Castle in the Air
By Steampunk . Chuckster
Summary: Sarah has opened her dream bookstore just before the holiday season, but when a corporate monopoly announces their reduced-price brick-and-mortar is going in a block away, she must band together with her fellow small businesses to fight for their lives, even if it means getting past a slew of bad first impressions to work with Chuck, the owner of the comic book shop next door. AU Charah.
A/N: Thanks for the warm reception to this holiday fic! Hope you continue to enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or its characters, and any similarities in this fic to any corporate entities are just coincidence... shh.
"Pssssst!"
Chuck blinked, looking up from his computer. He glanced to and fro. Nobody.
"Pssst. Mister!"
What the…?
Standing up, he followed the sound of the small voice and leaned over the counter, finding a kid who looked to be maybe seven or eight years old. A short seven or eight years old at that. He literally couldn't see the guy until he leaned all the way over his counter.
He leaned his elbows on it and smiled down at the boy.
"Oh. Well, hello, sir. Can I help you with somethin'?"
"Do you have Sonic?"
Chuck thought for a moment, glancing around his store. "Sir Sonic, Hog of the Hedge?"
"Huh?"
Chuck cleared his throat, deciding maybe he was getting a little too cute. This kid knew what he wanted and he was gonna get it. He wasn't here for silliness. He meant business. "Yep. Absolutely. Follow me."
He took him to the section, removing the bins from the counter where he kept them and setting them on the floor so that the kid could reach them. "Who's your favorite? I'm a Knuckles guy. He's tight."
"Tails."
"Awwww yesss! Tails is so cool! When I was a kid, my best buddy Morgan had a SEGA gaming system. We'd play the Sonic game and since it was Morgan's system, I'd have to be player two, which meant I was always Tails. And I loved him."
The kid was already deep into browsing though, combing through the comics. His dad (or maybe big brother? Chuck couldn't tell) finally wandered over with a huge pile of comics in hand. "Thanks, man," he said to Chuck.
"No prob. He can knock himself out in there. Some of that's on sale, too."
"Sick. He's a big Sonic guy."
"Means he's got taste," Chuck said adamantly, and then he excused himself, heading back to the front counter. But he stopped short when he saw his girlfriend waiting there, one elbow leaned on the counter, wearing a crop top, leather jacket, and jeans that were all cute and bunched with elastic halfway down her calves. "Hey!"
It had been over a week since he'd had to cancel their date, and in that time, she'd been mum. She hadn't answered calls, or texts. And his visit to her sandwich shop had been awkward, to say the least. She'd taken him aside, told him not to "trip", whatever that was supposed to mean, and to just give her space. They'd talk when she was ready.
He guessed she was ready now.
"What's up? It's, um…it's been…a bit. You okay? Are…we okay?" he asked quietly as he approached, leaning in close and reaching up to shift some of her hair away from her shoulder.
"Can we talk in private?"
That felt like a hard no.
And he was experiencing the kind of terrible buzzing, tingling sensation that happened when you're in the airplane headed someplace far away, watching as the airport gets smaller and smaller and smaller out of your window…only to remember you left your wallet on the counter at the newsstand when you bought that Wired magazine…
"…Chuck?"
He shook himself. "Oh. S-Sorry. Yeah. Gimme a…um, just a sec. Please."
She nodded mutely, pulling her lips back between her teeth and glancing away from him.
This did not bode well, at all.
He'd felt this before, more than once, and he knew the feeling. All too well. His gut was churning, his heart slamming against his ribcage in the worst way. He headed over to where Flint was restocking.
"Hey, Flint… I gotta step out for a few minutes. Would you mind watchin' the floor?"
"Sure, boss." They saluted him with a smile, but then when they glanced over towards the desk and saw Lou waiting for him, the smile dimmed. They looked right at him with a stricken look. Shit. They knew, too. "If you hafta…take a little longer, that's okay. I've got this. Take your time."
Well, that was both kind and felt like a dagger in the gut. So that was a really strange mixture of things.
"Um. Thanks."
"Sure."
He walked back to Lou like a dog with its tail between its legs, pushing a hand through his hair. "You wanna step out back or…"
"My car's in the lot out here."
And yet another punch to the gut as he followed her through his shop and out of the door. But instead of heading for the parking lot, she led him to the bench where they usually ate together if she brought him lunch. It didn't feel like that would ever be a thing again. It was there, blended in the horrible tense air surrounding them.
Lou whirled on him, crossing her arms. "You've really let me down, Chuck. Like, a lot."
"I…know. I'm sorry."
"Are you?"
He raised his gaze to hers and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? Of course I am. The shop has been hectic and with a big release day coming up, I had a lot of work to get done, but that meant neglecting you and I'm genuinely sorry about it."
Lou sighed, leaning on the edge of the picnic table and popping one leg. "You are a genuine guy, Chuck. I do like you. And it's not that you're, like, a bad kid or somethin'. You're a gent. Like a full-blown nice guy, not the guys who think they're nice guys but they're actually just assholes. You're a real live nice guy."
…Thanks?
She squinted her eyes at him and tilted her head. "…You really don't see it, do you? You don't feel it…"
"What?" He shrugged.
She gestured between them. "We clearly like each other. Sex was pretty good…" Chuck spun to look around, blushing bright red. Nobody was nearby, nobody had heard that. Okay, good. Good. That was good. "Ohmigod, don't be such a dork. We're grown-ups. But when we decided to start, like, calling this thing a relationship, we both said we wanted to prioritize our businesses. Right? Remember that?"
"Yeah. Of course. And we have. Only now I'm…getting the boot for it. At least, that's where this is going, right?" he asked, feeling a sadness flooding up from inside of him. He couldn't look at her face, instead staring at her elbow. This felt bad. Hurtful, embarrassing, the full gamut.
