‘Lucy making advances do you mean?’
My mouth resembles a puffer fish, as I work hard to bring it in line. ‘What? No, just in general. A man could also make a move on me, you know. I’ve been a party to seduction before …’What!Oh God, when I get nervous I revert to historical-romance speak. Blame the editorial life.
‘I don’t doubt that, Evie. I’m sure you’ve got men falling at your feet. Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound otherwise. It’s just we were discussing the possibility of Lucy visiting so Ipresumedthat’s what you were alluding to. Silly of me.’
‘Right.’ Men falling at my feet – hah! Even book boyfriends play hard to get, the monsters. The atmosphere changes. I should have kept my mouth shut. Why would I try and define this, whatever it is, SINCE IT’S FAKE. Do I want to make my life harder? What if the poor fool falls in mad, chaotic love with me? I mean, there’s a small chance. Some men find hot messes alluring.
‘Shall I email her and ask if she’ll help out at the launch?’
How deftly he deflects my actual question. Interesting. Methinks the man does not want to broach even the idea of being tied down, not for a moment.
Bloody Lucy. I recall her author photo. Another lusty woman with come-hither eyes and a body that would probably suit the bottomless bikinis that beachgoers favour here. ‘Yes, if we can get her here, it would be quite the coup.’ My tone is stiff but I can’t help it. It’s almost like a rejection, him not bothering to answer my question about defining ‘us’. The brush-off feels real somehow, and I can’t understand why it stings. ‘Email her, I guess.’
Next he’s going to tell me she owes him a favour. A favour she’ll probably want to repay tangled between the sheets. Romance authors, you cannot trust them one bit.
‘She owes me a favour.’
I can’t hold in an eye-roll. I bet she does! I fold my arms defensively. ‘So …?’
‘So she’ll probably say yes.’
‘A word of warning. Romance authors are always on the hunt for …experiences, of a sexual nature, shall we say? You know, for their …’ I make air quotes ‘…“writing”. Just be on guard. Having a grip on the English language is one thing but acting out scenes for their next book –One Night in Santorini with My Hot Editor– is quite another.’
His face scrunches in such a way, I don’t know if he’s about to laugh or scream. Eventually he composes himself after a battle with expressing whatever emotion had him in its grip. ‘Noted. I’ll be very careful. I don’t want to be a party to that. Not ever.’
Poor naïve fool. Just how many of his authors have already taken advantage of him in the name of research?
I sigh. ‘Send the email then.’
Chapter 17
The next day, Roxy breezes in, her skin pink from the sun. ‘Why the long face?’ She props herself on the stool near the counter. Pee Wee sidles up for some love, which is duly handed out in the form of a neck scratch.
‘Ooh, where to start. Georgios is inviting Lucy Strike to the launch …’
‘LUCY STRIKE!’
‘I gather you’ve heard of her?’
‘Have I heard of her? Whoa, she’s a BookTok sensation. Everyone wants a piece of her. It’d be quite a feat if she says yes.’ Her eyes shine with excitement. Gollyeveryoneloves Lucy. ‘Is it confirmed? Because if so, I can get a lot of exposure for Epeolatry if she’s the guest speaker.’
‘Not confirmed yet. But Georgios seems to think he has enough sway to convince her. He edited her latest novel.’
‘This is amazing!’ Roxy goes behind the counter and hunts around for a notebook and pen. ‘Why are there never any pens?’
‘Pen lady takes them.’
‘Pen lady?’
‘Yes, yet another weird and wonderful character. She visits a few times a week and asks for rare books that I presume she knows we don’t have. Still, I humour her, and pretend to search for whatever tome she’s after. While I’m hunting high and low she fills up her pockets with mints and pens. I mean, it’s not ideal but I figure maybe she needs the sugar hit.’
‘But why the pens?’
‘I don’t know. Gran says it’s better than her stealing the books so we turn a blind eye.’ Even my cleverly disguisedWar and Peacebook box has been raided. Pen lady sure is fast.
‘The life of a bookseller: never a dull moment. OK, so no pens.’ Roxy takes her phone from her pocket and types up some notes. ‘Can you let me know as soon as Lucy has confirmed and I’ll get onto my contacts to spread the word. With her name attached I can aim for some bigger publications and mainstream radio stations.’
‘Sure, sure. She’ll probably be a massive diva about it and we won’t hear back until the very last minute.’ My phone pings with a message, which I duly ignore.
