Chapter Twelve
The Incomer
One man’s meat is another man’s tofu.
The bookshop was hot, and the morning sun was streaming through the window. I looked out of the window into the empty street and felt a huge sense of relief. No customers to face, the gods had been kind.
I was a mixed ball of emotion. Just when I thought I had a grip on my situation and had gained some sort of control, Rodger had thrown me another curve ball, confused me. I tried to tell myself I could work it out, that I was a self-taught, self-styled belly dancer who had brains as well as pliable hips, but I wasn’t convinced. I had no idea what to do.
I decided to bask in the sunlight for a bit and absorb the energies of the day, a favourite expression of Imogen’s. I sat on the couch, and began my first intake of clean
