Welcome to Gaia! ::

Jon was still on the phone when the taxi rolled to a halt in front of Cobblestone Terrace. It hadn't taken long for the company to send his ride; he was grateful. The less time time it took, the less he had to dwell on the Great Miscommunication Debacle that just took place. He gave a humorless, bark of a laugh. Honestly, what the hell just happened? He picked up his briefcase and tossed it into the backseat.

"Kingston Bookstore," he said, climbing in after it. He leaned his head against the window, "Yeah, still here. Right. Yeah-- one of your guys just towed a heap of purple scrap metal from in front of the Cobblestone Terrace. Yeah. How mu-- hell no, it isn't mine."

The cab driver peered at Jon through the rear view. Jon waved a hand, "Look, yes, I understand, but I'll pay twice the impound fee, hell, the ticket too if you just deliver it for me...."

Jon was a d**k all the time, but only a b*****d half the time. His dad had taught him a thing or two about common courtesy while the Cotones had taught him a thing or two (or three or four...) about bribery. It took some arguing, even a thinly veiled threat, but when Gratis Towing finally consented to his request, he fell back against the seat with a heavy sigh. He may not have felt triumphant, but at least that was one less thing off of his conscious.

He slid down and laid his head against the cushioned rest. This was only a band aid on a gaping wound, it seemed. Jon may have been tactless at times, but he had never gone home and vented to a complete stranger. Hell, he never vented at all. The entire ordeal had left a bad taste in Jon's mouth, like Reed had taken off with something of his that he had given willingly and he wasn't going to be getting it back.

Jon groaned and rubbed his face.

The Kingston Bookstore went beyond surpassing expectation. Stepping through one of many sets of heavy, oak and iron double doors was like stepping into the city library Jon had long since left behind. No block in New Selby would even consider dedicating a block (or two, by the looks of it) to a bookstore. The mayor himself – a man he knew quite well! – had once told him books were a dying breed; no one reads anymore. Sure, there’s a popular novelist or two, but people never look at the in-betweens. No one cares enough to.

Apparently, this was just not so for Augustine.

The cool air of the bookstore did much to assuage his tension, and the familiar smell of coffee brewing with its underlying scent of fresh paper, glue and ink was a calm he did not often attain. Jon clenched the neck of his briefcase handle, listening to the creak of leather as he scanned the floor of Kingston. Two stories of nothing but books—and while the second floor was most certainly the place Vardaman’s work would be found, Jon knew that was not the place he wanted the author to sit. He looked over the low, dark bookshelves, gaze momentarily settling on the café.

Close to the café, not close enough to cause too much foot traffic….

“Mister Jon Gudleif?”

It took the feline a moment to haul himself out of the slag of his mind to respond to the voice that addressed him. A pretty blonde in glasses flashed him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He shook her outstretched hand with mechanical courtesy.

“Mr. Kingston isn’t here himself, but I’m the manager of this store—“

“Ms. Munsier?”

“Yes, a pleasure.” That stiff smile again, “You must have had a long night unpacking, let’s get this meeting finalized and you can be on your way.”
Jon laughed, gaze moving across the expansive bookstore again. A charming smile reserved for moments like these curved his lips, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me. But, you’re right—long night indeed.”

Moments, exchanged words, images of red hair and bare skin flicked through his thoughts like the rifled pages of a book and his composure faltered, color rising into the shell of his ears. Jon cleared his throat. Ms. Munsier did not seem to notice, turning on a heel to initiate their meeting.

“I was thinking the second floor would be a good place for Mr. Vardaman’s signing….”

“Oh?” he intoned, strides placing him at her side. They walked down the main aisle. This was exactly what he didn’t want. Time to haggle.

“Actually, we would much prefer he’d be placed downstairs, within view of the doors. Café will be a draw as well, here I have a copy of the plans….”


It had taken some convincing – Ms. Munsier had proved to be a stubborn young broad – but not much time to finalize the new release and signing details. Jon let out a breath of relief as he parted ways from the steely-eyed blonde, rubbing his own eyes as he beelined towards the café. Now that it was over, he felt lax, but not the ‘better’ he had been expecting. There was a knot just south of his navel, distant, but heavy. His ears had a permanent back-tilt, a cross between exasperation and confusion.

Maybe he just needed a coffee. He dug out his phone, looked at it; nothing but the time flashed back up at him. He had to wonder why he was suddenly disappointed.

