Desperate Measures(6)
Kiki smiled, humorlessly. She hated hearing about how beautiful she was all the time. “Beauty isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, believe me. Besides. You’re pretty.”
“Uh-huh,” said the girl, not sounding at all convinced. “Well, anyway, sorry if I said something to offend you. I’m a little nervous right now.” She went to grab the second door to open it and enter the retail floor area of the store.
“Nervous about your upcoming golf game? Or the murder of your ex?”
The girl laughed and then started whispering, “Neither. I’m going to a book club meeting. I’ve never been to one before. Are you a member?” She pulled open the second door and stepped through, standing in the entrance where it was usually as quiet as a library.
“No. I’m just here to buy a book,” said Kiki, whispering too.
“Oh. Okay. Well, nice meeting you ... sorry, I didn’t ask your name yet.”
“It’s Kiki.”
“Okay, well, nice meeting you, Kiki. My name’s Aimee, by the way. Love your boots.” She smiled big and then walked away, going to the front desk. Kiki went in the opposite direction, to the women’s fiction section. She couldn’t help but look back after a couple steps and smile at the girl who for some strange reason had brought a golf club into the bookstore to attend a romance lovers’ book club meeting.
Chapter 3
ELIZABETH WAS NERVOUS. SHE HATED carrying this kind of cash around with her, especially when it wasn’t her cash to lose. She hadn’t been able to think of anyplace safer than a bookstore to meet. It was second only to a church, but since she didn’t go to services regularly, she felt a little guilty about using its sanctuary to exchange used goods in an under-the-table type fashion.
Her eyes cast about the store, trying to guess the identity of the seller of the golf clubs. She’d positioned herself in the romance section so she could see the entrance easily. She watched as two people stood outside the front doors, talking. One of them was really tall and the other one short. She couldn’t tell if they were together or not, but they entered at the same time. One of them, the shorter one, was carrying a golf club. That has to be her. Elizabeth watched as the two women split up, one going to the front desk and the other coming straight in her direction.
Elizabeth didn’t want to be caught spying, so she grabbed a book off the shelf and acted liked she was interested in reading it. She paid no attention to the cover as she flipped the book over, ignoring the words on the back in favor of trying to get a peek at the girl headed her way.
She was tall and wearing those kind of sexy boots that went way, way up, leaving only a bit of thigh showing. The reason any of her leg was visible at all was because she had a micro-mini on; otherwise, if she’d been wearing a skirt like Elizabeth normally wore, there would have been no skin showing, the skirt hiding what little thigh might have been exposed. Elizabeth smoothed her hand down her pants self-consciously when she saw how high this other girl’s skirt was riding. The woman looked like a hooker in that outfit. The hot pink skin-tight top and short leather jacket completed the ensemble perfectly. Elizabeth wondered what a prostitute was doing in the bookstore. Is this the newest place to pick up men? Why is she coming into the romance section? To get pointers?
The prostitute stopped at the bookshelf right next to Elizabeth and began scanning the shelves. Elizabeth stepped over a bit to give her room to browse. She felt stuck. This woman was standing right there where Elizabeth had pulled the book from, making it impossible for her to put it back without having to ask her to move.
Crap. I need to get out of here. Elizabeth was becoming more anxious by the second. She needed to get over to the girl with the golf club in her hand, before she ended up in the book club meeting with it, forcing Elizabeth to make explanations she’d rather not. She looked at the cover of the book she was holding in her hand to figure out where to put it back, since the books in this section were alphabetized by author last name. She nearly choked when she realized she’d pulled an erotic romance off the shelf, whose title and cover left very little to the imagination.
Elizabeth’s conscience wouldn’t allow her to just shove the book back anywhere. She hated it when people did that, since it made it so hard for someone else to find later. Plus it made extra work for the employees, which wasn’t right. She took a deep breath and said, “Excuse me,” reaching over to put the book back in its place.