Wild One | Bbangsaz

Chapter 5

Hanni's

It's a typical Tuesday afternoon at the spark. The (deserted) sales floor has been swept, dusted, and polished, the (sparse) gaps on the shelves filled, the (dismal) account ledgers balanced. Do-Eun works on inventorying the back stock while I sort through today's batch of mail in my office. This chore is always an exercise in boredom with the occasional sprinkle of frustration, which is why I put it off until late in the day.

Junk, junk, more junk. Publisher's advance list—I'll set that aside for buying season, if we make it to the next one. And ... a letter from the chain bookstore who wants to buy us out.

Fucking again? I treat that last one to a death glare and spike it into the trash can without even opening it. It's almost certainly yet another buyout offer, and I have zero patience for any more of their lowball attempts.

My already strained mood threatens to crack when I see the return address on the next envelope. I slit it open and my fears are confirmed. It's a snotty warning from the property management company who handles our storefront, demanding our rent. That's the third bill due this week ... and the third we'll have to beg for an extension on.

Groaning to myself, I mutter, "Goddamn it!"

I tried to be quiet, but evidently Do-Eun still heard me from the stockroom. She pokes her blond head around the doorjamb. "You okay, Hanni?"

"There's no blood or broken bones, if that's what you mean." I sigh, holding up the offending piece of paper pinched between my thumb and finger, as if I'm showing her a dead rat.

Do-Eun may be eight years younger than me and my only employee, but she's been here since the very first day I opened the spark. Every struggle and accidentally shouted swear word, all my bad days, she's been privy to them.

"Sorry. I'm just a little stressed out."

Do-Eun touches my shoulder. "It's cool, I know. I'm sure you'll figure something out," she says softly.

Will I, though? I bite my tongue to avoid infecting her with any more of my growing pessimism. I gave myself two years to make this business work, and it's been twenty-three months. I promised myself I wouldn't dip into my savings to keep it afloat—promised that I would make it succeed of its own accord. Only now, that doesn't seem very likely.

The only option I can come up with is one I don't want to think about. When I quit my old job as a book buyer, my boss told me I could come back anytime. But, dammit, The Spark is my baby, my pet project, my dream. I've invested so much in this ... I don't want to fail at it. I don't want to go back to corporate life with a manager riding my ass all the time. Yet here I am, on the verge of throwing in the towel, with no idea how to avoid that humbling last resort.

Finally, I just say, "I hope so, Do-Eun. I hope so."

The sober moment is interrupted by loud ringing. Minji? The thought leaps into my mind of its own accord. But when I check my phone, I see it's not a call, it's the alarm I set to remind me of my doctor's appointment in half an hour. Huh ... I got so wrapped up in stressing out over our finances, I didn't even notice the workday was over. I guess time flies when you're having an aneurysm.

I shoot Do-Eun an apologetic look. "Sorry, I have to run. Can you handle—"

"Of course. You already told me this morning you needed to leave early," she says, smiling. "I still don't get why you're so into this whole baby thing when you could have any man at your beck and call, but hey, you do you. Go ahead and get going. I'll close up shop in a bit."

"Thanks," I shout as I rush out the door.

I'm so keyed up, it takes an effort to stay at the speed limit as I drive to the doctor's office. I've been looking forward to this visit for the past week. Even though my bookshop may be in the toilet, at least my plans for motherhood are right on track, and that cheers me up immensely.