"That's why you think we're out here having this discussion?" she asked. "No! God. I mean, it helped me sort of figure shit out, but this isn't about you cancelling our date last week so that you could receive all your comic books."
Chuck was confused, and he crossed his arms as if that would make him feel less exposed and vulnerable. "It…isn't?"
"It's what I said. We like each other. We've got a good physical thing, too, I guess. It's just… not there."
What was 'it'?
"Ya know? It isn't clicking. Like one of us doesn't have the right piece. Or neither of us has the right piece. I don't wanna blame it all on you. That's not what this is."
"We…don't have the right pieces? So you are breaking up with me…"
"Yeah. I am." She looked deeply regretful, guilty even. And he didn't like that she was feeling guilty. Like she was letting down a kid by not getting them what they wanted for Christmas or something.
"Shit." He huffed, pushing his hand through his hair. "I guess I don't get what…happened. If it wasn't about the cancelled dates and stuff…"
"We don't go together, Chuck. I like you, but I don't want to force this after a couple of months of it not…feeling good."
He frowned. "It felt good for me."
"Did it?" She whistled low. "Christ, my guy, you are not paying attention, are you?" She winced when he frowned harder, feeling the sting of her words acutely. "Sorry. I don't mean to condescend. Really. I didn't come here to be mean to you. I-I wanted to be…nice." She winced even more.
"You wanted getting dumped to feel nicer for me. Thanks. 'Preciate that."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm tryin' to say that I don't…like…hate you or something. I don't dislike you. This isn't about that. It's that I don't…"
"…Like me enough to want to date me anymore."
Lou was quiet. "You can like somebody and not feel the right connection. You shouldn't force yourself to stay in a whole romantic relationship thing with 'em if that special connection isn't there. That's all I'm saying. I thought we were both seeing it, but I guess not."
"No, I guess not," he said quietly, swallowing hard. His shoulders slumped. He wanted to melt into the sidewalk under his sneakers. And stay there forever. "I'm sorry I wasn't enough."
"It isn't that you aren't enough, Chuck. Come on. You aren't listening. You're enough. We just aren't right for each other. There's a girl out there somewhere who is right for you. She's gonna get it when you hafta receive shit through the night instead of taking her to dinner. She's gonna be able to be there for you in a way I haven't been. Because that deep connection will be there between you two in a way it wasn't…here."
Chuck nodded. "Yeah."
"Chuck, we just don't fit. We aren't working. You're gonna get it when you aren't, like, directly in this moment, feeling the emotional impact. I promise. It's gonna hit ya and you're gonna see that this is right. But I'm…sorry for how it feels right now."
"I know," he said, his voice still just barely above a whisper. "This sucks."
"Yeah. It always does. It's not exactly…peachy for me, either." She sighed, and then she reached out and squeezed his hand. "Be honest with me, cutie." She gave a cut tug on his hand. "When you see me, like when I show up with sandwiches for lunch or you hear a knock on your door and you open it to find me standing there in the hallway, do you feel a rush of adrenaline? Like something liquid hot is going through your veins? Like a buzzing in your head and chest? Like there's nowhere else you'd rather be than right there with me?"
Chuck didn't know how to answer that. And maybe it meant something that he hadn't immediately said an emphatic yes.
"I…guess I don't know."
"Yeah, that doesn't fill me with confidence, my guy," she giggled sadly. "I'm not saying this to make you feel like shit or anything, but honestly? I don't feel any of that here. I don't get excited like that around ya." She let go of his hand and tugged on his shirt. "And I don't think you feel it around me. That seems like something I'd be able to tell, ya know? If I was with a guy who felt all those fiery things around me." She shrugged as if there was nothing she could do about any of this, as if this was just how it was.
Chuck let out a rough breath. "I get what you're saying. Maybe you're right. Maybe it'll settle later. Only right now it feels…like shit."
"I'm sorry." She pointed back at the shop. "And hey, listen… Now you can go back to caring about the one thing you've always cared the most about: your silly superheroes." She giggled.
He knew she was trying to tease, a last teasing shot before she walked away, maybe to ease the tension, but there'd always been a tone to her teasing, almost like it wasn't teasing as much as she actually meant it.
"Well, they aren't silly to me, and I'm not alone in that," he said with a shrug, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets. "Comic books mean something to people."
Lou wrinkled her nose. "Okay."
"No, they really do! I'm serious."
"Look, I'm not trying to shit on your shop, Chuck. I know how hard you've worked for it and you've made it a real success, but…" She shrugged. "You aren't exactly changin' the world here." She giggled. He frowned. "Oh, come on. They're just pieces of paper with pictures on 'em."
"No, they're full-blown stories with characters and character arcs, life lessons and moral commentary. They show people what's possible, that they're capable of great things, whether they've got superpowers or not. And sometimes there's value in something just…being a great story with great art, even if it doesn't ask big important questions."
"I don't disagree with any of that. I don't want to argue with you over it. But comic books are just…comic books. It isn't…sustenance."
"What, like your sandwiches?"
"You do realize I run food banks for LA's homeless population, right? We've fed thousands of homeless people in just a few years with my food banks."
"That's amazing and you're a hero for that, but that doesn't mean what my shop does isn't also important. It's a different kind of important."
"What are you fixing by giving a homeless person a comic book, Chuck? You aren't filling their bellies, giving them warmth so that they can last the cold nights now that winter's rolling in." She cut her hand through the air dismissively. "I don't want to get into this with you, okay? It isn't changing anything. What you do with your shop is cool. Okay?"
But Chuck was still stuck on the way she'd just dismissed comic books as a trivial thing, pieces of paper with pictures on them. She didn't get that comic books had saved him when his parents disappeared, when every camera, every true crime podcaster and radio host and TV exec were staring at him and Ellie, waiting for one of them to burst so they could add it to their reports. And when Morgan's dad walked out on him and his mom, comics had saved him, too. She didn't understand that they opened doors, that they pulled your head out of the shit and dropped you into adventure so that you didn't sit there and let life drive you absolutely insane.