It wasn’t like he was waiting for something.

It wasn’t everyday that the Kingston Bookstore was temporarily closed for visitors, but that day it had been closed for several hours in order to accommodate someone important, Shalisa was sure, and so she had spent half of her morning trying to figure out who that someone was (with no luck, mind you!). Ms. Munsier never told the staff anything. She wasn’t entitled to, applications stated so at the bottom in fine print! but the simian liked to be in the know. Not necessarily because she was nosy (maybe a little), but her fake work permit burned holes in the back of her mind every time Munsier closed shop.

Shalisa picked anxiously at her nails, craning her blaze-orange head towards the front doors to catch a glimpse of silver and blonde just before the manager reopened the bookstore. A steady group of people, mostly art students, had loitered outside of the doors, anxious to be let inside, and soon the blonde and silver she had caught sight of disappeared among the crowd that filtered in like the coffee that was percolating on the pot behind her.

“Gosh darn, I wish she’d tell us somethin’!” she grumped, slapping the shiny, black granite counters with both hands. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Shalisa ducked behind the stainless steel brewing systems, punching The New Kid in the shoulder in what was a miserable show of playfulness; she really just wanted to punch something. What if that silver haired guy had been some underling of Mr. Kingston doing background checks?

“They taught you register, right Daisy Pop?” she flicked a strand of that white, white hair, ignoring the nametag that, in plain, capital letters spelt out ‘ARJUN.’ There was a big, bubble giraffe sticker in place of the ‘SHA’ on hers. “’Cause you’re gonna work that today before you get to learn the coffee. You know numbers, yeah? You know numbers. S'like a giant calculator with a cash pocket. All right!”

Shalisa peered over the black, plastic caps on the brewers. Wow, their first customer looked like he needed more than just coffee. She wondered if she could patent a caffeine IV drip….

“Look alive!”

Shalisa crushed coffee beans with a joy that would make most coffee beans tremble in their bean-y husks, “That’s what my ma says!”

Jon stared at Arjun across the counter, eyes flicking up to the menu board in search of one order of bullet-to-the-brain. Alas, nothing. With a sigh, he played dumb - which, that morning, was coming QUITE easily! - allowing himself the fantasy of not recognizing the flower-headed boy (Arjun?). It was like being served by Satan’s little footstool. Was he even old enough to work here? Grateful for the customer-is-always-right motto, the feline took his time deciding.

In the meantime, Shalisa had poked her head next to Arjun to nab a peek of the customer, beaming the kind of 100-watt smile her coworkers swore stole their life-force to power. He would have been so much easier on the eyes if he didn’t look so worn out! His eyes dropped, catching her stare:

“Our breakfast blend is pretty good!” she quipped the moment she met his eyes. Goodness! did he look familiar. She perused the library back-flaps from the books she had read in her mind, the magazines she read constantly.

“I’m sure it is,” he said with a tired smile, checking his watch. “But it’s not quite breakfast anymore.”

Her mouth formed a sudden ‘o,’ and she smacked Arjun in the shoulder with a smile, “Why didn’t you tell me it wasn’t breakfast anymore, Daisy Pop?”

Jon’s ears twitched, smile becoming a smirk of amusement as --alisa? disappeared again behind the tall brewers.

“I think I’ll have a tall, black Sumatra, extra bold,” he said, fishing in his back pocket for his wallet. Shalisa took that moment to enthusiastically (read: loudly) grind coffee beans, pretending she hadn’t heard the order so she could receive the order.

"Good, 'cause my pockets aren't big enough for the both of us!" Shalisa swung around, catching the order and plucking a paper cup from their line of dispensers. She pulled a sharpie from somewhere beyond the pouf of her hair, scribbling the order on the cup. There were usually at least three people manning the coffee corner, but Will had decided it just wasn't worth his time today and had called in sick. Why Gisela wasn't clamoring to take his place behind the counter was beyond her, after all - Shalisa adjusted the filter and poured grounds, setting the coffee to brew - she had only been making eyes at New Kid all morning.

Shalisa gave a sudden laugh.

Jon wordlessly handed his card over, turning slightly to scan the bookstore. He was grateful that simian girl was making the drink and not Arjun; something in those eyes told him he'd sooner have a spoonful of crushed glass sweetening his coffee than he would sugar. His fingers played across the long strap of his briefcase, unknowingly tapping out the low tune playing from the speakers in the cafe. He made a mental note to call Alex that night, half wondering if his friend would even remember calling him.

