Succubus Blues (Georgina Kincaid #1)(5)

 

 

"Liar. You're never sick."

"Doug, I was already planning on coming back tonight for the signing. If I work a shift today too, I'll be there all day. That's sick and twisted."

"Welcome to my world, babe. We have no alternative, not if you really care about the fate of the store, not if you truly care about our customers and their happiness..."

"You're losing me, cowboy."

"So," he continued, "the question is, are you going to come here willingly, or do I have to walk over there and drag you out of bed myself? Frankly, I wouldn't mind the latter."

I did a mental eye roll, chiding myself for the billionth time about living two blocks from work. His rambling about the bookstore's suffering had been effective, as he'd known it would. I operated under the mistaken belief that the place couldn't survive without me.

"Well, rather than risk any more of your attempts at witty, sexual banter, I suppose I'll have to come over there. But Doug..." My voice turned hard.

"Yeah?"

"Don't put me on the registers or anything."

I heard hesitation on his end.

"Doug? I'm serious. Not the main registers. I don't want to be around a lot of customers."

"All right," he said at last. "Not the main registers."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

A half hour later, I stepped outside my door to walk the two blocks to the bookstore. Long clouds hung low, darkening the sky, and a faint chill touched the air, forcing some of my fellow pedestrians to don a coat. I had opted for none, finding my khaki slacks and brown chenille sweater more than sufficient. The clothing, just like the lip gloss and eyeliner I'd carefully applied this morning, were real; I had not shape-shifted into them. I enjoyed the routine nature of applying cosmetics and matching articles of clothing, though Hugh would have claimed I was just being weird again.

Emerald City Books & Café was a sprawling establishment, occupying almost a full block in Seattle's Queen Anne neighborhood. It sat two stories high, with the cafe portion dominating a second-floor corner viewing the Space Needle. A cheerful green awning hung over the main door, protecting those customers waiting for the store to open. I walked around them and entered through a side door, using my staff key.

Doug assaulted me before I'd taken two steps inside. "It's about time. We..." He paused and did a double-take, reexamining me. "Wow. You look... really nice today. Did you do something different?"

Only a thirty-four-year-old virgin, I thought.

"You're just imagining things because you're so happy I'm here to fix your staffing problem. What am I doing? Stock?" 

"I, er, no." Doug struggled to snap out of his haze, still looking me up and down in a way I found disconcerting. His interest in dating me was no secret, nor was my continual rejection. "Come on, I'll show you."

"I told you-"

"It's not the main registers," he promised me.

What "it" turned out to be was the espresso counter in our upstairs cafe. Bookstore staff hardly ever subbed up here, but it wasn't unheard of.

Bruce, the cafe manager, popped up from where he'd been kneeling behind the counter. I often thought Doug and Bruce could be twins in a mixed-race, alternate-reality sort of way. Both had long, scraggly ponytails, and both wore a good deal of flannel in tribute to the grunge era neither had fully recovered from. They differed mainly in their coloring. Doug was Japanese-American, black-haired with flawless skin; Bruce was Mr. Aryan Nation, all blond hair and blue eyes.

"Hey Doug, Georgina," heralded Bruce. His eyes widened at me. "Whoa, you look great today."

"Doug! This is just as bad. I told you I didn't want any customers."

"You told me not the main registers. You didn't say anything about this one."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Bruce interrupted. "Come on, Georgina, I had Alex call in sick today, and Cindy actually quit." Seeing my stony expression, he quickly added, "Our registers are almost identical to yours. It'll be easy."

"Besides"-Doug raised his voice to a fair imitation of our manager's-" 'assistant managers are supposed to be able to fill in for anybody around here.' "

"Yeah, but the cafe-"

"-is still part of the store. Look, I've got to go open. Bruce'll show you what you need to know. Don't worry, it'll be fine." He hastily darted off before I could refuse again.

"Coward!" I yelled after him.

"It really won't be that bad," Bruce reiterated, not understanding my dismay. "You just take the money, and I'll make the espresso. Let's practice on you. You want a white chocolate mocha?"