But she didn't read stuff. She didn't get into comic books, books, TV shows, any of that stuff. She just didn't get what good stories, superheroes, whole worlds of characters and plots and cool invisible jets and monsters could mean to a person who was drowning in sorrow and trauma. She did heroic things in the LA community and he'd respect her always for it.
None of this meant he was okay with being dumped. And it was only noon. He couldn't just go home and hide in his bed. He had to close the shop in six hours. He hadn't scheduled a closer. It was just him.
Fuck.
Lou patted him on the chest, gave him a wan smile, and moved onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He stooped low for her, feeling her lips grace his cheek. "Thanks for everything, Chuck. Take care, huh? I wish you all the luck."
Yeah.
All the luck. With his trivial comic books. And his lonely aloneness. Single and dumped.
"Thanks. You, too."
That was all he could muster.
Lou let go of him and walked away.
He didn't watch her go; he just kept his back to her. And he knew she didn't look back at him, either.
}o{
"You got history?"
Sarah felt herself smirking and she tried to bite it back. "Let me show you the section."
He would like history.
"You know, Casey, you don't have to buy books from me. You know that, right? I'm super grateful for the two month discount on the rent you're giving me." She led him to the history section and leaned one arm on top of the shelf, watching him as he started to comb through the shelves with his eyes.
"Yeah, well… the city dragged its dumb heels getting those sons of bitches with their clipboards out to approve everythin' was built to code or whatever red tape bullshit they gotta do every time one of my tenants sneezes practically. That wasn't your fault," he reasoned. "Figure you were put off having your business open, selling books, for way longer'n was necessary. I'm not gonna charge ya full rent 'til you can catch up."
"Well, that's incredibly big of you. And like I said, you really don't have to buy a book if…books aren't your thing."
John Casey, her landlord, sent her a half-offended snarl. "Who says I don't like books? You ever read James Joyce?" Sarah raised her eyebrows. "He was a fuggin' genius." He pointed at her. "Nobody has ever nailed death the way he did, not before 'im, not since."
"I apologize for making assumptions," she said sincerely, crossing her arms. "So you like Joyce, huh?"
"Yeah." He sent her a dubious look.
"Can I show you something?"
He curled his lip, even more dubious, but she saw more intrigue than anything. "What d'ya got?"
"C'mere." Sarah curled her finger, excited to see where this went. And she felt him following in her wake as she took him to fiction, grabbed one of Bolaño's books, and handed it to him. "Read the back of that, see if you're interested."
Casey glared at the cover, then turned it over. "Bowl-anno, huh?"
"Bolaño."
"S'what I said," he snapped. She bit the inside of her cheek from showing amusement, and he went back to reading about it. "This guy some kinda commie? I'm not reading commie propaganda."
She smirked, crossing her arms again. "He wasn't a communist, no. He did believe in socialism, and he got caught up in a lot of Chilean political strife in the twentieth century, but he wasn't like…a Chilean version of Che Guevarra or something. He was a writer, a poet, first and foremost."
"I don't want you thinkin' you can propaganda me into becoming some kind of weird millennial social justice warrior. I've lived through shit you'd never believe." He shook the book in the air between them.
"Read it," she said. "I'm not trying to propaganda you. It's just a book written incredibly well that handles really interesting concepts and I think it'll do something for you. Try it."
He growled. "I dunno if I should trust you."
"I'm new to this bookselling thing, yes, but I'm not new to reading books. If I steer you wrong, you can bring it back and I'll find you something else. How's that?"
She stuck her hand out, he eyed it, then gave her a wily grin and shook it.
"Deal. I'll try it."
Hell yes.
This just made her day.
Grinning, she led him back towards the counter, but she felt him stop behind her and she turned to eye him. He was staring out of the front windows at something, his eyes narrowed.
And then he let out an excited chuckle and rushed over to drop the book on the counter before hurrying to the window. "Oooohhh boy…"
"What?!"
She followed him, half-concerned. Only, he looked almost gleeful.
"What's that look like to you?"
Confused, she turned to cast her gaze out over the outdoor area in the quad of their shopping center.
Her eyes stopped on the two figures standing by one of the benches. And she knew immediately what she was looking at. His slumped shoulders, his downcast gaze, and the woman's wincing, entreating look on her face…
"Crap…" she breathed. "Is she breaking up with him?"
"The comic geek is getting dumped. Definitely." He let out a snicker, shaking his head. "I can't believe it's happening right in front of my eyes where I get to see it. This is so great."
"Hey," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "Holy shit, Casey, that's so mean. Have you never been dumped before?"
"Nope!" he chirped. "Never."
Yeah, because he was a real prize, this guy.
"Well, I have, and it sucks. A lot. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."
"That's a lie," Casey said. "You absolutely would. Anyway, he's a sap. It was bound to happen sooner or later. The kid has his head stuck in his comic books, there's no way this girl wasn't gonna dump him eventually. She's a catch."
Sarah watched it all unfold with a wince. He just looked…sad. And the sadness got deeper the more the woman in the leather jacket said to him. She couldn't help feeling bad for her, too.
Casey snickered again. "Oh ho ho ho ho ho… where do you think she dropped the 'it's not you, it's me' thing in there?"
"Can you stop getting so much joy out of this guy's really bad moment? It's messed up. What did he ever do to you to make you dislike him so much?"
He shrugged. "Nothin' really. Just rubs me the wrong way. He reads all those comic books and has this idea he's gotta be some kinda hero. And he's always runnin' after me like 'Mister Casey, Mister Casey!' telling me about some thing he did like makin' sure the dumpster lid's shut so raccoons don't get in 'em, kissin' my ass, gettin' in my bubble." He made an annoyed grunting sound.