"You know," Shalisa began loudly, the belly of the coffee decanter clattering against the counter. "We sell coffee in bulk! Betcha never heard of a coffee clutch, huh, Daddy Warbucks?"

She fished out a plastic cap and stamped it onto the cup, slipping a heat sleeve over it, "It's like a dispensable thermos, holds about three or four cups of liquid awesome in it."

"And I'd probably look like a real jackass carrying it around."

Shalisa's laugh was just as loud as her voice, "Probably! But who knows, you could start a cardboard revolution! All'a ya!" She pointed at the small line forming behind Jon, "Done ringin' him up, Little April Shower?"

If only Arjun knew how much Shalisa loved Captain Crunch!

Jon cracked a grin, amused by Arjun's discomfort. Serves him right, he thought with some level of vicarious triumph as he pocketed his wallet again. He reached across the high, circular pick-up counter and grabbed his coffee, saluting the two employees with the butt of the paper cup as he turned to head out.

"Have fun, kids."

Shalisa bounced on the balls of her feet, waving animatedly after him, "June-bug's got jokes!"

Humming along with The Decemberists over the speakers, Shalisa fell into a more focused quiet as she began to really work - though she greeted customers from behind the brewers with a wild wave every now and again. She couldn't count how many times she had been reprimanded for holding conversations behind the counter. But, she had pointed out, finger up for emphasis, I still do my work, don't I? The complaints had stopped after that.

Several indie tracks later and the first wave of people had thinned, voices buzzing contentedly from the seating area. Ah, the sweet sounds of sated caffeine beasts. It was like music to her ears.

"Let's go to the park, I wanna kiss you underneath the starsss~~" she sang against A Fine Frenzy's Liar, Liar. She stuck her fingers into the paper cup dispenser, trying to unjam it. Her tail suddenly flickered like a match-flame.

"Ohmygosh! I know now!" Spinning on Arjun, she pointed at him like he would actually care about her discovery, "June-bug! He's one of Blaine Vardaman's guys! Um... goshgoshgosh! he was in um..."

She waved her hands out, snap-snap-snap!, biting her lower lip in frenzied thought, "In a picture! In Writer's Monthly! There was an article about the team that works on Vardaman's stuff. I bet he's coming here!"

Shalisa almost pointed out that she hadn't, not yet! but she didn't want him to know that she was actually submitting to the magazine. She spaced out when Arjun began to complain, chewing on her thumb nail, buried in thought. She had been working on some sci-fi pieces lately, but according to the editors, they desperately needed to 'work out some kinks.' What Arjun said was partly true; Writer's Monthly wasn't as esteemed as Teller's or Quill and Ink, but she had once heard if you could at least get in....

"Vanessa really likes you, that's why-- and I think Murray likes Vanessa. Or maybe he likes you or somethin'. Gisela likes you too, for that matter. You covered in pheromones, Daisy? Got everyone twitterpated! And I got in trouble for reading in some of the new shipments before they were shelved, so I'm stuck here. With you." Shalisa wasn't about to complain... well, yes she was: "I'd much rather work with Will, but he's always skipping out. Probably to smoke ganjaha! finally!"

The cups settled in the dispenser. Shalisa popped her raw fingers into her mouth only to bite down on them when pinned by Arjun's question.

"Test outta what? My mom's dead!" she laughed, trying to evade his question.

"I didn't pay anyone off," Shalisa said, voice unyielding. She felt the bottom of her stomach drop away. She knew she didn't look eighteen and she hardly acted the part, but her coworkers had never once called her out on it. Even her father thought she had gotten lucky, landing the job she had (if he only knew her hours!). The last thing she needed was for the new kid to put her on blast. She washed out some of the filters.

"You should keep that to yourself, if could land you in heaps of trouble," she intoned soberly, tapping the wet filters against the side of the sink. Then she was back with a laugh, "But I won't tell, your secret's safe with me!"

It didn't stop her from cutting her eyes to Arjun, brows drawn, her worry obvious. God, did he want to compromise them both? He talked like money like he had it, so he could probably get himself out of a pickle, but....

"That IS true! It's probably because you're shiny and new. Then again, I don't remember everyone fawnin' over me when I was hired." She pouted in faux-jealousy as she reset the filters.