Liars Like Us

4

I’m the only stupid person here.

I’m such a failure.

“I’ve held it together as long as I can. I’ve tried everything I could think of to raise capital. I’ve tried every kind of advertising and looked for cheap space to rent…but the reality is, I can’t keep it going any longer. I’d give anything to stop it. I’d literally cut off my own arm if it would help.” My voice breaks. “But Lit Happens is closing its doors.”

A tear escapes my eye and slips down my cheek. Embarrassed, I dash it away with my knuckle. “I’m sorry, guys. I know how much all of you count on your jobs. I’m so sorry I failed you.”

“That’s bullshit,” says Taylor forcefully.

Startled, I glance up to find her scowling at me.

“This isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of that big asswipe, ValUBooks. Why the f**k would they move right next to another bookstore? It’s like they wanted you to fail!”

I shake my head. “It wasn’t personal. The location is great, and they’ve been expanding aggressively for a few years. To be honest, I’m surprised we didn’t get one nearby sooner.”

“But right next door?” she insists. “That’s f****d up!”

In a small voice, Harper asks, “What about our health insurance?”

Sabine sends her a withering look. “There’s continuation coverage we can buy until we find other jobs.”

Harper gazes beseechingly around the table. “That’s like double the cost, though, right?”

Murph says, “Will you be able to pay us our final checks?”

He’s expressionless, but I know he’s worried about his finances. His social security income isn’t much, and he’s on several medications, none of which are cheap.

“Yes, of course,” I say, getting choked up. “And I’ll give all of you glowing references, letters of recommendation, whatever you need. ValUBooks is probably still hiring…”

Viv squeezes my knee again and says gently, “None of us would ever go to work for them, Em.”

The others agree, but I shake my head again. “You should. They’ll probably be able to pay you more than I could. And you’re all qualified. It’s the obvious choice.”

Rescuing me from having to continue, the waiter arrives with a tray of cocktails and a sparkling water for Viv.

He distributes the drinks with silent efficiency as I fight the urge to burst into tears. When everyone has a drink in hand and he’s gone, I raise my glass for a toast.

“To the future. May it be as bright as you all deserve. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for being such wonderful friends. Actually, you’re

more than my friends. You’re my family. I love you all.” When I lift the glass to my lips, my hand trembles.

Taylor says, “To the death of soulless corporations. May they all rot in hell.” She takes a gulp of her martini, then swallows and makes a face. “f**k, that tastes like ass. I should’ve ordered a beer.”

Everyone else takes a sip of their drinks. Then Murph sets his glass on the table and looks at me. “What about you, Emery? What are you going to do?”

I draw a shaky breath. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve been too focused on keeping the shop afloat to worry about what happens to me.”

Like where I’m going to get money for my food, rent, gas, utilities, credit card bills, and all the rest. The thought of it is overwhelming.

“I’ll figure it out,” I say, trying to sound optimistic.

Mr. Murphy nods understandingly. “It won’t be easy, but you’ll find a way. You’re a resourceful person.”

I force a smile, grateful for his support and hating myself for putting everyone in this position.

The conversation moves on, but I can’t stop the overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame. If only I’d been more aggressive with advertising or been more prepared for the unexpected, then maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation.

I try to push those thoughts out of my mind and focus on the present, but I can’t shake the weight of responsibility I feel. It’s suffocating. This is all my fault. If only there were something I could do… But I already know there isn’t. This is the end.

The next morning, I’m alone in the back of the shop, slumped over my desk with my eyes closed and my cheek pressed against the overdue bills scattered all over the surface, when I hear someone come through the front door.

Disoriented, I sit up. An invoice stuck to my cheek falls off and flutters to the floor.

After a moment, a deep male voice calls out, “Hello? Is anyone here?”

I smooth my hands over my hair and stand. Due to the bottle of cheap wine I drank in the dark while crying myself to sleep on my sofa last night, I’m hungover and a little unsteady on my feet.

Trying to compose myself as I walk to the front of the shop, I take a deep breath and smile.

My smile falters when I see the man standing near the register.

He’s tall and well-dressed, wearing a beautiful gray suit fitted snug across his broad shoulders. His white dress shirt is open at the collar, revealing a strong, tanned throat. His hair is dark and so are his eyes, and his square jaw is shadowed with scruff.

He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. The cloud of testosterone surrounding him is probably visible from space.

His dark gaze rakes over me, head to toe. I swear I think he can see my naked body right through my clothes. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Hi?” I say uncertainly.

“Good morning.”

His voice is low and husky. He holds my gaze without blinking. He doesn’t smile.

My v****a wakes up from her six-month nap and screams at me that though this man looks like the emotionally unavailable type with major control issues, she would very much like to be wrecked by him.

“Yes, it is a good morning. A very good morning. It certainly is.” Don’t babble, i***t! I clear my throat and smile wider to mask my selfconsciousness. “How can I help you?”

He tilts his head to one side and considers me. It’s like being hit with a spotlight. My entire body heats, scalp to toes. Then he looks around the shop, scanning it with interest.