“Come on in, then. Stay on the yellow brick road.”
I follow her on the vinyl runner to the children’s section at the back of the store. She’s got little round tables all set up with matching chairs, a “yellow brick” rug in front of a rocking chair, and another table covered with plates of food.
“Help yourself.” She nods toward the food. “Or I’ll have to donate it… somewhere.”
I take a plate and pile it with a rainbow cupcake, a cookie shaped like a hot-air balloon, and a frosted cake-pop glittering with red sprinkles. To complete this sugar buffet, Allie pours me a cup of lime-green punch.
“Have a seat.” She gestures to one of the tables.
“Why’d you decide to be a tree?” I ask, adjusting my rear on the diminutive chair.“From the Forest of Fighting Trees.” Allie sits across from me with another plate. “You know, the apple trees that get mad when Dorothy picks their fruit?”
“Sure, but why a tree?” I peel the paper away from the cupcake. “Why weren’t you Dorothy or the witch?”
“Oh, I wanted to save those for the kids, so I picked a costume that was less obvious. I figured we’d have a dozen Dorothys and witches running around.”
“Did you advertise over at the library?” I ask. “I volunteer there once a week. They’ve always got kids’ programs going on.”
“Yeah, but I think that’s the problem. Everyone goes there instead of coming here. I even spent three afternoons last week down by the lake wearing that stupid costume and handing out flyers.”
“Maybe no one realized you were supposed to be from The Wizard of Oz,” I suggest. “They might’ve thought you were advertising some freakish tree party.”
“Maybe.” Allie munches on a cookie. “So, anyway, sorry for bitching about it. What can I help you with? Are you looking for a book?”
Although I have concluded my chances of employment here are slim to none, I figure I have nothing to lose. “Actually, I’m looking for a job. I was wondering if you need any help.”
“Oh. Business is pretty slow, unfortunately.”
“I have a lot of retail experience. I could hold down the fort while you… advertise.”
“Not a bad idea.” Allie pops the last of the cookie into her mouth and gives me a considering look. “I have been thinking about staying open later on weekends. Try to catch some of the theater and restaurant foot traffic. If you’re looking to work random hours, plus weekends, for very little pay, then you’ve hit the jackpot.”
Hardly ideal, but I like Allie Lyons. I like her shabby shop and her scary apple-tree costume and the pink calligraphic sign that’s better suited for a questionable massage parlor than a bookstore.
“Great.” I push to my feet. “When can I start?”
“Heart, courage, home, or brains?”
“What?”
I hold out the plate of cookies that Allie insisted I take home. They’re rectangular sugar cookies frosted with the words Heart, Brains, Home, and Courage.
I dangle a Brains cookie in front of Dean. “I suppose I didn’t need to ask.”
He takes the cookie and bites into it. “Doesn’t this mean I don’t have brains?”
“Like I said, I didn’t need to ask.”
He gives me a swat on the rear, which then turns into a very nice caress. I nibble on a Courage cookie and settle in beside him on the sofa. He’s supposed to be watching a baseball game, but apparently the butt-pat got him thinking in another direction because he curves his hand around me to fondle my breast.
“Shouldn’t you be working?” I ask, shifting around so he can get a better hold on me. “Summer classes end next week.”
“Work’s all done. Give me a kiss, beauty.”
I turn my head and surrender to his warm, sugary mouth. Heat shoots across my skin. He tucks a hand underneath my shirt and flicks the clasp on my bra, then cups the weight of my breast in his palm.
“Oh, wait.” I’ve had the dates of the summer session in my head because I was hoping some jobs might open up if students leave town before the fall semester starts at the end of August. Now something occurs to me, and I ease away from Dean. “Hold on. I need to check…”
I head into the bedroom, pressing a hand to my stomach. As much as I’d like to start stripping naked right away, I don’t want to be unpleasantly surprised. I pull down my pants and underwear to check things out. Nothing. Good.
I head back to the living room, then stop. I turn into the kitchen and look at the calendar, do a quick calculation in my head.
My stomach flutters hard.
“Liv?”
“Coming.” Tension tightens my spine as I return to the living room. Dean’s sprawled on the sofa, looking entirely edible with his stubbly jaw and thick, wavy hair. His T-shirt has ridden up a couple of inches to expose the hard ridges of his stomach. His hand hovers over the button-fly of his jeans.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Um.”
He lowers his hand and pushes to sitting. “Um what?”
“I didn’t get my period.” I rub my palms on my thighs. “Or I… I haven’t gotten it, at any rate. Yet.”
Something flickers in his eyes, but I can’t read what it is.