14 posts tagged “black books”

Elle was in a particularly bad mood when I came home from yoga with Bert.
"Oh, Christ, now you're on drugs too?!" she exclaimed, tossing a book at me.
"Yoga has nothing to do with drugs." I smiled and exhaled slowly. "It's like having sunshine in your veins."
"I read an article about the stuff- it's very dangerous," Elle said. "Listen to you, you're becoming one of them. You're going over to the other side. The land of sandals, spoon-benders and yogurt fanciers."
"Don't be ridiculous, Elle. I think Elise looks fab," Bert said. "She's the most flexible person in the whole class."
I grinned. There was a reason for that. And his name is Ben.
Since Leo and I had quietly decided to break up (we both found out we were shagging other people), I had been seeing various men. My relationship with Leo was the longest one I'd had since middle school and I felt tied down (even when I was being tied down by someone who was not Leo). So, I had been taking advantage of my new-found freedom and seeing as many men as possible.
And Ben, our yoga instructor, had become my new playmate.
We'd gone out for drinks at a trendy juice bar after my first class and that night I found out exactly how flexible I could be. It was crazy. And because Ben is fantastic and wonderful and everything a man should be, we decided to keep things casual. He can see other women and I can see other men. And things are going brilliantly.
I leaned against Elle's desk. "So, have you thought about where you'd like to go for our little vacation?"
"Yes, actually," Elle said, sitting up straight in her chair. "I have spent hours and hours thinking about where we should go and I've made a decision."
"Wow," I said, "you must really have had a change of heart. So, where would you like to go?"
"To the pub across the street. And no further."

After yoga class the next day, Bert and I were just strolling in the park, both of us feeling very relaxed. Him, because he honestly enjoyed yoga and I, because I'd just had a quickie with Ben in his office while Bert was changing out of his unitard.
"If I were any more relaxed, you could just pour me into a bowl," Bert said. He looked at me. "You've given up smoking, haven't you?"
"Of course, I have," I said. That statement was almost true. I'd stopped smoking completely... besides post-coital cigarettes, but that's different.

We headed back to the shop and noticed a sign being put up across the street from Whyte Books, right beside Black Books.

And that's when the noise started.

"Bern", as Bernard is now apparently called, stormed out of Whyte Books and I threw myself upon Elle's cluttered desk, nearly sending a pencil up my backside. But anyway. My move was meant to be dramatic but ended up looking more klutzy.

"We should offer coffee and snacks and tables and sofas that you, too!" I exclaimed. "Otherwise, we'll never be able to compete with Black Books!" I stared at her, impatiently waiting her answer.

"You're daft," Elle said, her usual blank expression more blank than usual. "Coffee and books is a fad!"

I was so put off, I actually stomped my foot down... and it landed on a small creature. I winced. The invasion of creatures that lived over at Black Books had started migrating across the street to our shop.

I grimaced. "That's the second one I've stomped dramatically on today."

"I killed four in the kitchen about half an hour ago," Elle added. "They're getting bigger and more lively. Probably feeding on snacks and coffee at Black Books or something."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Yes. You're right. Delicious coffee and delicious snacks." I pointed out the window. "And look! Their shop is full of customers!!"

Elle stared at me. "And why would be want our shop full of customers?? I don't even like it when you're around, let alone people I don't know."

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. "This is a great opportunity, Elle. More customers means more-"

"Noise."
"No."
"Talking in the shop."
"Well, yes. But that's not what I was going to say-"
"...Unusual smells?"
"No! More customers means more profit!" I was evolving into an Italian, talking excitedly using my hands a lot. "More profits equals more stuff we can buy!"

Elle sat back in her chair, drinking her Fizzy Good. "We have everything we need. Food. Clothing. Free booze from the cellar of the pub next door. What more do we need?"

I thought for a second. "...More booze?"

Elle's mouth twisted in thought. "That's a good point." She looked out the window again. "Look! All the customers are leaving! Bernard must've said something appalling or they were frightened off by that overgrown hobbit friend of yours!! Ha! Not so posh now, are we Black Books!!"