Sarah laughed. "So what you're saying is he's helpful around the shopping center, wants you to know about it, and also he has a hero complex?"
"Yeah. It's easy to make fun of 'im."
"Mmmhm. I'm sure that's what all the mean bullies used to say when he was in high school, too."
He curled his lip. "You callin' me a bully?"
Should she go down this road? She'd known this man for less than half a year and he was easily one of the most volatile people she'd ever met. And he was her landlord, for God's sake. He could make her life a living hell.
Still, she muttered, "You're acting a little…bullyish. Laughing at him getting dumped. That sucks. I feel terrible for him!"
He crossed his arms, seemed to think for a moment, and then made a whining sound, gesturing. "But it's funny!"
Rolling her eyes, she turned and watched, feeling a little bad for watching even. The girl moved to kiss him on the cheek and walked away. Sarah winced at the fact that neither of them looked back. Maybe that was a good thing?
Maybe things just weren't good there and they both knew it but were playacting like they were? She'd been there before.
It was easy to pretend, harder to see the truth and act on that truth.
If he gave it some time, when the hurt faded a little, maybe the comic book shop owner would come to realize that, too.
"Come on," she said, unable to watch once the guy slump onto the bench and drop his head into his hands. "Get away from the window, stop laughing at him, and buy this book from me."
"Fiiiine."
He snickered one last time at the sad sight, and he followed her to the counter.
}o{
Chuck wedged himself between Morgan and the bin of vinyls with On Sale written haphazardly on a piece of paper taped to the front of it. "No. No! No no no."
"Get outta the way!"
"You do not get to fill my comic book shop with the sounds of Creed, bro. Scott Stapp's voice is ass."
They wrestled each other a little, laughing as they did.
"BOYS!" They stopped, turning to see Martha giving them a tired look, her arms crossed. "You can act like jackasses all you want, but just know, you damage even the shit that's on sale, I'm charging you double."
They exchanged a look, arms still entangled, and both winced, stepping away from one another.
"Fair," Chuck said, holding his hands up in surrender. "But Martha… Please be the voice of reason here. We're picking out the next music lineup for Ashcan and he keeps trying to force Creed into the conversation."
Martha gave The Beard a look, her chin rearing back so dramatically that the beads in her braids rattled against each other audibly. "Grimes! No. Nuh uh. Absolutely not."
"If they're so bad, why you selling 'em?" Morgan asked.
"I'm a businesswoman. When I get my hands on crap, I still sell the crap. Some fool whose clock broke during amateur hour and is stuck there permanently now will buy that, I promise you."
Chuck cackled, rocking forward. "Buddy, did your clock break during amateur hour?"
"Shut up," Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "Fine, no Creed."
"I just got somethin' in that I think you boys will like, though. I have a few of 'em so I'll let you have it free. Hold up." Martha hopped back to where she had her big sound system behind her counter. He noticed she'd switch it up between vinyl, CDs, tapes, and sometimes she'd blast stuff out of her iPhone or laptop, depending on her mood.
The music in the shop stopped, and then she slipped a CD out of its case and popped it into the player. Within moments, a loud brassy sound blasted through the shop.
Chuck pursed his lips and listened. It sounded a bit like the brassy music that followed around voluptuous women in cartoons from the twentieth century, and then it went full New Orleans brass band, voices fading in and out in the background.
"Dude. What is this?" Morgan asked in awe.
"A little funk 'n surf, some tejano in there, a dash of nasty brass, exploitation film soundtrack," Martha hummed, doing a chef's kiss. "They're new. Just saw their show in WeHo last week. They blasted folks right outta the place."
"Oh…" Chuck muttered, starting to bounce to the music. "Shit, that trombone is sick." He began to bang his head a little, wiggling his hips.
"Oh no. Oh no, it's happening," Morgan mumbled. "Martha, turn it off. Turn this music off before he gets worse."
"Uh oh. What's that?" Chuck began to roll his hands, wrists, elbows, and shoulders as though a wave of electricity was going through them. "What's happening? I dunnooooo…The rhythm is taking oooverrrrr…"
Martha cracked up, shaking her head.
"Nooooo!" Morgan wailed.
Chuck began full-on dancing then, scooting back and forth with his sneakers squeaking against the black and white tiled floors of MegaJamz. "These drums are nasty! I'm hearing some ska in there, too. Is that ska?"
"They have a ska sound here and there, yeah," the shop owner agreed, still clearly amused by Chuck's antics. "I dunno. I played it for my kid and he started skanking, so…you might be onto something."
"Any band with a tuba, I'm onboard. This has to happen in Ashcan, Chuck. Dude. The tuba."
"I think it's technically a sousaphone, but it's in the fam," Martha said, handing over one of the demos. "But if I give you that for free, you better buy shit, too."
Chuck put his hand against his chest, affronted. "Martha. Marth. MarthDaul. Please. We always purchase."
"Yeah, MarthDaul."
"You guys are idiots."
Moving away from the sales rack, Chuck began thumbing through some Harry Belafonte, grabbing a live album in vinyl format. He needed that for sure. Still bouncing on his heels to the radical band Martha had just introduced them to, he hopped to the rack behind him, spinning and shutting his eyes, using his fingers to blindly pick something, and pulling it up.
He winced and slowly lowered it back into place. Maybe he'd use his one skip and try that again. He'd buy the next one he blindly pulled. Yeah…
"This song sounds like it should be the intro theme song for a Hanna-Barbera cartoon," he said as Morgan popped up on the other side of the rack.
"Mhm. Did I just see you pick Milli Vanilli?"
"…No."
He shut his eyes and pulled another one, wiggling his butt as the next song started, the rubber soles of his shoes tapping on the tiles. He tucked the Joy Division vinyl under his armpit. That was much better.
