Page 1 of Devious Corruption
I’m in the middle of a purchase order when my phone vibrates on my desk. After a quick glance, noticing it’s Joey, I let it go to voicemail.
Whatever my brother needs can wait until I’m finished with this order. We have a local author coming into the store in a few weeks for a reading, and if I don’t have the books available when he gets here, it’ll be my job.
Never mind that I’ve done all the leg work to get the author—a new, up and coming crime novelist—to come into this rinky-dink store. Or that I’ve handled all of the marketing for the small event.
If any one thing should go wrong, it’ll be my ass. And Mr. Miller will never let me talk him into hosting something like this again. Which would hurt the store morethan me, but if this bookstore doesn’t do well, I’ll be out of a job, anyway.
Though, not having his books in stock when the author is here for the sole purpose of reading from it and selling copies, would be a pretty big blunder on my part.
The bell over the front door of the shop dings as I submit the order. When I step out of the back office, Joey stands at the front of the shop. With his dark brown hair slicked back, his worn out, oversized leather bomber jacket hanging open, and his pants hanging low on his hips, he looks every bit the thieving hooligan our foster mom accused him of becoming.
“Joey.” I wave to him, then make my way up the main aisle of the book shop.
There’s a woman lingering in the romance section, a pathetically small collection given the number of readers that flock to the genre. I need to have a conversation with Mr. Miller about giving up some space in the cookbook section to expand the romance section.
A man flips through a hardcover book in the self-help area. He lets loose a deep bellied and wet sounding belch as I pass by. Hopefully, whatever he’s reading will help him better his manners.
“What are you doing here?” I grab Joey’s arm and pull him away from the door as another woman pushes through, a little girl grasping her left hand.
“Hi,” I smile brightly at her.
“Princess book!” The little girl bounces on her toes, sending her ponytail floppingaround.
“You have a kid’s section, right?” The mother asks.
Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun on the top of her head, and the dark circles under her eyes suggests she hasn’t been sleeping as well as her little girl lately. When the girl jerks her hand back, her coat opens more, exposing her rounded belly.
“Of course. It’s in the back of the store, right through the main aisle here, then on the left.” I point the way, and she shuffles off, the little girl bouncing beside her and yanking her arm.
“Hey.” Joey pokes me. “You gonna stand there staring at that little girl, or you gonna pay attention?”
“I’m at work. Can’t this wait until I get home?” I maneuver around him and pick up the box of bookmarks I need to stock at the front register.
I need to rework the displays up here, but Serafina called off today and Michelle is working her second job today and can’t cover. So it’s just me. The display can be put together another day.
“Don’t get mad at me; I called. You didn’t pick up.” He jabs a finger in my direction.
“Because I’m at work.” I grab a fist full of the bookmarks and shove them in the appropriate slots. “And you called less than five minutes ago, so you were already here.”
He flashes an innocent smile. “Still. You didn’t pick up.”
“What do you need?” I break down the empty box and push it into the trash can.
“The key to your apartment. Keith left some stuff there last night; I need to get it.” He leans a hip against a display table, knocking over a propped-up book.
“No.” I pick up the book and fix the display. “I’ll be home in two hours. You can come get whatever it is then.”
“C’mon, Max. Just give me the key. I don’t have time to wait.”
“Joey, the last time I let you in the apartment when I wasn’t there, you let Marion out and you didn’t lock my door. You’ll have to wait.” After I fix the display, I sigh. “What is it, anyway? I didn’t see anything after you guys left last night.”
He avoids my gaze. A tell I learned quickly after meeting him in the home we shared as foster kids. Right before telling a bald-faced lie, Joey sweeps his gaze down to the floor. Keith’s tried to rid him of the habit, but some habits die hard.
“And don’t bother lying. Just tell me, Joey.” I fold my arms over my chest and do my best impression of a strict older sister.
Only, I’m two years younger than them. While we aren’t blood related, we spent the last five years of my youth in the same home, bonded by the foster care system.
“Just something we need to move tonight. The guy Keith needs to give it to wants to meet at six.” He lifts a shoulder. “C’mon, Max. I’ll make sure the cat doesn’t get out, and I’ll lock the door and put the key in your mailbox.”
