The Other P-Word(24)

       
           



       

"You make a good point."

Mom's buddy Arty was working the circulation desk. He ran around and embraced me.

"Billie girl, so nice to see you."

"Always a pleasure, Arty."

"You just missed your mother."

"Really?"

"She brought the triplets in for story time. Damien came at the end and did a reading."

"What did he read?"

"Bob the Builder, I think."

No surprise there.

"What's going on?" I asked, gesturing to the signs and velvet rope cordoning off a room.

"You don't know? Damien built a new children's wing for us. We'll be cutting the rope tonight."

"That's great."

Arty adjusted his glasses, peering at Evan. "So who is this ruffian you've brought me?"

"Arty, this is my friend, Evan Wright. He needs a library card."

"I think I remember you," Arty said. "You played football and ignored the quiet signs."

Evan gulped. "That's some memory you got."

"I hope you've learned to be quieter."

"Yes sir, I have." Evan shuffled nervously, a strange gesture for him.

"Well, let's get you fixed up then."

"I think this might be an issue," Evan said, handing Arty his license and a piece of mail.

"You have a permanent address. That's all you need."

Arty tapped on the keyboard. Evan drummed his fingers against the  polished wood of the desk. I sniffed the air. We were all in our  element.

"Cross your fingers," Evan said, his mouth hovering above my ear.

"Or you could just say A Prayer for Owen Meany," Arty said. Apparently, his hearing was as good as his memory.

"Huh?" I asked in confusion.

"It's way overdue, along with many other books including The Godfather … perhaps the greatest piece of literature ever written."

Wow, who knew Arty felt so strongly about mafia books. Arty made a tsking sound, shaking his finger at Evan.

"You're such a bad boy," I muttered.

"Told you," Evan replied.

Evan flashed a charming smile at Arty. "What are the damages, sir?"

Arty, perhaps because he appreciated a dramatic gesture, wrote an amount  on a notecard, folded it neatly then slid it over to Evan.

"Did you at least read the books, dear boy?"

"I never got the chance."

"Such a shame."

"That's why I'm here. I'm asking for a second chance and you, sir … you  are the godfather in this scenario." Evan unfolded the paper, his eyes  widening. "You're kidding me. I know loan sharks that charge less than  this."

"I never joke when it comes to library fines," Arty replied, adjusting his bowtie.

I leaned into the counter. "Arty, it was a long time ago. Isn't there a statute of limitations?"

Arty smiled. "It's not as if he committed a felony."

"Exactly," I said. "Thanks, Arty."

"If he had, there might be a statute, but I'm afraid the library is less forgiving. A fine is a fine."

"Seriously?"

"The library never forgets, young lady." He leaned in toward me as if we were conspiring. "I won't tell your mother about this."

Um … okay. Although she was a staunch defender of the library, I doubted she'd be as anal as Arty.

"Do it as a favor," I said, trying to appeal to his position as a close family friend.

Arty stood taller. I had a feeling he'd stepped on the cubicles that  lined the other side of the desk. He towered over us, his voice dropping  to a raspy whisper in what I assumed was a Don Corleone impression. He  was no Marlon Brando, but I had to give him props. He sounded legit and  even did the hand gestures. "You come to my house on the day the new  wing of the library is set to open and you ask me for a favor?"

"Let's go, Billie. I don't want to find a horse in my bed tonight," Evan said, tugging on my sleeve.

I held up my hand. "I got this." I dropped my voice and crooked my  finger toward Arty. "Tell you what, Arty. You make Evan's fines  disappear and I won't remind my mother that you still have her copy of  The Notebook."                       
       
           



       

"Blackmail does not become you, Billie."

"There is nothing I won't do in the name of good literature, Arty."

He huffed, but his fingers tapped on the keyboard again and the outcome was a very nice laminated card with Evan's name on it.

"Accept this favor and never again let anyone outside the family know what you are thinking."

"I don't know if I should shake your hand or kiss it," I replied.

Arty had a twinkle in his eye, no doubt enjoying a small opportunity to  seize power. "Now be gone with you. Read and let read, I always say."

"Yes, Godfather," I said, which was ironic, since he really was my godfather.

I grabbed Evan's hand and we walked with clipped steps, escaping with the card before Arty could change his mind.

"I'm glad you're in my corner, Price."

"Meh, he was going to waive the fine anyway. Arty loves theatrics and I wanted to make his day."

"It made mine too."

We separated for a while. I went toward the romance section, while Evan  searched the biographies. I felt his presence behind me as I gazed at  one of my favorite books.

"Are you checking that out … or are you checking him out?"

True, the man with the regency era jabot sans shirt was hot. He wasn't Evan hot, but not bad.

"I've read it a hundred times. I own it. I just like to look at it. Make sure it's still here for someone else to enjoy."

"Is it your favorite?"

"One of them-probably the one that started my love of all things  romance. It had all of those perfect grand gestures." I turned to him,  sucking a succession of deep breaths into my diaphragm and letting it  out slowly. "You know?"

"No, are you hyperventilating?"

"I'm creating that moment-the one that seizes your heart in movies and books. This story had it. Although it is very sad."

"It is?"

I nodded, pointing to the dashing model on the cover. "The hero dies  tragically saving the heroine at the end." I slapped my hand against my  mouth. "I can't believe I just gave away the ending. I hate it when  people do that."

"It's okay, Price." He took the book from me. "The Last Lusts of Lord Monroe is not on my current reading list."

"I should have figured."

He handed it back to me. I ran my finger down the spine and silently  thanked Lorraine Malter again for moving me with her words, before  putting it back in its rightful place.

"So that's the book that inspired you to write?"

"Yes, I snuck it from my mom's room when I was a kid. It might sounds  strange but even as a young girl, it made me realize what I wanted-that  kind of sacrifice."

"You want a man who dies for you?"

"Yes." Wait … that doesn't sound right.

Evan shifted closer to me. "How do you know he'd die for you if the opportunity never presented itself?"

Good question. A slow grin spread across his face-the kind that said, you're adorably amusing. It aggravated me.

"I would just know in my heart. It works both ways, Evan. I'd die for him too."

"Why would he want you to?"

"Are you making fun of me?"

"No. I'm trying to understand you."

"Why don't you show me your favorite book?"

"It's embarrassing."

"Good. Lead the way."

The old children's wing was still intact. He pursued the shelves for a while. I watched as he hunted around for it.

"I can help you."

"I got this."

He emerged from a lower shelf with a copy of The Velveteen Rabbit.

"Really?" There was nothing that could make me poke fun about this. Nothing at all.

"My mom used to read this to me when I was little. It's the first book I really remember, but I learned a lot from it."

"Such as?"

"You don't become real until someone loves you." The glasses came out of  his pocket. I told my drumming heart to shut up while he put them on.  He laid the book flat against the shelf and flipped through it, sliding  his fingers down the page. His smiled but there was a cold distance in  it. "You think that's true, Price?"                       
       
           



       

"I think some people have such a deep hurt, it's easier not to be real."  I stood next to him and looked at the pretty illustrations on each  page. "It's funny how the books you love as a child have a way of  staying with you the longest."

"Yes, it is."

I could feel Evan's suffering. Its palpable heaviness settled into the  thick air around us. I blinked away a tear before it could fall.