Page 12 of Battle of the Bookstores

He blinks. “Oh, yeah. About this whole Xander thing. I mean, there’s no reason for us to be enemies.”

“Agree,” I say, though I’m wary. I’d love to feel like we’re on the same side, united by mutual loathing of our evil boss. Unfortunately, it seems that Xander and Brian are bros, united in their mutual scorn ofme.

What’d you call her store, Lawson? A bleak wasteland of existential dread?

“Great, that’s great,” Brian is saying. “Because, um, after Xander combines the stores, it’s going to be a lot to manage and—and it’s going to require a lot of work.”

“Yes,” I say, unsure what he’s getting at. Does he think I’m not capable of it?

“I’ve been trying to think of what I could do…” He brushes his hair out of his eyes, hesitating. “So you aren’t out of a job when—”

“What do you mean,when?” My voice squeaks on the last word.

“I mean,if,” he corrects quickly.

“You saidwhen.” I swallow the surge of dread. Did Xander say something to him? Maybe this whole competition is a farce and Brian’s already got it in the bag? “Word choice matters.”

“It was a slip of the tongue.”

“A Freudian slip, maybe.”

He blinks at me from behind his glasses. “Well, I apologize.”

He doesn’t sound apologetic. He sounds irritated, which isn’t fair—he’s the one who implied I was going to lose.

Exhaling, I glance at my phone. Almost time to open. “Thanks for the chat, Brian, but I—”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT.”

I rear back, shocked. “Excuse me?”

He mumbles something I don’t catch.

“Hmm?” I say.

“Ryan,” he says more clearly. “My name? It’s…”

He turns the lanyard around:Ryan Lawson. Manager, Happy Endings.

My cheeks heat with embarrassment. I’ve been calling him the wrong name fordays.

But before I can apologize, he stands. He’s looming over me, a mountain of a man, and I scramble to my feet and try to muster a confidence I do not feel. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, if you’d let me finish.” He huffs out a frustrated sigh. “All I’m trying to say is thatifI win…” He bites his lip, then blurts, “You could be my assistant.”

Indignation sparks through me. “Yourassistant?”

“I mean, I could hire you as an assistant manager so youwouldn’t be out of a job.” The expression on his face is all,See what a nice guy I am?

“Wow, that’s great,” I say.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows lift.

“I mean, you’re the man, you should be the boss.”

“Uh…”

“And all us little women should work for you, right?” I’m gathering steam, letting the frustration I didn’t unleash on that awful customer surge out of me. “I bet that’s why you love managing a bookstore. Hordes of women asking you to tell them what to read? And hey, if those books happen to reinforce the message that women aren’t complete without a man, that’s a bonus! Patriarchy at its finest.”

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