Call It One-Sided Read online

  Call It One-Sided

  Daniela Reyes

  Torres Press LLC

  Copyright © 2019 by Daniela Reyes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Torres Press LLC

  To my mom, for telling me to keep writing. And to the readers who make this possible

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Daniela Reyes

  Chapter 1

  Elena wedged the unopened, late payment notice into her copy of Pride and Prejudice.

  It was the third notice this month, two more than the leasing company had sent in October. The bookshop had made the rent last month, and Elena knew they’d make it this month too. Bee’s Books always had its highest sales around the holidays.

  She hid the book in her desk drawer and went back to sorting through the rest of the mail. The majority of it was addressed to Bee’s Books, but there were a few personal letters mixed in, most of them from her dad’s loyal readers. She stacked them together and knocked on the door of the bedroom that doubled as his office.

  “Dad?”

  No answer.

  Another knock.

  “Dad?”

  Still no answer.

  She reached for the doorknob, only to find it was locked. “Dad.” Her tone rose. Before she could knock again, the door opened. Elena breathed out. “Were you sleeping?”

  “Yes,” Andres said. “Sorry. I stayed up writing the whole night. I took a nap after lunch and lost track of time.” He rubbed his dark brown eyes, the bags under them prominent. She held the letters out. “Mail from readers?” he asked.

  Elena nodded. “Do you want me to put them in your ‘to reply’ pile?” Some days her dad was in the mood to read letters, but other days, usually when he let his naps run into the afternoon, Elena knew better.

  “Yes please. I’m going to hop in the shower. What time did Will’s flight land?” Elena noticed her dad’s face brighten as he mentioned her best friend.

  “It got delayed by an hour. But he should be here soon.” Will had only been gone a week, but to Elena it felt like a century. He’d texted her every day about his college visits and interviews in New York City. They’d managed to get one video call in, but other than that he’d been busy.

  “Good,” Andres said. “I’ll get dinner started after my shower. Do you mind closing up?”

  This was good, her dad only cooked dinner on his best days. She slipped the mail into the her back pocket. “I’ll wait for Will downstairs. Let me know if you need help with anything.”

  “I think I’ll be fine,” Andres said. He yawned and brushed his hand against Elena’s cheek. “What would I do without you?”

  Elena didn’t answer. She smiled and leaned her head against her dad’s embrace, until he gently pulled away. The Castro’s apartment was right above the bookshop, with an outside entrance and an inside one that Elena preferred. The spiral staircase was well hidden from the main bookshop area. Customers often thought her parents had remodeled but the building had come like that. Since the lease price was the same whether they lived upstairs or not, Elena’s parents had decided to save on rent and live above their bookshop.

  She smiled, thinking about her young parents, two twenty-two-year-olds with a baby on the way, and absolutely no idea what they were doing. They’d moved to Glensford and bet their luck on her dad’s first book deal. Elena stepped behind the counter, gathering loose receipts and bits of paper.

  She dusted the counter, and some nearby shelves, knowing none of this was really efficient. It was a way to keep herself from texting Will. He was probably on the road now. She could call him. Elena went back to dusting. No. He’d be here soon. Then he could tell her about his whole trip in more detail than texts or short video calls allowed.

  She spent a few more minutes dusting, then turned the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed.’ She went back behind the counter and sorted through the day’s receipts. The result was underwhelming. The sales were better than they’d been recently, but not where she wanted them to be.

  Elena had been helping with the bookshop’s accounts since they’d run out of money to keep their accountant in July. She hadn’t known sales were declining as much as they were, not until she’d noticed the first late payment notice arrive in September, for the shop’s electric bill. It was hard to see the decline unless she pulled up years’ worth of reports. Then there’d been the late payment notice for rent last month. That’d been like a bucket of ice water thrown over Elena’s shoulders.

  The jingle bells tied to the front door rang, echoing the sounds of Christmas in late November. Elena straightened up. She tried to give her best smile as she thought of Will. He was here. She was happy for him. She couldn’t let him see how much she’d missed him or anything that might give away Bee’s current financial state.

  Okay. She could do that.

  The door closed. Elena stepped forward.

  “Will-”

  A boy stepped inside, not a stranger, but not a particularly welcomed customer.

  “Marco,” Elena said. “We’re closed.”

  Marco looked at his watch. “You don’t close for another five minutes.” Then he pointed to the clock in the back, behind the counter. “Your clock’s five minutes ahead.”

  She sighed. He was right and she really didn’t like that he was. “What do you need?” She knew the answer.

  A history book

  “A history book,” Marco said. “First edition. I thought you might have it.” He pulled out his phone. It was a different model than the one she’d seen him carrying a few weeks ago and that had been a different model to the one before that.

