Page 11 of Business or Pleasure

There'd be the occasional jackass who claimed comics and games were only for men with testicles and testosterone. Fortunately, none of the staff could get away with that because Bert, the owner, wouldn't let it happen. He once fired an employee for expressing a crude, sexist view of a female gamer.

I also liked the dress code. My tattoos and piercings didn't matter. Bert was more likely to reprimand the guys for looking sloppy or scraggly than he was to complain about my body art. Even though I like to dress sexy and show some skin, I knew the difference between work and club-appropriate, which was why I was wearing nice jeans, a v-neck t-shirt, boots, and a leather jacket.

Even in June, Monday afternoons weren't usually busy, but Bert scheduled inventory today, so there were three of us here.

I was good at working the counter and helping customers, but I had to admit it was nice to stay in the stockroom sometimes, not having to deal with customers.

Wells King was behind the front desk when I walked in, and he raised a hand in greeting. He was a couple of years younger than me, early to mid-twenties, though I didn’t know his exact age. But Wells was massive, rather scary looking. However, I enjoyed working with him because he dealt with the rude jackasses.

Only Bert and I knew Wells was a gentle giant. The store didn’t have security guards, and while most people wouldn’t think a comic book store had things worth stealing, some of the rare editions were worth hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars.

I went directly to the small break room to drop off my purse and jacket. As I was clocking in, I nearly bumped into Lester Bean, who would be doing inventory with me today.

He was the oldest employee here, probably around the same age as Bert, but wasn't the most mature. It was my first time working alone with him, though. He wasn't exactly creepy, but he wasn't the most likable either.

“Hey,” I said as we walked to the front desk, keeping a safe distance. I didn’t constantly worry that much about personal space, but there were exceptions.

“Bert wants you to use the new tablet.” Wells pointed to it as we got to the desk.

“Finally.” Lester let out a sigh of relief. “I kept telling him we couldn’t expect gamers to take us seriously if our tech was outdated.”

Wells and I exchanged glances, but neither of us said anything. Lester played games, but he wasn't a gamer. Even though he tried to sound tech-savvy, everyone knew Lester couldn't even use his phone.

“Did you set it up to sync automatically?” I ignored Lester and asked Wells. Despite his young age, Wells was Bert's right-hand man, and he deserved that position.

“Before we opened,” Wells said with a nod.

We chatted longer since no one else was in the store, but finally, I straightened and gestured to Lester. “We better get started.”

He let out another sigh, definitely one of annoyance. The man must have at least a dozen different sighs. “All right. But I have a question. How will we both use the same tablet?”

I’d been wondering the same thing, and as we entered the storeroom, I had a solution. “One of us will take inventory, and the other will log it in.”

“Okay.” He held out his hand for the tablet.

“Why don’t you go on,” I said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

With a huff, Lester walked away. Once he was out of earshot, I turned to Wells. “If I have to listen to another argument about how Patty Jenkins ruined Wonder Woman by making Diana so independent, I’m going to beat Lester to death with Bert’s ax.”

“The ax is foam,” Wells pointed out.

“I didn’t say I’d make it quick,” I shot back.

Wells laughed, a soft sort of chuckle that didn’t fit a man his size. He was still smiling when the bell over the door rang.

Squinting from the sun, I could only make out the outline of a muscular figure just under six feet tall. Then the door closed. A man with thick brown hair and a too-charming smile stood in front of me. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I knew they were blue because I’d gotten my eye color from him.

Franklin Cook.

My father.

Shit.

What the hell was he doing here?

Wells offered a greeting. I tried to sneak away without talking to dear ole dad, but I was out of luck.

“Harlee, wait. I need to talk to you.”

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