The music really started to get to him, but he also wanted to embarrass Morgan a little bit more in front of the older woman he knew his best friend had a harmless crush on. (He understood the crush; Martha was easily one of the coolest people he'd ever met, but she was very married and very much a mom.) So he started dancing again, tugging a few old Cab Calloway vinyls out, tucking them under his armpit snuggly.
He was so into the brass band sound that he didn't hear the bell of the shop door jingle.
Chuck was in the midst of grabbing a CD collection of nineteen-fifties sci-fi film scores when he heard Martha talking to someone, the music turning down a little. He turned to look. Oh nice, the new bookstore owner.
He did a double take, spinning to really look and nearly dropping his entire purchase load. He just barely scrambled not to drop anything, wondering if it was too late to hide.
But he couldn't hide.
It was too late to hide. Because not only had she caught sight of him from across the room, he had a distinct feeling she'd seen him acting like an entire fool to this music.
The corner of her mouth lifted in amusement and she turned back to Martha. "Hey. Sorry to barge in, um… I-I just opened the bookstore a few weeks ago, the one across the quad…"
"Oh, yeah!" Martha took one of the flyers the bookstore owner passed her. "Castle in the Sky, right?"
"Um, Air. Castle in the Air."
"Castle in the Air, that's right. Sorry. It says it right there on the flyer." The record store owner thunked herself on the head. "That's my favorite Miyazaki, Castle in the Sky. That's why I got mixed up."
"Really?" Morgan piped up. "That's your favorite? When Princess Mononoke is right there?!"
Chuck had inched closer, watching Sarah glance back and forth between them, her flyers still clutched to her chest, clearly still having not made the point she'd meant to make when she came into MegaJamz.
"Castle in the Sky has something Princess Mononoke doesn't have…" Martha started.
Chuck knew where she was going and he chimed in with her: "Sky pirates!"
Now at the counter, he thumped his giant pile he meant to purchase onto the counter in order to free his hands and give her a high five.
He turned to glance at the bookstore owner, thrusting his hand out towards her. "Mind if I get one of these flyers, too?"
"Sure. I mean, no I don't mind." She gave him one. "I don't know if that's something you can put up in your stores like on the window or…" she said tentatively then, glancing at Martha, too. "Just so people know there's a bookstore in the shopping center."
"Hey, nah, of course!" Martha flapped the flyer. "I'll tell my customers, too. I'll stop in sometime. My kid loves that Eragon series, really any of that dragon stuff is his shit."
Sarah nodded. "I haven't really built up the section for young people. Um, it isn't one of my strengths, but I'll get stuff in about dragons for him."
"That's sweet. Thanks…"
"Sarah. I'm Sarah Walker."
"Martha Mudenda."
They shook hands.
"This record store's yours?" Sarah asked.
"Sure is."
"It's awesome. Love the vibe."
Chuck couldn't help inserting himself in the conversation. "Martha's got pristine music taste, but the best part is that her store covers everybody's tastes."
"How else am I s'posed to stay open?" Martha laughed. "Gotta rep everybody. This guy knows how it is. You even gotta carry the stuff you think is shit."
"True," Chuck agreed. He took out his wallet as Martha began to do the math on the vinyls and CDs he'd piled up. He realized belatedly that Sarah's very blue eyes dropped to look at his wallet and that wallet had the Superman symbol printed onto it, all huge and ridiculous.
He tugged a grip of twenties out and shoved the wallet back into his pocket quickly, clearing his throat.
"Um, Sarah's store opened right next to mine. If you're looking for it in the center."
"I'm glad. We need some culture in here. I owe you a visit, Sarah," Martha said, taking the grip of twenties from Chuck.
An idea struck him then, and he turned to look almost a little frantically around MegaJamz. He hurried away as they continued to talk, finding what he was looking for, so glad he'd been in here hundreds of times before and knew where it'd be almost inherently.
He came back and added it to his pile, earning a slight eye roll from Martha. But then she saw what it was and gave him a wily look for it, her eyes flicking over to Sarah again.
"Please come see the bookstore. You don't have to buy anything," she added quickly. "And thanks for putting up my flyers and spreading the word."
"Hey. We all gotta stick together out here."
He would be lying if he didn't admit at least to himself, silently, within the confines of his own head, that Sarah Walker the bookstore owner had a very nice smile. And it made those…very blue eyes he'd noticed before sort of sparkle, which was…also nice.
"…Chuck!"
The comic book shop owner spun to regard the record store owner. "Yes?"
"Your change?"
There was a knowing look on Martha's face, her dark brown eyes shimmering with something he didn't understand.
"Thank you. Yes. Appreciate you, Martha." He took it, just shoving it in his pocket, not wanting to take that particular wallet out at this…particular moment. In front of this particular girl.
"It was nice to meet you, Martha," Sarah said then, sliding her hand closer to the other woman on the countertop, giving her a toothy smile. "Hope to see you again soon."
"You too, hon." Martha smiled back.
Then Sarah turned to look at him, her smile a little more subdued, almost searching, amused again. "Chuck…"
"Sarah…" he mumbled back with a nod and a half-wave. "Good to…see you," he breathed as she made her way towards the exit.
She smiled over her shoulder. "Yeah, you too."
Chuck waited a beat as she cleared the threshold of the door and disappeared into the sunlight outside…and then he pounced, snatching up his haul. "Thanks, Martha! Love you!"
He dashed after the bookstore owner, staggering out of the record store, spotting her a few feet ahead. Instead of heading back to her store, it looked like she was making the rounds with the other tenants in the shopping center.
"Sarah! Hey…"
She stopped, raising her eyebrows as she turned to face him again with a polite smile.
"Hi. Hey," he panted. "How're things? How's the bookstore doin'?"
"It's…a little better. Thanks for asking." She paused, a look he couldn't identify on her face. "And…you? How are you?"
His girlfriend had just dumped him about three days ago and when he remembered that it felt like someone was doing a Stomp routine on his chest while wearing stilettos. But that wasn't anything she was interested in hearing.
