Blushing Pink by Jill Winters Read Free Book Online Page B

minutes left on the clock. She might have enough time to swing by the new fiction table and check out the December releases. It wasn't like it paid to start her shift early—not when she was working in an environment where a "long" duration in the bathroom was docked as a sick day.
    On her way out of the break room, she stole a peek at the work schedule posted on the door, listing who would be working with her that day. Her eyes roved across the sheet until they landed on the names Rhoda Dobson and Clay Duckman. Oh, jeez.
    Rhoda and Clay both worked full-time at the store, and had to be the most pretentious people she'd ever met. The most basic problem with them was their shared delusion that if they sold books, shelved them, or in any way handled them in a professional capacity, they were part of the literati. Strange but true. They both earned eight dollars an hour, yet were imbued with so much elitism, they would mock customers who bought "mindless trash," rather than what Rhoda and Clay supposedly read, "very obscure poetry."
    Please.
    In many ways, Rhoda and Clay reminded Reese of the graduate students and professors at Crewlyn. More strangers she couldn't relate to—another place where she'd never truly belonged. Which begged the question, of course: Where did she belong? And with whom?
    Now she shuffled around the bend and cut a quick right toward fiction. One thing about working at Roland & Fisk: It kept Reese's desire to write fresh in her mind, surrounding her with so many gorgeous books....
    Just then, an unmistakable shrill voice shattered the moment. "This isn't your post, Brock!"
    "Oh! I-I know; I was just on my way there."
    "Ooh, congratulations," Darcy mocked, and crossed her arms over her chest, partially covering the embossed glitter cursive that read Baby Girl with Attitude. It seemed totally inconceivable that Reese hadn't noticed how immature Darcy was when she'd interviewed for the job. She'd just thought she was "quirky." ( Another hah!) "Quirky" implied some uniqueness of style. No, that was definitely not Darcy... who was twisting her pale blond hair around her finger while squinting her shimmery eyelids at her subordinate. "Now, maybe you'd better get to your post before you're docked for an extra lunch hour," she threatened—meaning it.
    "Right, okay." Teenybopper wench .
    "Now," she whined, snapping her fingers in rapid succession.
    Reese scrambled away, thinking, My life is definitely lacking something. She darted over to her post—known in lay-speak as the register. "Hi, guys, what's up?" she said to Rhoda and Clay, who were apparently engrossed in a conversation about feng shui.
    They both said hello, and continued their pseudointellectual exchange of half-witted pontifications. Meanwhile, Reese busied herself by straightening the little gift items that were sold behind the counter. Looking at her coworkers, she'd guess they were both around her age. Rhoda was tall and slim; she usually wore a turban around her hair, large hoop earrings, and a vintage Straight but Not Narrow pin on her collar.
    Clay, on the other hand, was preppy. Well, sort of. On more than one occasion, Reese had noticed a butterfly collar creeping out from under his J.Crew sweater. He had bleached-blond hair that was combed forward—a style Reese still struggled to understand, several years after its inception. He also wore black-rimmed glasses that angled up at the corners, reminding her of her late Nana, Maggie, except Nana's had been cooler.
    "So you switched your hours?" Rhoda asked casually.
    "Oh, yeah," Reese replied. "I'm on break from school now, so my days are free."
    "That's cool," Clay added blandly.
    Then they fell quiet. Maybe they'd temporarily run out of "obscure poets" to talk about—or around. Just then, there was a page over the loudspeaker: "Brock to the break room. Brock to the break room. Now."
    The three of them exchanged a confused look before Reese turned and scurried from behind the counter,