks over to where I am stationed behind the check out desk.
"Samantha," he greets.
"Hey Brian. How's it going?"