  Elena scanned the screen.

  A Visual History of Glensford: 1955-1975

  By Preston Blanchard

  She thought back to the history books they already had in the collection and to the new inventory they had (mostly on consignment these days). They had a few Preston Blanchard books. Elena scrolled through her mental list.

  “Maybe you should check your actual catalogue instead of your mental one.”

  Elena pretended not to hear Marco. It was the best way to deal with him.

  “We don’t have it in stock, but I know a collector who might have it.”

  “Might isn’t a definite answer.”

  “Well, it’s the best I can do.”

  Marco adjusted the strap of his watch; the white leather strap stood out against his tan skin. “Fine. Look for it later and let me know if you find it. I’ve looked on every auction website and bookstore known to man. Do you have anything else by him in stock?”

  Elena nodded. “We have a book about when G
lensford was a factory town.” Most of the buildings in the San Mateo district had once been textile factories. The city had created the historic district to preserve the older infrastructure, but they’d allowed local shops to open in the 1970s. San Mateo became a tourist attraction after that.

  “I’ll take it,” Marco said.

  Elena went to their history section and pulled out the book. Will always joked that she’d developed a sixth sense for knowing where all the books in the shop were. The truth was she’d shelved all the books or rearranged them at some point every month. It made it easier when the inventory system they used, outdated as it was, crashed.

  She brought the book to the counter and scanned the price tag in. It rang up at $150. It was a first edition. Elena looked up to find Marco holding his card out to her. He didn’t even ask the total, which was exactly why she’d recommend the book she had. He never asked about prices, and to be fair, most editions of Preston Blanchard books sold for over $200. He’d written a collection of books solely on the history of Glensford. When he’d died, tourists went crazy about buying the books. And since not many had been printed, the few copies that remained sold at great prices. And the store needed the money. Elena wouldn’t let Bee’s close, even if she had to deal with Marco Silva or work a thousand extra shifts at Melo’s Coffee.

  Elena slid the card. There was an error. Marco looked up. “You should get a new machine and maybe a new computer, new shelves,” he said, pointing around. “Change is a good thing, great for business.” She slid the card again, forcing her eyes not to roll. The card beeped through. She handed Marco his receipt. He didn’t even look at it. She probably wouldn’t look at receipts if her family owned one of the biggest cafe chains in the country. He was set to inherit more money than most people would see for generations.

  “Thank you for shopping with us,” she said.

  Marco looked up. “Your acting’s getting better.”

  Elena pretended not to hear him again and waited until the jingle bells rang to wipe the smile from her face.

  After a brief pause, the door opened again. Elena cleared her throat. She kept her spot behind the counter. Sometimes he did this, came back in just to bother her.

  “Did you forget something?” she asked, no longer caring to act.

  “I hope not..” Elena’s heart jumped. Will stood at the entrance to Bee’s, wearing the denim jacket she’d bought him three Christmases ago and the army boots she’d replaced for him last year.

  “Will. I thought you were someone else.”

  “I did see Marco walking down the street, so that would explain the warm welcome.” He smiled, holding out his arms. “Do I get a normal welcome now?”

  Elena nodded. She nearly ran out from behind the counter, but composed herself and wrapped her arms around Will. He smelled different. She looked up, meeting his blue eyes.

  “Before you say anything,” Will said, “it’s a new cologne, seaside something. I don’t know. A friend I met on the campus tours recommended it.”

  “It’s a nice smell. Different. My dad’s making dinner. You can tell us all about your trip.” What Elena really wanted to know was if he’d decided on a college yet, and if he still wanted to move to New York.

  When it came to Will, there were always a thousand things she wanted to say, to ask, but never allowed herself to.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” Elena said. “Everything’s great. You’re back and my dad’s cooking dinner. Marco Silva is out of Bee’s and all is well. Now come on, tell me, how’d your interviews go?”

  She grabbed Will’s hand, pulling him up the stairs as he told her. Elena half-listened. Her thoughts had been on Bee’s these last few weeks. But she realized now, in a few months she’d lose Will too.

  And that was something she could do nothing about, no matter how in love with him she was.

  Chapter 2

  Marco looked at the receipt.

  It wasn’t an expensive book, at least compared to the other ones he’d bought his vovô before. It just meant Elena Castro really didn’t like him now. Or she was catching on to his spending habits, not that that was an impressive feat. Marco slipped the receipt into a cupholder.

  “How long until we arrive?” he asked his driver, Greg something. Marco inspected the book for damages as he waited for an answer.

