THREE VEINS [H.S.]

| 8 | GRAY AREA

||| EVELYN |||

The next day, I'm in the backroom of Barker's when I hear the front entrance chime. Zoned into an intense work mode before lunch time, I don't bother to glance at who's coming in.

Ding!

Ding!

Ding!

The bell on the register counter is hit relentlessly, yanking my mindset from inventory to the nuisance.

Ding!-Ding!-Ding!-Ding!-Ding!

Okay... the fuck?

I decide to carry a box to the sales floor to kill two birds with one stone, but when I come face to face with the demanding customer, my annoyance suddenly scales down.

"Hello, Evelyn..." Harry says softly, bracing himself against the checkout counter with a smile.

I stop in my tracks, releasing a breath of surprised relief. "Harry... hi."

His voice is tinged with light sarcasm. "You really need better customer service here. I've been waiting for ages."

"And you–" I reply, setting the box on the counter to mirror his leaning stance on the other side. "–need to be a better customer. You're also early. Lunch isn't for another twenty minutes."

He says nothing back as he looks around the empty bookstore, nonchalant eyes floating from one book spine to the next.

Silence.

More silence.

Cricket silence.

I keep a persistent gaze on him and the olive crewneck resting loosely on his shoulders as I break the dramatics.

"Can I help you with something, Harry?"

His eyebrows raise, redirected to whatever his current mission is. "Oh, yes... now that you mention it. I have a proposition for you. You may not like it, but I figured I'd give it a go."

"What makes you think I wouldn't like it?" I ask, curiosity growing with each passing second.

He shrugs, eyes falling onto me. "Well, I wouldn't call us friends, but we're not strangers. It's hard to discern what's acceptable or not in this stage."

"I'd call us a gray area," I reply plainly, stepping away from the counter to pick up the box and continue my task.

This man isn't going to stop me from carrying out my paying job.

He stays at the register, keeping conversation from a distance. "A gray area..." He repeats to taste the words on his own tongue.

"You know, when something isn't just black and white?" I explain, opening the box and stacking books on a center display table. "A gray area?"

"Makes sense," He replies easily with a subtle nod, watching me work. "Now that's settled, here's the proposition: Come to Seattle with me this weekend."

I almost drop a hardcover on my foot.

"Seattle?" I ask not-so-calmly, my mouth dropped wide as I look up at him.

Harry nods oh-so-calmly, leaning comfortably against the counter. "Seattle. The Emerald City. The one and only."

I have never been to Seattle. Of course, I've seen pictures of the Space Needle and have sat at the dreary airport gates of Sea-Tac International. But never a full-blown trek into the city limits.