I glanced at her. She really had gone quite mad. "It's lunch."

Suddenly, Elle's face lit up like I'd never seen it light up before. It was weird.

Bert’s gone crying off to his mum, or something, while Elise went trouncing off, most likely to entice and tease Manny, while I’m stuck in the bleeding shop, nursing, yet again, another hangover.

Elise was curious as to what was going on over at Black Books; people seem to be swarming over there like…like things that swarm.  I told Elise I had no interest in whatever mad scheme Bernard and the Bearded Blunder were up to.

I was sitting at my desk, trying to make a Fizzy-Good, when I heard someone whisper in front of me.

“Excuse me?”

“What?! What do you want?” I asked, looking up to see some girl standing in front of me, clutching a book about that really crap 60’s band, the Beatles.  She looked like the type who would enjoy that rubbish.  Her purse had badges and pins on it, saying “Vote environment!” and “Bring back the Beatles!”  Americans, honestly.

 “How much is this?” the girl asked.  I threw my arms up in defence; every time she opened her mouth a flash of blinding light shot out, endangering my already slightly precarious vision.

“Stop! Stop talking!” I yelled, waving my arms.  I reached down blindly, felt for the desk drawer and pulled out my sunglasses.  As I put them on, I replied, “Why do want to buy that?  It’s crap.”

“I-I like the Beatles?” she replied, this time the flashes of light reflected off the sunglasses and no into my eyes.  Braces.  What kind of orthodontic sadist thinks these things up?

“Of course you do,” I replied dryly, “all Americans like really crap bands.”  I grabbed the book from her and thumbed through it.

“Actually, I’m Canadian,” she replied, trying to open her mouth as little as possible, finally cluing in that her mouth was causing my mincers great pain. 

I stopped. 

Canadian?  Don’t they all live in igloos or something?

I blinked.  “Ahh…5 quid.”  As she dug her money out, I tried to make small talk.  “So how long does it actually take to make an igloo?”  She narrowed her eyes at me as she handed over the money.  “Must really be a pain, having to use dog sleds and all to get from place to place, yeh?”

“I’m not from Alaska,” she snorted, taking the book from my outstretched hand, and turning away.  So is Alaska now part of Canada?  I thought it belonged to the Soviets.  

As soon as the Canadian left, I was back to being bored out of my skull.  No one was in the shop.  And I mean no one. 

So, naturally, curiosity got the better of me.

I grabbed Bert’s opera glasses off the desk and went over to squat by the front windows, next to the door.  I putting them up to my face, I realized I could see a whole lot better, especially after I took the sunglasses off.  My head stopped hurting too.

Anyroad, that doesn’t matter.  What I saw mattered and it bothered me greatly.  There were people, lots of people, in Bernard’s shop, sitting around, reading books, drinking from mugs and milling about.  Manny was also standing in a box, talking to Elise, but that just furthers my point about Manny being completely mad.  And about Elise leading him on.

I was just about to get up and go over myself, when the door opened, hit my arse and sent me sprawling onto the floor.

“What ar’you doin’?” grumbled a voice I instantly knew.  Pushing myself off the floor, I straightened up, so see Bernard, wearing a label that said “Bern” on his lapel, surrounded by a couple gold star stickers, like the ones children get for doing something good, like fetching the paper, or not peeing on the carpet.

“I was looking for something,” I replied, dusting myself off.  He watched me before reaching out and grabbing the opera glasses from my hand.

“What’s dis then?” he asked, looking the glasses over.

“Opera glasses,” I replied, trying to take them from him.  He put them up to his eyes and said, “What were you using d’em for?”

“Going to the opera?” I replied, hoping he’d just drop the subject. 

“I didn’t t’ink you were so high class,” he replied, spinning around to look out the window.  “What opera?  Black Books, featuring a genius and a beard?” He threw the glasses to me.

