Heartsville 01 - Bookmarked (Piper Vaughn) (3 page)

Aaron looked up from his notebook with an expectant expression. “Mark?”

“Um. How about we plan for fifty on Saturday and maybe forty on Sunday and Friday?” Maybe those numbers were wishful thinking, but anything lower seemed like dooming himself.

Aaron nodded. “Okay. So we can do regular coffee, decaf, hot water for tea, and then a few bottled options. For pastries, I’ll talk to the people at Sweets on Sixteenth. The sandwiches we’ll make here. Maybe a few trays of pinwheels and mini-subs.”

“Sounds great.”

“I’ll work it out and get you an estimate in a few hours.” Aaron closed his notebook and shoved it back into his apron. “You’ll be at the store tonight?”

“Yep. I’m considering setting up a cot in the back, actually.”

Aaron laughed as he stood. “I hear ya. Talk soon, okay? Enjoy the rest of that scone.”

“Oh, I will.”

 

****

 

When he walked into Bookmarked ten minutes later, his father was ringing someone up at the register. A high-school biology teacher by day, Bruno only helped out on nights and weekends or whenever school was out of session. He was wonderful with the customers, and he worked for free, which Mark desperately appreciated, though guilt always followed the gratitude. He wished the store was earning enough to pay Bruno for his time. It was only fair, but his father never complained and would probably refuse the money anyway.

“Let me know if you like that first book,” Bruno said. “I have plenty of titles I can recommend if you enjoy it.”

“Thank you.” Smiling, the lady accepted the bag from him.

Once she was gone, Mark gave Bruno a hopeful look. “Big sale?”

His father stepped around the counter and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Only two books, I’m afraid, but maybe she’ll come back. She’s dipping her toes into urban fantasy, and we have a plentiful selection.” Mark was to blame for that. “I even sold her one of Shepherd Knight’s. That should please you. Maybe you’ll have another fan to rave with when the new book comes out next month.”

“I’m sure she’ll be hooked.” Mark faked a smile. He still hadn’t told his father about the Shepherd Knight debacle, though he’d subjected Adam to every excruciating detail. Of course Bruno would promote Mark’s favorite author to a new customer. He supported everything Mark loved. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bruno pulled him into a bear hug, pressing Mark to his burly chest. “We’ll find a way. You won’t lose the store, Markell.” With one last pat to his back, Bruno set him away.

Mark smiled at his father. A real one this time. At a glance, no one would know they were related. Bruno’s broad, husky body was a direct contrast to Mark’s lean runner’s build. His father looked like a buffed-up Santa Claus: fair, bearded, and rosy cheeked. Mark had inherited his mother’s darker Mediterranean coloring and had never been able to manage any facial hair beyond scruff and a regrettable goatee during his college years. Yet, despite their physical differences, Mark had never met a father and son closer than the two of them. It had been them against the world for too long to be any other way.

“Is anyone else here?” Mark asked, taking a quick look around. He didn’t see anybody browsing the stacks nearby or in the mismatched chairs in the lounge area.

“There’s a boy in the comic section. That blond one who always wears those anime T-shirts.”

Mark’s mouth twisted. He knew exactly who his father meant. The sulky teenager who never bought anything and couldn’t seem to remember how to use a recycling bin, no matter how many times Mark reminded him. Sure, Mark could be a bit… zealous when it came to the subject, but seriously, how hard was it? The bins were
right next
to each other.

“And Mandy came in a few minutes ago,” Bruno added, distracting Mark from his inner tirade before he could gain any real steam. “She’s upstairs.”

“Okay. I’ll go say hi in a bit.” Coincidentally enough, Mandy was Aaron’s sister. She was in the shop so often everyone knew her by name. It didn’t hurt she was a bombshell rockabilly blonde whose retro fashion sense set her apart from their other regulars. Mark liked her immensely, but if he went up to chat, he’d be caught in an hour-long book discussion. Maybe later, once he’d gotten a few items checked off his to-do list.

“Are you leaving soon?” Mark glanced at his watch. Almost noon. His father had been there since nine thirty to help him open shop. Angela, the part-timer, would be in from two to close.

Bruno shook his head. “I’ll stay until Angie gets here. If you need to take care of any business, feel free.”

“Thanks. I have a few orders to place. Yell if you need me.”

Mark left his father to reorganize his section of the “employee recommendation” shelf and went back to his office. Dropping into his desk chair, he puffed out a breath.

He had orders to place and a stack of invoices he couldn’t ignore, but first, e-mails. Mark was still waiting to hear back from a couple of feelers he’d sent out about the signing. So far he’d booked a contemporary-romance author from Chicago, a queer-speculative-fiction writer from Wisconsin, and Lily St. Bridge, local master of the cozy mystery. No huge names, but they all had loyal, if small, followings. They would draw in customers, though whether it would be enough to make a difference to Bookmarked’s bottom line remained to be seen.

Mark pulled up his e-mail program. Sighing, he deleted the due-date reminder from his business credit card. Then he noticed the sender’s name on the next message and froze.

Shepherd Knight.

Mark’s stomach squirmed, and he swallowed thickly. The e-mail’s subject line gave nothing away: it was simply a reply to the message he’d sent Shepherd a few weeks back. No clue as to the contents.

He hesitated, tentatively stroking his index finger over the computer mouse’s left button. Mark couldn’t cope with another dose of Shepherd’s scorn, not right now… but he couldn’t
not
read the message either.

Sucking in a slow breath, he opened the e-mail.

