Page 8

Jude

Jude’s will to make it through the day gave out around the same time as the bottom of a box filled with copies of a viral book called Liberal Snowflakes: How Left-Leaning Colleges Make America’s Youth Weak.

It had been on the nonfiction bestseller list for weeks, but Jude had managed to avoid ordering it until their last staff meeting, when Stephen had insisted that not only were they putting it on shelves, they were also having the author in to give a talk in three weeks.

Jude had spent a full half hour trying to convince him that compromising the store’s brand would mean losing customers.

But Stephen’s view was that a bookstore should be dedicated to free speech, which meant showcasing both sides.

Then he reminded her that the store belonged to him now, not her family, and maybe it was time he started taking a more active role in running the business.

Fifteen minutes later, he’d sent an email looping L.J. in with the Liberal Snowflakes author’s publicist to schedule an event.

Still, Jude didn’t intend to make the books easy to find.

She had been in the process of lugging the copies to the shadowy back of the satire section, ignoring both the Notable Nonfiction and the New Releases displays entirely, when the bottom of the box had given out and several liberal snowflakes had landed on her toes.

Instead of picking up the books and continuing on, or even cursing and throwing a few of them, Jude had just stared at the fallen copies before sinking down and lying on the ground next to them, staring up at the framed photo of her and her mom hanging on the store’s back wall.

Jude’s mom, Susanna, had opened The Next Chapter eighteen years ago, fulfilling her lifelong dream of owning a bookstore.

When she first signed the lease, she and Jude had come to the store every single night on their way home from afterschool care.

Susanna would unlock the door and lead Jude a few steps into the building, then flick on the lights with a dramatic gesture.

“Look,” she would say, with a reverent whisper.

“This is what a dream in progress looks like.”

Most nights, the store looked exactly the same as it had the night before.

Concrete dust and plastic sheeting and bare, cold walls.

Jude would complain sometimes about having to stop by the store to stare at the same old room every day, but her mom would shake her head.

“Building dreams isn’t glamorous, Jude. It takes a lot of hard work.

Sometimes you can’t even tell you’re making progress until you’re already there. ”

Jude would roll her eyes and groan, but she didn’t put up too much of a fight about visiting.

Because some nights, everything would suddenly be different.

She came in one day to find a beautiful, sparkling wooden floor laid where before there had only been treacherous two-by-fours.

One evening, as if by magic, shelves appeared along the walls—tall, dark wood bookshelves running all along the room. A dream, suddenly come to life.

The Next Chapter opened when Jude was seven.

She spent most of her childhood running through the store, helping with little tasks and getting in the way, until she turned fifteen and her mom had shown her how to use the register and announced that she officially had a part-time job.

She’d worked there until she’d moved to Chicago to go to college.

When she left, she figured the store would always be part of her life, as familiar to her as the apartment she’d grown up in—a home she could return to whenever she came back to New York.

But then her mom had gotten breast cancer.

When she went in for her third round of treatments, she’d sold the bookstore to Stephen Delk, who already owned four bookstores in the city, under one condition—that she be allowed to buy the store back at market value if she ever wanted.

When she’d died shortly after Jude’s college graduation, Stephen had agreed to extend the same offer to Jude, as long as she stayed on and ran the bookstore, since she was the only other person with a working knowledge of the inventory system.

And here she was, three years later and no closer to having the amount of money she would need to buy the store back. And now Stephen was planning to “take a more active role” in daily management.

Jude closed her eyes, then opened them again when she heard footsteps coming up behind her.

“I should really write you up for slacking on the job,” Rhys said. Jude saw his cane come to a stop at the edge of her peripheral vision. He must have been having a bad pain day.

Rhys was only twenty-five, but he had hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which meant his joints were unstable. They dislocated often and caused him pain, particularly in his knees and back. He didn’t talk about it very much, but Jude knew that he was always in some pain, even on good days.

“Well, if you do, I’ll write you up for insubordination,” Jude said.

“Hmm. Mutually assured destruction. Touché.” Rhys leaned against the Travel section, where he could keep an eye on the front door and also look down at Jude. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about how Stephen is determined to ruin the brand we’ve spent years building and turn this place into an impersonal chain store? No thanks.”

Rhys nodded slowly. “What about talking about how you’ve been extra moody since you didn’t ask that girl out?”

Jude glared at him, then sat up and started gathering the scattered copies of Liberal Snowflakes into a pile. She noted with satisfaction that several of the dust jackets were bent at the edges. It wasn’t her fault that these conservative publishers hadn’t invested in sturdy enough boxes.

“Got it,” Rhys said. “But maybe you should download—”

Jude hoisted a book into the air threateningly. “If you say a dating app, you are getting a hardcover to the head.”

Rhys sighed. “Go take a break,” he said. “These liberal snowflakes will still think they’re special when you come back.”

Jude left the pile of books on the ground, eager for an exit from the conversation, and went into the back, a large concrete space that was half book storage and half staff room.

Talia and L.J. were already in there, sitting around the worn wooden table and trying to throw grapes into each other’s mouths.

As Jude came in, L.J. caught one and Talia cheered.

“Heya,” L.J. said through their mouthful of grape.