"Oh. Yeah. Okay. Fine. Good."
Her smile was almost sad, her gaze a little probing. He didn't get what that was.
"Um, here." He grabbed the vinyl at the top of his pile and thrusted it towards her. She merely looked at him, arching one eyebrow. "An offering. Neighbor to neighbor. I think you might enjoy it."
She wrapped her fingers around it, looking down at it, smiling. "Kate Bush? She seems…interesting."
"She's a genius. One of the most genius musicians and songwriters of all time, in my book. But, um, speaking of books, that's the one with 'Wuthering Heights' on it."
"'Wuthering Heights'? Like, as in the Brontë novel?" She seemed surprised by that.
"Yeah. The song is based off of the book."
"Huh…" She looked down at it again, her brow furrowed. "Well, this-this is sweet of you, Chuck, but I don't have anything to play records on. No record player or anything."
She gave it back to him.
He took it.
Slowly.
"You don't? Oh. Okay, that's—I get that. Of course. Not many people have 'em. Well, we've got one right next door, at Ashcan. So if you ever want to, um, use it…"
"Thanks, Chuck. But you know, I'm not a huge music listener or anything."
He fought to keep a what the fuck look from his face.
That was rude. She didn't know what she didn't know.
"See you around, though."
With one more smile, she walked to the next shop over, leaving him standing there feeling like he maybe ruined that conversation.
Then Morgan was at his elbow. "Man. Rejected a second time but this time by a different woman. Harsh."
"I'm gonna fucking kill you, Morgan," he grumbled, turning on his heel and heading towards his car to pop the trunk.
}o{
Sarah waited for the click of the door shutting and rushed out from behind her counter, heading into the back room where there was a folding table and chairs leaned against the wall, still not set up because she tended to eat sitting at the front counter, considering there really was no chance for an honest to goodness break when she was the owner and only employee of Castle in the Air Books.
This would be the break room if she ever had employees. She even had a nice fridge and microwave, there was a sink, and beyond those was a private bathroom for employees only. Well…employee, singular.
She had a little "BE BACK SOON!" sign she hung on the door if she had to use it. It tended not to be a problem.
But she was famished. It was nearing one and she hadn't had a proper breakfast. The hangry was starting to set in as this last customer made her work extremely hard for a sale. She would hand her something that had literally every single thing she asked for, she'd turn it over, read the back, and do a dismissive, "No, I don't think so." Sarah must have shown her seven books with the same response. She was losing hope when the woman grabbed one of those actress-approved Book Club picks off of the shelf and finally purchased it.
Sarah tried so hard not to be a snot, even in her head, about the fact that the woman clearly didn't want recommendations, even though she made the bookseller jump through hoops for her. She just wanted whatever the next popular book was.
The hangry building in her gut wasn't helping her patience with this freaking lady.
But now she was gone and Sarah was rummaging in her lunch bag even as she came back out to the front. She hadn't heard the bell, but she still looked around to make sure she was alone, but as she pulled out the chicken club she'd bought from the grocery store deli before coming into work this morning, she glanced out through the front windows of her store and paused.
It had been two days since their run-in at that record store on the other side of the park area, when she'd walked in to talk to the worker at the desk and instead caught sight of Chuck the comic book shop owner literally shaking his ass to some sort of cartoonish brass band sounding music with a huge pile of records under one arm and CDs clutched in his free hand.
It had been…unexpected, to say the least.
She thought about asking him if he was okay, but she wasn't sure he'd take the teasing very well, considering she imagined he still had a bug up his butt about the fact that she was renting the spot he'd wanted to expand into.
But honestly, why in the hell would a comic shop need double the large space he already had? She'd peeked in at it one day when she saw him get into his car and drive away. She really was curious but she hadn't wanted to get caught peeking.
Maybe it was childish. But he'd started it.
…Yeah, she was being childish.
So sue her.
To see him having so much fun, not knowing anyone was watching him, sort of humanized him in a way he hadn't really done for himself in the couple of months since she signed the lease on this storefront. He was…standoffish. Friendly, but clearly avoiding her.
And a few weeks ago, his sister just walked right in, bought a thousand freaking books, gushed about books, seemed almost relieved to be walking out with books, and was the sweetest, most open, warmest person she thought she'd ever met.
Perhaps first impressions had been rough and weren't an accurate representation of him?
It didn't matter, because he was walking out to the bench where she'd seen him get dumped as their landlord stood next to her at the window and laughed at his misfortune. The jerk.
He wouldn't be sitting there with the pretty girl who produced delicious-looking sandwiches out of a bag. Not this time.
Instead, he was alone, taking a fast food burger out of a bag, along with some fries.
And Sarah grabbed her break sign, hurrying to the door, locking it, slipping the BE BACK SOON! sign into place on the glass door, and hurrying through the back to the door, stuffing her key in her pocket after locking it behind her. What in the hell was she doing?
She didn't freaking know. She felt crazy.
If he wanted to avoid her, if he wanted to act like she'd done something horrible to him personally on purpose, just to be a thorn in his side, kill his dreams, let him. She had bigger fish to fry.
But maybe there was also something in him that she felt like she was missing, and she wanted to know what it was. Whatever it was in him that made him dance like that.
Or maybe the way he'd followed after her out onto the sidewalk and tried to give her a vinyl of that Kate Bush singer who did a song about "Wuthering Heights". She regretted not accepting it, even if it was true she had no way to listen to it. He'd done something kind, maybe it was even a peace offering, a Let Bygones Be Bygones gesture. And she'd pushed it back in his face.
I'm not a huge music listener or anything.
That was a terrible sentence, but it was also ungrateful and a brush-off. She hadn't meant it to be, it was just the truth. But when she got back to her store after making the rounds twenty minutes later, she felt like such an ass.