“Actually that’s a soap,” I replied coolly.  He frowned and was about to say some nasty retort, when Elise popped through the door, exclaiming, “Elle!  I’ve got an idea – oh!  What are you doing here?”

Bernard scowled at Elise.  Then in a high pitched voice, he replied, “I t’ought I’d come over for a book and a cup of coffee.”  And he added a ridiculous giggle before pushing Elise aside and shuffling out the door.

I looked at Elise, raising an eyebrow, I asked, “What was that all about?”

Ten cent whore. Ten cent whore!
What a prick. I've only ever shagged someone for money one time in college... Well, when I stayed with my friend who went to college. I never actually went... I needed money for a cab and this guy I met on campus offered me a hundred quid for a go in his car.
It seemed so weird though... He seemed a bit old to be a college student. Apparently the college professor look is in with students too.
Wait...

Anyway, I'm so glad that Bert is not the father of my child... because now I hate the sodding trannie. Can't believe his entire act was spent making fun of Elle and I. (And he did my model walk all wrong.) Elle gave him a good beating with the broom the next morning but I'm still angry with him anyway.

Something's going on over at Black Books. While Elle was sleeping at her desk his afternoon, I popped over there for a few minutes- the place, I tell you, was packed! There were customers sitting at tables, drinking coffee and eating snacks while reading their books. Classical music was playing from somewhere. Bernard had a name tag ("Bern", it said) on his lapel- and did not looked pleased, per usual. Somebody was literally being eaten by a bright green sofa nearby. Manny, looking proud as a peach, was standing at a podium, his chest hair in full view. It was a bit gross, to be honest.

A short girl in a denim jacket was standing by the door, reading a thick book about Henry VIII. She smiled as me when I came in and went back to her book. I raised an eyebrow at her.

"You're in my way," I said. Why is a 12-year-old in a book shop and not in school anyway?
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said in an American accent.
"Pfft," I said. "Americans."
"Actually I'm Canadian," she said in a mousy little voice. "I'm from Nova Scotia."
I just blinked at her. "I don't care." Actually, I don't even know where that is...

I walked over to Manny's podium. His proud smile faltered a little bit when I approached. I guess he was still a bit upset over the him-being-in-love-with-me-but-me-not-feeling-that-way-in-the-least thing that happened ages ago.
Honestly. People need to grow up.

"What is going on here?" I asked.
"We're improving the shop," Manny exclaimed. "Competing with the big chain stores."
Bernard strolled over, his hands in his pockets. "This whole ting is crap, Manny. It's a waste of time."
Manny crossed his arms over his (ape-like) chest. "We've tripled our weekly profits in just one day. This is good for business!"
"Profits shmofits," Bernard said. He looked at me. "And what are you doing in here?!"
"I thought I'd come over," I glanced at Manny, "for a book... and a cup of coffee."
Manny beamed at this.
"You work at a book shop. Why would you come here for a book? That's-that's dumb!" Bernard seemed really irritated by this.
"Your shop has an ambience that Whyte Books doesn't have." I smiled cutely up at him.
Bernard snarled at me and stormed out of the store. I looked back at Manny.
"The shop looks nice, Manny." I batted my eyelashes at him. "Good work."
His entire face went red.

Bert wasn’t too happy about cutting up the “pride” of the roses.  They’re roses, seriously.  They should be proud, eunuch or not. 

Anyroad, after staying up all night cutting the roses’ “naughty bits,” drinking an obscene amount of wine and Life Cry and making ourselves sick on the combination of Life Cry and chocolate truffles, we managed to get grossly drunk, trim Bert’s hair and finish Part Three of my genius plan.

Later the next day, after we had woken up with terrible hangovers and downed banana-and-honey shakes to cure ourselves, we headed over to Black’s Books to give Manny his “present.”

Bernard wasn’t too pleased to see us with armfuls of half-dead roses and large ball of lumpy, melting chocolate.  

“Is Manny in?” I asked, after I had kicked the door open.

“Why?  Wha’ does it matter if he is?” replied Bernard, not even looking up from his book.

