Tokyo Heist by Diana Renn Read Free Book Online

time on your hands,” Jerry says. “Now get busy.” He flings the notepad down and retreats to his office, belching loudly.
    Doodles! Ugh! Jerry is such a baka ! And I guess this isn’t the best time to give notice.
    I restock the small box of manga first, setting aside Vampire Sleuths 43 for myself. I’m just starting in on the Marvel and DC boxes and stealing a sip of coffee, when the door opens.
    In walks Edge. Smiling, flashing his adorable dimples, he hands me a Venti Starbucks. “I figured you had a long commute this morning. Thought you might need fuel.”
    “Thanks. I did. And I do.” I take the coffee from him, and our fingers brush for one split second. My eyes turn into hearts like in a romance manga.
    Edge is not movie-star cute. Maybe the space between his front teeth and his slightly chubby waistline have kept him from being a total girl magnet. But those are two things I happen to love about him. And the way his hair falls into his eyes. Oh, and his clothes. Today he wears a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A 1940s waistcoat, brown twill pants, and spectator shoes. How could Mardi even think of trying to change him? “Did you walk all the way here with this coffee?” I ask, suddenly conscious of staring at him.
    “My mom dropped me off. We hit a drive-through Starbucks on the way. I mean, we didn’t hit it, literally, but we drove through. Through the drive-through part. Where the cars go.” He looks down. Guess he’s pretty nervous about revealing his rendezvous with Mardi. “Oh. It looks like you’re already fueling up,” he adds, noticing the 7-Eleven cup in my other hand.
    “It’s okay. I’ll drink them both. I had a really long night.”
    “Yeah? Me too.”
    “Oh?” I take a sip from each cup and set them both down. Then I continue my X-Men restock. “I left you some messages,” I say cautiously.
    “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I was at, um, at Mardi Cooper’s.”
    I shove a stack of X-Men into a rack so hard I crease a cover. Jerry will kill me.
    “Turns out she’s going to the same film camp. She has a music video she made for some friends. That’s the demo she’s bringing to camp. But she’s having trouble with her editing software. We had to reinstall everything and start over. I didn’t get home till midnight. I figured it was too late to call you back.”
    Now I feel stupid for assuming the worst. Edge was just being his helpful self.
    “She shot her video at Sheridan Beach,” he goes on. “She’s got the band out on a dock. Dry ice. Superimposed ghosts on waverunners. Pretty spiffy stuff. She’s got some talent.”
    “Ghosts on waverunners. Wow.” Frowning, I grab a stack of Superman s.
    “You okay?” Edge asks.
    “It’s nothing. I just . . . hate . . . Superman,” I mutter.
    “How can you hate Superman? He can leap tall buildings in a single bound.”
    “Because. Look at this. Superman, and all his spinoff titles, take up three whole rows on this rack. All these male superheroes, actually, take up three-quarters of the racks in the stores. Now look at the manga. Just that one small bookshelf over there. I keep telling Jerry we should order more titles. But he’s clueless. He thinks manga’s just for girls, and that we won’t sell enough here.” I’m babbling, but I can’t stop. I can talk about comics on and on, but I just can’t talk about the one thing that really matters.
    “Once Kimono Girl is published,” Edge says, “your boss will realize the error of his ways. And he’ll have to stock it.”
    “Yeah. Right. Like I’m going to publish it and fill a shelf in this store.”
    “Who said anything about a shelf? I’m talking wall , Violet. Picture it.” Edge makes a sweeping gesture. “A wall of shelves full of Kimono Girl episodes. Floor to ceiling.”
    For a moment, I can picture it. I manage a smile. “I guess then Jerry would be on his hands and knees, begging me to do