Barista - Chapter Ten

10

 

Meredith turned in her chair and saw Alana moving in fast, like a lion running down a gazelle on the prairie. Her long blond hair looked amazing like always and she walked with a bounce in her step…which made other parts of her anatomy bounce too. Meredith knew she did it on purpose. Alana had once told her when they were out at some bar.

Meredith was suddenly embarrassed. She hadn’t texted Alana to alert her to Eric’s presence and she was nervous Alana would reveal she was a book reviewer blogger and had read Eric’s books. Why had she emailed him last night? It was so incredibly stupid.

“I’m sorry,” Meredith said. She turned back to Eric. “I don’t actually know your name.”

He stuck his hand out and smiled at Alana. On second glance, he was kind of cute and when he smiled he was actually handsome. She realized it was the first time she’d seen him smile since he’d been coming.

“I’m Not Awesome,” he said. “I’m just Eric.”

Alana laughed breathily at the joke. Meredith tried not to roll her eyes.

“Oh, our Meredith is Very Awesome,” Alana said. “Did you know that she’s a speed reader?”

Meredith shot Alana a fierce look.

“Speed-reader, huh?” Eric smiled at her. He needed to smile more. It made him look less like a dick.

She nodded.

Alana said, “And what do you do, Eric?”

Meredith watched as Eric blushed. Figured. It was laughable how easily Alana could score a guy. They just looked at those big, blond locks and those big boobs and they were goners. It was disappointing to find out that Eric was just like every other guy on the planet. Put a pair of big tits in their face and they were happy.

“I’m a writer,” he said.

Meredith started. Why had he been vague with her, but upfront with Alana? Was she not good enough to hear the truth? She was liking him less and less.

“A writer?” Alana said as innocently as possible. “Very cool. What’s your last name?”

“Hanlon.”

“Eric Hanlon. You’re Eric Hanlon?”

Alana couldn’t have laid it on any thicker.

He could barely look either of them in the eye. “Yeah.”

“I’ve read your books. I love, love, love The Hard Woman. Though honestly, you could make your sex scenes a little hotter.”

Alana shot her a quick look.

Eric looked like he wanted to crawl under the table.

Alana picked up on his unease and changed direction. “I wish I could recommend your books to readers, but the store doesn’t let us promote anything we can’t order.”

Meredith watched his reaction carefully. She knew from reviewing his books that he self-published. Many authors situated like him had a huge chip on their shoulder. Having been rejected by agents and editors, they felt like they had to prove themselves and that they didn’t need the blessing of the so-called New York gatekeepers.

But Eric grew thoughtful. “So how could I get my books in here?”

“You’ll have to talk to my manager,” she said. “Maybe there’s some arrangement we could work out. Do you use CreateSpace for your hard copies?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” he said.

She nodded like she appreciated his struggles, but Meredith didn’t feel like hearing the woe-is-me, writing-is-hard crap. Writing was just like anything else. Anybody could do it if they put the time in. And anybody could learn the business. There were plenty of how-to’s online. All Eric had to do was read up and figure it out. If he worked hard enough he could get his books into their store. Typical writer, though. Always blamed the business for his problems.

That confirmed it for her. He was one of those proud self-publishing sorts, the kind that was constantly thumbing his nose at New York for failing to have recognized his genius and not offering him a multi-million dollar contract. Meredith hadn’t known their independent bookstore prohibited employees from referring readers to self-published books that weren’t available through their store. It totally sucked and was capitalism at its worst, but she didn’t feel sorry for Eric. He was kind of a jerk.

“It would be great if I could talk to your manager. Could you help me get a meeting?” Eric said.

“Sure thing, I work at the Reader Services desk.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen you around.” Eric winked at her.

Alana’s eyes went wide and she pretended to be embarrassed. Meredith knew she was not and was in fact eating this up.

“You’re not so bad yourself. I could turn you into a bestseller if they let me. Just ask Awesome right here—I have a super power.”

Eric turned to her. “She has a super power?”

“She has a super power,” Meredith managed to say.

“And what is that?”

Meredith sighed. “Finding the perfect book for anybody.”

“Is that right?” he said. “Could you find one for me?”

Alana studied him for five seconds. “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Eric stared at her dumbly. “Are you serious?”

She nodded. “It would help you with your sex scenes.”

Eric laughed nervously. “Maybe I’ll check it out.”

“You won’t be disappointed, I promise.”

Meredith could tell that Eric wanted to die from embarrassment. “Alana has a gift. You should read it.”

“Have you read it?” Eric asked her.

Meredith had but felt uncomfortable telling Eric that for some reason. “No.”

Alana shook her head. “Of course she has. She’s just embarrassed to admit it.”

Meredith was ready to strangle Alana. She’d made her swear, under penalty of death, not to tell anyone she’d read that book.

Alana caught her look and turned back to Eric. “So, what does a writer do for fun?”

Meredith was in serious danger of puking in her mouth. She couldn’t stand to watch Alana flirt with this guy. She wanted to excuse herself but thought it would look funny if she got up and suddenly left. More importantly, she wanted to make sure Alana didn’t tell Eric who she really was. So she had to stay. She just hoped the vomit-worthy flirting would end soon.

“Not much these days,” he said. “Too busy writing.”

“In that case, how about you and I do something fun?”

Eric seemed to remember that Meredith was sitting next to him. His blush deepened. His eyes darted nervously from Alana to her and back again.

Before he could answer, Alana followed up. “How about this weekend?”

“Oh, I actually…” He looked at Meredith, then back up at Alana. “…I’m going to be at a conference.”

“The Allentown one?” Alana asked. She looked at Meredith.

He was looked surprised they’d heard of it. “Yeah, that one.”

“We’re going,” Alana said, putting her arm around Meredith’s shoulders.

Meredith turned in her chair to face Alana. “We are?”

“How could you forget?” Alana said.

Meredith did not want to go. Not only because she hated hearing writers talk about their hallowed craft, but because her ex was on one of the panels. She hated that she knew that, but some masochistic part of her still read his newsletter. She’d never been able to one-click her way off the distribution list.

Alana nodded. “Maybe we could catch up after the sessions? The guys will be all over Meredith—we could probably double up.”

Meredith couldn’t take it anymore. She stood. “Okay, Eric, I’ll see you later.”

Alana grabbed her arm. “Did Meredith tell you she’s a book review blogger?”

Eric turned back to her. “Really?”

Meredith nodded. That was it. She was definitely going to kill Alana.

“Oh wow. Do you review thrillers?”

Meredith pretended to think. “I think I’ve reviewed your books actually.”

He frowned. “What’s the name of your blog?”

She told him.

“I remember!” His face lit up. “You gave me a few good ones.”

Meredith didn’t know what to say and Alana being all flirty wasn’t making things any easier.

“I really appreciate it,” Eric said.

She could tell he was desperate for reviews. Self-published writers lived and died by them, because they had very few other ways to market their work. Not unless they were independently wealthy.

And Meredith knew Eric Hanlon wasn’t independently wealthy. He’d never bought a damned thing from the café.