Site Meter novembre's diary

novembre

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jimmy at the book shop take one

you are starting in the middle of the story.

Sully moved like molasses. Everything he said was carefully chosen and slowly articulated. I used to tease him, called him Slowly Sully. It was perfect that he owned a book shop: the only thing he did with vigor was read.

Sully reached over and locked the cash register, brushing dust off its edges with his fingers. He pursed his lips and tilted the brim of his signature Stetson back with his thumb. Wiped his hands on his wilted brown leather vest. �Good day. Broke even. I can pay myself. That�s a good day.�

�So you think I should tell her,� I said. I said it like a statement, not a question. You think I should deflate Charlie with the friendly eyes.

�I don�t know, man.� He paused and scraped at the stubble on his chin with his thumb. I�d never seen a man with dirtier, longer fingernails than Sully. He squinted at me. �A hand on a thigh might not mean� well�� He paused and shook his head. His eyes came to rest on my favorite mug, displaced to the bookshop after our move. "Don't tell Mona."

I nodded, somber.

�You remember when Thara came to our open house in a suit?�

�She said she wanted to class up your store,� I said. I remembered her threading through the musty aisles making jokes about the black tie dress code.

�That girl looks good in anything,� Sully said, smiling at me, baiting me.

I didn�t bite. �I liked her in dresses.�

�Sure you did,� Sully said. �You�re a meat and potatoes kinda guy.�

�What�s wrong with that?�

Sully laughed. He leaned over the counter and called for Mona in his low scratchy voice. A beat later Mona waddled down the middle of the store, her dress swinging in little pulls with each step, books in her arms up to her chin. �What do you want, old man,� she grunted, grimacing at the books� weight.

�Mona, honey. I bet you that stack of books Jimmy wore a suit to work today.� Sully pointed at me before sticking his thumbs in his armpits, resting his knuckles against his chest, and settling onto his stool. �That whole stack of books says he wore a suit. Complete with tie.�

Mona exhaled sharply as she set the pile on the counter in front of Sully. �That�s a fool�s bet and you know it.� She crossed over and hugged me hello.

�I would never fool you, Mrs. Slowly Ramona,� Sully promised her, popping off his porkpie hat and bowing slightly.

�Then I�ll pretend I didn�t hear that.� Mona turned back to me: �Jimmy, tell me you left the tie home today, at least?�

I just shrugged, and smiled.

�Good Lord, boy,� Mona said, hands on her hips. �It�s Friday.�

Accounting for three years at the same place made me mechanical. I just automatically put on a suit every day. My boss always wore hideous sweaters on casual Fridays; I liked to think I stylistically evened out our department.

Sully helped Mona into a coat resembling a tent made out of paisley upholstery. �At least he ain�t wearin� the suit now, baby.� He narrowed his eyes at me. �You won�t be wearing it Sunday, will you?�

I leaned against the counter and raised my chin, looking down my nose at them theatrically. This would have appeared suave if my elbow hadn�t dislodged Mona�s pile of books to restock.

�Leave it,� Mona said, tugging the front of her jacket down, smoothing out its collar in a snap. �Maybe Sully will forget and come in tomorrow thinking we got robbed. Maybe it�ll light a fire under him.� Mona smiled at me but reached back to Sully and took his arm. I was amazed how she knew where he was standing; her movements looked age-worn and effortless.

�Burt,� Sully commanded, and immediately Burt stood at attention by her master�s side. I never could get over Thara naming Sully's Labrador after Burt Reynolds. A girl dog, at that. She told me she wanted to toughen her up a little.

Sully looked at his wife, smiling. �Shall we dance?�

She tipped her head in acknowledgement and I followed the family outside, locking the door in our wake.

10:44 pm - 10.04.04

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