Jude nodded at them and slumped down in front of the computer, pretending to check their inventory so she didn’t have to talk to them.

Rhys was right. She’d been in a worse mood than usual since meeting Kat.

Jude hadn’t dated anyone since her ex, Becca, had completely shattered her heart more than two years ago.

She hadn’t even been interested in anyone.

But then Kat had walked into her life, and for a second Jude had thought… What if?

But hope was dangerous. It made life feel even emptier when it inevitably went away.

She heard Rhys say something to a customer, and then his footsteps coming toward the storeroom. She straightened up and tried to make herself look less existential-crisis-y.

Rhys shut the door behind him and leaned against it, his eyes wide. All three of them turned to face him.

“So, I have a confession to make,” he said, in a faux-casual voice.

“You’re in love with me?” Talia guessed.

“You’re in love with Stephen?” L.J. suggested.

“You’re in love with Stephen and he’s pregnant with an evil capitalist baby?” Talia added excitedly.

“Oh, oh!” L.J. said. “You’re in love with Stephen and he’s pregnant with your evil baby and —”

“Oh my God, you are not as funny as you think you are,” Rhys said, cutting them off. “No. I, um…” He looked at Jude, his cheeks turning oddly pink. “Do you remember Katrina Kelly?”

Jude raised her eyebrows.

“Right. Yeah. Of course you do.” He ran a hand through his hair, then said in a rush, “I messaged her from the bookstore account pretending to be you and asked her out.”

“You WHAT?” all three of them shouted at once.

“I know!” Rhys said. “But you said you guys had this really great connection and I figured there was only a slim chance that she would respond but you’d regret it forever if you didn’t try andI—”

“Dude.” L.J. shook their head. “Total invasion of privacy.”

Rhys winced. “I know, I know. It was really bad. And I’m sorry. But not that sorry because”—he glanced at the closed door behind him and then lowered his voice—“she’s in the store right now and she just asked for you.”

Talia shrieked. Jude choked. Actually, literally choked on a mouthful of spit and started hacking and coughing.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Rhys said, clapping her on the back. “Get that out in here. And then when you go out, you can just be calm and relaxed and take deep breaths, right?”

“Um,” Jude said.

“Stand up so we can see how you look,” Rhys said.

Jude stood. Her three friends stared at her, unsatisfied expressions on their faces.

“Let me fix your hair,” Talia said, coming over.

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Just—come here.”

“Ew, don’t use spit! That’s disgusting.”

“It’s not my fault you’ve never seen a comb,” Talia hissed.

“Try tucking in your shirt,” L.J. suggested.

Jude complied. They all frowned at her.

“Okay, never mind,” L.J. said. “Untuck it. But use an iron once in a while. Jesus.”

“This is not helping my confidence levels,” Jude complained.

“Okay. Deep breaths.” Rhys stared into her eyes like a boxing coach. “You are hot. You are funny. You are smart. You can do this.”

Jude nodded. “Okay. Cool. I’m gonna walk out there. So calm.”

“Attaboy.” Rhys smacked her ass and then gave her a little shove toward the door. “And for God’s sake, don’t forget to ask her out this time.”

Jude nodded again. Her throat was so dry she could feel each breath rasping over the surface. She rolled her shoulders back and opened the door.

Kat was at the register, looking at her phone. Jude stood there for a moment, ogling. She hadn’t fully believed that Kat was actually here until this moment.

Maybe she just wanted to return the books she’d bought. Maybe she’d hated all of Jude’s suggestions and she wanted to lodge an official complaint.

“Um,” Jude said, “hi?” She immediately cringed. Um, hi? was not the confident pickup line she would have chosen under more rational-thinking circumstances. She had a sudden vision of all three of her friends pressed against the storeroom door, smacking themselves in the forehead.

Kat looked up. Their eyes met, and she stared at Jude for a few seconds, her eyes wide. Distantly, Jude was aware that she couldn’t breathe. But needs like breathing suddenly seemed trivial.

“Um, hi,” Kat repeated with a slight smile. She was wearing a pair of tight leather pants and a black jacket with a gold cowboy-style fringe. It would have looked ridiculous on a normal person, but on her it looked absolutely heavenly.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Jude walked a little closer. She felt suddenly like she had too many hands and not enough places to put them. Crossing her arms seemed unfriendly, but holding them at her sides seemed unbelievably awkward and strange. Good lord, what did she normally do with her hands?

“You too.” Kat looked away, her cheeks slightly pink. “I got your message.”

“Oh, right! My message.” Jude was going to kill Rhys. How was she supposed to reply if she didn’t even know what she’d allegedly said?

Kat stared at her expectantly for several long seconds. Then, she said, “Well, do you want to get that drink?”

“Oh! Yes.” Jude was still dealing with the excess-of-hands problem, except that now they were also very sweaty. She tried to rub them subtly on the front of her jeans. “Um, do you mean right now?”

“Yeah.” Katrina’s shoulder twitched, almost like a shrug. “You free?”

“Um, the store doesn’t close for another—”

The storeroom door cracked open. “She can go!” Talia called through the crack.

“Oh.” Jude’s face started to burn. “Well. I guess that’s that, then. Um. Shall we?”