The more she dwelled on it, the more she thought he'd gone all the way back to grab that particular record and bought it, like he'd done it just for her. He'd found something a little…bookish…for her.
She hurried her step down the side alley between her bookstore and the plant shop, crossing the sidewalk and heading straight for the man at the bench.
He'd taken his first giant bite out of his lunch as his brown eyes lifted to watch her approach.
He stopped chewing, the food pooching in his cheek a bit cartoonishly, his eyes wide.
"Hi," she greeted, not really sure why she was feeling something akin to shyness as she neared the other side of the picnic bench.
He made a startled little sound, quickly chewing, gulping down the food that was in his mouth, and blurting, "Hey! Hi. Hi there." He grabbed a napkin from his bag and wiped his mouth, almost as an afterthought, as if covering his bases. The wide-eyed look was still there even as he gave her a crooked smile.
"I know this probably seems random, but do you think you'd mind it if I joined you?" she asked tentatively, reaching out to hover her bag over the table.
"No!" he said immediately, gesturing to the other side of the bench. "Please. Sit. Of course I don't mind."
Sarah smiled at him, putting her bag on the table and gracefully climbing down to sit across from him. "Thank you. I, um, I usually take my lunch at the front counter and work through eating."
"What?" He furrowed his brow. "That's no break." And then he glanced at her store and shook his head. "Oh, right. You don't have employees. You really can't take a real break if people are in your shop browsing, huh?"
"Not unless I kick 'em out," she chuckled. He smiled around the fry he was chewing. "And that's not something I should be doing right now. I can use every cent I can get."
"What about this? Coming out here…who's minding the store?"
"Nobody." She snorted. "I locked the door and put a sign on it. Anyway, I can see if people come by from here and I can get up and sprint over to let them in. I just really…" She saw him coming out here to eat lunch by himself and felt like she wanted to be out here, too. With him. That was the truth. "I needed a change of scenery." Well, that wasn't exactly a lie.
"Ah. For the record, I totally understand and I don't blame ya. I've learned running my shop that sometimes the best thing to do is just give my brain space from that, come out here, take in the grass and the sky and clouds, and…I dunno, breathe." He shrugged, taking another bite of his burger as she pulled her own sandwich out.
"That's good advice."
"Oh, I'm full of good advice. If you ever need really fantastic business advice from an exceptional business guy, I'm your guy. The guy. The small business owner super wise good business advice guy."
She knew he was being self-deprecating, teasing, especially with the way he straightened his spine, pursed his lips, and raised an eyebrow haughtily. She giggled. "Oh. Wow, thank you. I could use a business guy who knows everything about business."
"Mmm, yes. 401K and such."
That made Sarah crack up. She took a bite out of her sandwich and shook her head. "Honestly, I feel like anybody with a small business is flying by the seat of their pants in this friggin' market."
"True!" he exclaimed, pointing at her. He looked for a moment like he maybe wanted to say something else, but he kept quiet, sipping water out of his metal reusable bottle. But instead, as she flattened her bag and used it as a bit of a plate for her sandwich and sliced apple, he smiled a little at her presentation and mumbled, "For a second, I thought you might pull a Capri-Sun out of that bag too."
"Shut up," she giggled. "This is saving me money. You can buy these sandwiches all wrapped up for, like, two-fifty at the deli counter in the grocery store a block away from my apartment. How much did you spend buying that burger?"
"Like, seven bucks. Worth iiiiit, because it's delicioooouuus," he sang, eating two more fries and chuckling as he chewed.
She smirked, rolling her eyes at him. "Rub it in, comic book guy."
"Yeah, well…" He took another bite and she waited patiently for him to chew and swallow again before he continued, squinting out over the parking lot. "I felt like treating myself a little. I guess."
There was something almost sad in his face then as he took another drink of water and set his bottle down, ducking his head and staring at his food.
"Good. Maybe I'll get to a point where I can afford to treat myself." She scoffed.
"Hey, now. None of that self-pitying stuff." Sarah sent the guy a bit of a surprised look. She hadn't been expecting that. He leaned in. "First few months are kind of—okay, not kind of—they're the fucking worst." She laughed lightly, nodding. "Right? Shit, getting that place open was so terrible. I was super lucky in a lot of ways, I was able to take a couple lickings and keep ticking. But then it opened and people were like 'pffft, who wants to buy an actual comic book anymore?' Cadabra exists, you can get 'em all digitally for way cheaper and you don't have to leave your home. You can stay in your bed in your PJs and get access to whatever digital comic you want. Why the hell you opening a comic book shop? Meerrr."
Sarah watched him closely, even as she bit down on an apple wedge with a crisp crunch. "You love 'em."
"Comics?" She nodded. He smiled hard. "Yeah. I do. But I was thinkin' maybe people were right. Nobody was comin' in, it was just me an' Morgan. You know? I sank into this self-pity pit. Woe is me, my dream is dying." Well, she felt super called out by that one. "Just don't let go of it. Give yourself a shot."
She pursed her lips, not taking her eyes off of him for a long moment. He even started squirming a little, apparently uncomfortable by her unblinking attention. And finally: "You're right. And please. Pffft. It takes more than a couple bad sales weeks to make me give this dream of mine up."
"Hell yeah." He reached over the table for a high five and she smirked, slapping his hand. "You feel low right now, but that doesn't mean it isn't gonna change." He had that downcast look on his face again.
She couldn't help it. "Hey, um…you okay?"
Chuck lifted his chin, eyes widening in question. "Oh yeah, business is fine. It kinda rollercoasters, but we're doing good generally."
"Not-Not the…shop." Sarah inwardly winced. "I have to be honest with you." He leaned in a bit, a dubious look in his face. "The other day, I was minding my business in my shop…" She hadn't started that in the best way. "I looked out the window and I saw you out here with…um, I think your girlfriend…?" His face went blank then, his brow eyes diverting to the side. "Did I see what I thought I was seeing?"