  “We’re about two minutes away,” Greg said. “Do you need to stop somewhere beforehand?”

  “No,” Marco said. He closed the book, finding nothing in the way of significant damage. Bee’s Books kept their first editions in near mint condition, he’d give them that. Greg said nothing else. The woman at the gate at the Glensford Resort and Country Club didn’t ask for any information from Marco. He simply rolled his window down and that was that.

  He watched the endless green of the golf courses as Greg drove to the Silva Event Hall, one of three banquet halls Marco’s family had donated. They always hosted events there, free of charge of course. Today they were celebrating his grandfather’s seventy-eighth birthday. It was a late celebration since his birthday had been a week ago, but Vovô always had his first celebration back home in Brazil.

  “You can drop me off here,” Marco said, pointing to a side entrance. If he used the main one then he’d have to say hello to all the guests and check in. It wouldn’t let him make the entrance he wanted.

  “Yes, sir.” Greg pulled the car up to the sidewalk, already unlocking his door.

  Marco stopped him. “I got it,” he said. “Come back in an hour.” As much as he loved his grandfather, he didn’t plan on staying long.

  Marco walked into the banquet hall, deciding he’d be quiet for now. It would be more fun that way, with no one expecting him. His brother, Lucas, had already texted him half a dozen times, asking where he was. If their father hated anything, it was a lack of punctuality.

  Marco watched as a server went in through another back door. He waited and then lunged behind the woman, using his foot to keep the door open. He ran inside, hiding behind the server. She didn’t notice him. The room buzzed with music and an appropriate level of idle chatter. He recognized most of the faces in the crowd, families from the club, kids from San Mateo Prep, and a few of his father’s business partners.

  Marco scanned the tables until he found the one closest to the banquet table, right at the front of the room. Lucas spotted him first.

  So much for an entrance. Marco waved to his brother, who looked relieved more than anything. He motioned for Marco to wait. Marco walked to the table, before his older brother had a chance to get up.

  “Marco,” Vovô said. The Silva patriarch stood up and pushed past Abby’s chair, wrapping his arms around his grandson. Marco welcomed the embrace, taking in his grandfather’s usual scent, coffee beans and warm caramel. They both stepped back from the hug. “You brought me a present?”

  Marco nodded. He handed the book over to his grandfather. “You can add it to your collection.”

  Vovô flipped through the book like an excited child. He motioned for Marco to sit.

  As Marco walked to the empty seat next to his brother, he met his father’s glare. Felipe Silva said nothing, but he didn’t need to.

  Wait until we get home was written all over his face. Marco gave him a nod hello. He ignored Abby, who wore her usual, nervous expression. Heather, Lucas’s girlfriend, wasn’t there.

  “Was there traffic on the way here?” Felipe asked. He looked tired.

  “Nope,” Marco said. “I had to pick up Vovô’s gift. I hope I’m not too late.”

  “The party started three hours ago,” his father said. Abby whispered something to him.

  “What was that, Abby?” Marco asked.

  She looked at him, her gray eyes passive. “Nothing. You’re here now, so we should just enjoy the rest of the night.” He didn’t need his stepmother to defend him, least of all when he didn’t want to settle things. Marco sat back, meeting his father’s unrelenting glare. Vovô brought up
another topic to the boy seated beside him. Marco had no idea who the kid was, it was usually a scholarship recipient from the Silva foundation, but the boy looked like he had no idea what to say. The girl next to him was quiet, nodding as Abby turned to asked her questions.

  She looked familiar. Mia something, they went to school together.

  Marco ignored the thought and turned to his brother. “Where’s Heather?”

  “I texted you. You could’ve told me you were on your way.”

  “Is she on another one of her gap year trips? Has she heard from Cecilia?”

  Lucas leaned in. “We broke up,” he whispered. “I haven’t told anyone else yet, okay? And Cecilia-”

  “You two broke up? How? Why? You’ve been together for like a century.”

  “Six years. It just didn’t feel right anymore.”

  “So she broke up with you.”

  “She did.”

  “And you agreed to it?”

  Lucas shrugged. “I can’t force her to date me, Marco. You can’t be selfish with the people you love.”

  Marco laughed. “You want to tell Dad that?”

  “Marco, please, not today,” Lucas said. “We haven’t seen Vovô in six months. We don’t need a show, okay?”

  Marco hated when his brother did that, acted like he was the bigger person. Lucas did exactly what their father asked. He’d gone to Glensford College, was studying business, and interned at the Melo’s Coffee finance department every summer. He was the son Felipe Silva could be proud of, the one that didn’t cause any trouble. The one who hadn’t even flinched when his dad had left their mother for their nanny.