 

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
 
Mark,
First, I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you when you called me last week. I really did act like a dick, and I hope you’ll accept my apology. If the invitation still stands, I’ll come in to sign on the 3rd. And if you planned on doing any door raffles, I have a few items I could contribute to the pot.
Let me know. Again, I’m sorry. All I can say is, I’m not proud of the way I behaved.
Shep

 

Mark reread the message a second time before it registered he was gaping at the monitor.
Ho-ly shit.
The very last thing he’d expected from Shepherd Knight was an apology, let alone an agreement to actually do the signing. His first official signing
ever
. Shepherd had avoided conventions, pictures, and every other type of face-to-face public interaction since the inception of
The Drake Chronicles
and its subsequent skyrocket to popularity. This was a coup in the book world, one Mark couldn’t quite believe even with the evidence staring him in the face.

Am I dreaming? Have I fallen into a parallel universe?

Mark pinched himself, hard, and hissed at the flare of pain.

Nope. Definitely awake.

Which meant this was real. Which meant….

“Holy shit!”

He was going to have Shepherd Knight making a public appearance in Bookmarked. Shepherd, the international best-selling author. The readers would come from all over. Mark knew it deep down to his bones. And if he could find something to keep momentum going after the signing, he might just be able to save his store. He needed to brainstorm and come up with a few more ideas. Now that Shepherd had mentioned a door raffle, it seemed blindingly obvious. Mark could ask the other authors to contribute prizes and raise money for future events and possibly a donation to a literacy charity.

For the first time in ages, Mark felt like the light at the end of the tunnel might be a beacon instead of an oncoming freight train.

Grinning, he hit Reply. He could forgive Shepherd’s rudeness if it meant saving Bookmarked. Whatever the man’s reasoning, Mark wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip by. This was a rescue mission, and he needed all the backup he could get.

 

Four

 

 

Mark thought he was prepared to see Shepherd on the morning of the signing. A year was a long time… and yet, in the grand scheme of life, it was nothing at all. When Shepherd’s dark gaze caught his, Mark’s belly flip-flopped, and he felt the familiar, electric thrum of attraction. Shepherd appeared as grim as ever, his mouth bracketed by white lines of tension. Brittany, Shepherd’s PR rep/personal assistant, was short, blonde, and wore enough pink to make Elle Woods jealous. She didn’t look anything like what Mark had envisioned from their terse communications over the last couple of weeks. He’d expected a barracuda and instead got an angelfish, but the steely glint in her eyes said she was not to be messed with.

Between her, Mark, and Shepherd, they’d come up with a plan to keep things orderly. There would be a three-hour signing from morning to early afternoon. One hundred wristbands would be distributed for that, first come, first served. Then they would repeat the process from six to nine.

Compass, Shepherd’s publisher, had offered up early copies of the next book in the series, which wasn’t set to release for another three weeks. Customers could either buy the new hardcover or bring in an older book from home. Those would be marked with an invisible stamp—detectable only by the black light LED flashlight Mark had bought—to differentiate them from the in-store stock. But Mark had high hopes most people would purchase the new book. How could they resist? It wasn’t often readers had the opportunity to get their hands on an advanced copy, let alone a signed one.

Mark stepped forward to shake Brittany’s hand. “Hi. Mark Werner.”

“Britt Cohen. Cute place you’ve got here. I like the purple.”

“Thanks.” Purple had been Mark’s favorite color since Penny Babinski loaned him a berry-scented marker in preschool. When he opened the shop, he’d had the front painted violet and the lettering done in gold. He liked to think the combination gave it a royal appearance, but failing that, it was at least hard to miss.

“How did the signing go last night?” Brittany asked. “You had Lily St. Bridge here, correct?”

Mark stole a look at Shepherd, who had yet to speak. He flushed when Shepherd caught him peeking. Flustered, he turned to the door to make sure it was locked. He didn’t want anyone trying to sneak in the back. Bookmarked wasn’t scheduled to open for another forty-five minutes, but a growing line had already formed outside. At least a dozen people had been there when Mark showed up at eight. He had no idea how long they’d been waiting before he arrived. “Um, yeah. It was great. We had a good turnout. More than I expected. She did a reading and then signed for a few hours.”

“Well, as we discussed, no readings for Shep. And so you’re aware, if anyone tries to monopolize him for more than a few minutes, I’ll be stepping in. We want to keep things moving.”

“Sounds fair.”

Brittany nodded brusquely. “You said you’d have additional workers helping today?”

“Yes. My friend Adam will be here taking pictures, but he can help with crowd control, and he’s familiar with our registers. There’ll also be an employee from the café popping in to keep the refreshment table stocked.” Mark had adjusted the order with Aaron once he had a better idea of how many people they might need to feed. It would be a far cry from the meager fifty Mark had originally anticipated. Or rather, hoped for. At the time, he’d feared he might even be overestimating.

“Very good. Is there somewhere we can put our things? We have the basket for the raffle as well.”

“Of course. Right this way.”

Mark led them to his cramped office. Brittany deposited her bags on the desk, then pulled out her smartphone. While she typed furiously on the small screen, Mark turned to Shepherd and held out a hand. “We’ve never officially met. I’m Mark. Thank you again, Mr. Knight, for agreeing to the signing.”

Shepherd clasped his hand with a clammy fist. “Shep, please. And it’s no problem.”

“Shep.” Mark studied him, noting the sheen of sweat on Shepherd’s brow. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

Shepherd cleared his throat. “Uh… fine. I’m fine.”

Brittany looked up from her phone. “That’s right! He’s perfect. We’re going to have a great day, aren’t we?”

Shepherd’s expression betrayed his doubt, but after a second, he nodded.

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