"Me getting dumped on my ass? Yeah, that's what you saw." He looked deeply embarrassed then, setting the last quarter of his burger down, wiping his hands on his napkin, and staring down at his lap.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… Ugh, I brought it up while you're just trying to enjoy your lunch. I apologize for sticking my foot in my mouth. I just know…that feels…um…"
"Shitty?"
"Yeah." She shrugged one shoulder, pressing her lips together in a thin line. She wished she'd kept her mouth shut. "That was what I meant when I asked if you were okay. But I shouldn't have…done that. Maybe."
Chuck finally lifted his gaze to her face. An almost crooked little smile tilted at his mouth, his brown eyes soft.
"If you're expecting this to be like the movies where I suddenly, like, burst open, the floodgates…flooding…" He made a face, one eye narrowing, lips pursing. She bit her cheek to keep from giggling. "…and I end up sobbing in your arms, which leads to some sort of groundbreaking…breakthrough. No, I heard it," he rushed on, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at himself. "Groundbreaking breakthrough is super repetitive but I'd already gone too deep into it not to get to the end. But that's not gonna be what happens here."
This time, she did giggle. "Okay, I…wasn't expecting that. So I guess that's good?"
"That's a good first step," he said, and she felt warmth in it. She smiled at him. "I was already embarrassed enough it happened, but I'm especially embarrassed that you saw it happen. That's…oof." He was blushing as he finished his burger, chewing almost studiously.
"Don't be embarrassed on my account. My question remains: are you okay?"
"Thank you for asking. I…will be okay. Life goes on, obla-di-obla-da…and all that. I'm trying to be a grown-up and accept what she said is right. We just weren't…for one another. We didn't go together as well as I might've persuaded myself we did."
"Because it's easy?" she asked. He sent her a surprised look. "I went through one of those before. You're both better off."
"Yeeeah, I know."
"And it probably gets old hearing people say that."
"It was old when she said it," he admitted. And Sarah appreciated his honesty. Weirdly enough, she didn't feel like he was reprimanding her, either.
"I'm sorry. That sucks."
"It does."
"It'll stop sucking."
"Hm." He sent her a steady look. "So will owning a small business. I promise."
That made her laugh. And she jauntily tossed her bag of sliced apples into the middle of the table. "Want some?"
"Really?"
"Look, I didn't want to take that vinyl in bad faith, knowing I wouldn't be able to listen to it, considering I don't have a record player. But I know for a fact, you have the necessary elements to enjoy this apple I'm offering you."
This time he laughed, reaching into the bag to take a slice. "You're too kind. I'll try it, sure." He took a bite, speaking around the juicy apple. "Delicious. Thanks." She nodded, smiling. "And don't think you're off the hook, either. I'll get you to listen to Kate Bush yet. Just you wait."
"I'm not against it. I just don't really…" She sighed. "It's never been a priority."
"Go see Martha again. Tell her that. She will change your life, I promise." She sent him a dubious look. "I swear. She's the best. She knows everything. She's got a side job as a DJ, too. She's so tight."
"I don't know if I want to go up to a DJ slash record shop owner and tell her music hasn't been a priority for me." She wrinkled her nose cutely, finishing her sandwich.
"She's not like that."
"Like what?"
"A snob. You won't get judgment from her. Hell, she'll be excited." He shrugged. "Like any salesperson who loves what they're selling, she loves a challenge." He poked himself in the chest with the last fry from the bag before popping it in his mouth and chewing. "Me? I love it when people refuse to read comic books. I deem it my life's calling to get them to pick up a comic book and like it. The right comic book for them. The comic that'll open the door."
She made a doubtful face, emitting a hum to go along with it. "Comic books? Nah. Anyway, doesn't everyone technically refuse to read comic books, since you really can't read them, because they're just pictures."
"Whoa, whoa!" He held up both hands, his brow furrowed. "There are words in there, too."
"Yeah. Uh huh. Pow! Boom! Bang! Slap!" she exclaimed, swiping her hand through the air like she was backslapping someone.
He let out a cute, bubbly giggle, glee in his face. "You're so wrong, I can't even handle it. There are words in comic books. Not jus the bangs and pows. Shows you've never actually picked one up."
"Uhhhh, correct. I have not. I will not."
"Wow. Rude. Anyway, pictures can tell stories, too."
She pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose. "There's a reason why mankind has evolved past using hieroglyphs."
"Oooohhh ho hoooo!" He brought his fist to his mouth with an "Oooooo!" and cracked up. "Dammmmnnn. I cannot tell a lie, that was spicy and I'm not even mad right now."
Sarah withheld the urge to laugh and instead merely raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, shrugging one shoulder smugly. "Outdo that one."
"Dunno if I can, but I'm gonna try. Books have too many words. So many words."
"Wow. Good one," she droned.
"Shit, yeah. I need to think about it."
"You do that." She smirked, climbing up from the table and tossing her trash, folding up the paper sack neatly so that she could reuse it again. "I've got a bookstore to run, shelves to dust, but thanks for letting me sit with you."
"Anytime. Books are heavy. They're too heavy." She sent him a pitiful look and he nodded. "Hmm, I need to think some more. Does this mean we're fighting again?"
She narrowed her eyes as she backed towards their storefronts, away from him. "We were fighting?"
"No. But we are now, dag nabbit." He shook his fist at her.
Grinning mischievously at him, she turned on her heel, walking towards her store, and then she looked at him over her shoulder. "I wouldn't get into a fight with me if I were you."
She didn't look back as she headed for her bookstore, a grin on her face, and she missed the way he pursed his lips in a low whistle, shaking his head after her.
A/N: Hehehehehehehe. They really can't help themselves in any universe, can they?
Also sign me up to be best friends with Martha. Please please.
And please leave a review if you're able. Thank you!
-SC