“Well…”  I started to say something, but Manny came trouncing down the stairs and into the shop.  He froze in his tracks when he saw me, probably thought I was Elise; well I was, in a sense…you know what I mean.

“Ah, hi Manny,” I said, trying to act as if I was placed in an awkward situation as harbinger of bad tidings.  I shifted the roses in my arms, as I said, “Elise sent these over to you.”  Manny looked almost like a rabbit before it knows it’s going to die, but with a beard.  He just stood there, looking from me to Bert and then to Bernard.

“Well, go on, take d’em!” Bernard snapped.  “An’ d’en go burn ’em.”   Manny came towards me with outstretched arms, taking small steps, like some sort of baby-man.  He lifted the first bunch out of my arms, holding them slightly away from his body, as if they were contaminated.

“Are these the ones I gave her?” he asked.  Smart bloke.

“Ahhh, yeah…” I trailed off, with an ominous tone in my voice.  He tried looking them over at arm’s length.

“What’s wrong with them?” he asked, keeping his voice low, as if someone was eavesdropping.  Well, actually, the customers were.  All three of them.

“Ahhh, well, she, ahhh…kinda got mad, and…” I began, trying not to look at him.

“She cut off the rose’s how’s your father’s,” said Bert, sounding bored with the whole ordeal.  Manny jumped as if he’d been electrified and sent the roses flying into the air.  Bert threw his armful on the floor, causing Bernard to get mad, and Bert to yell that there was more.  So amid the screaming and shouting, Bert dumped the rest of the half-dead roses on the floor and I handed over the sticky glob of chocolate to Manny toute suite, all the while Bernard was yelling at Bert and Manny to clean the roses off the floor.  I ran out, nearly hitting Fran on my way out, and across the street to safety.

“That went well,” drawled Bert, as he threw himself into the desk chair.  I lent my back against a stack and replied, “It went a lot better in my head.”

“I’m sure,” he replied.  He stared at the ceiling for a little while, while I picked up books off the floor.  “What time is it?” he asked suddenly, startling me.

“Ermm…quarter past?” I replied looking around for the clock.

“Damn!” he exclaimed, jumping out of the chair.  “I have to go!” he exclaimed, grabbing a bag in the kitchen.  I ran into the kitchen behind him.

“Where to?” I demanded.  He’d been going out an awful lot lately.

“It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled.  “You wouldn’t get it.”  He hurried out the back door and up the alley.

“I would if you told me!” I yelled after him. 

Why doesn’t anyone explain anything to me around here?

Manny looked like he'd recently been in tears when he stormed into Whyte Books that afternoon.

I had just gotten back for Tom's place a few minutes before Manny came barging in. My afternoon romp with Tom had lead to a casual dinner which, naturally, lead to the bedroom which lead to me staying the night which lead to some early morning shagging which lead to me being very late for work. I still hadn't told Elle about my new, very modern way of life. I didn't know if I would ever tell her, either. Honestly, it was really none of her business.

But I always did enjoy making my sister insanely jealous.

Manny crossed his arms over his chest, stood in the corner of the shop and pouted without a word.

Elle raised an eyebrow at him, pouring herself a glass of wine at her desk, not likely her first of the day. "Oy. Planet of the Apes extra! May we help you?"

I pretended to shelve some books nearby, sliding them in randomly. (King Lear is considered Military History, right?) "Manny, what's wrong? You look..." Like an especially hairy Klingon-Hobbit cross-breed. "...upset."

"I'm quitting Black Books!" he announced. "I can't stay there anymore! I refuse! I won't put up with such treatment any longer! I won't!"

Elle just blinked at him. "...Okay..." She put the cork back in the wine and

"You've actually quit then?" I asked. "I mean, you've said several times that you were going to quit but never did."

Manny shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned. "Well, not yet. But I'm going to!"

Elle snickered. "Yeah. Right."

"I will!" he shouted, startling the tiny old lady customer nearby. "I'll do it, I swear!"

"Oy, shut y'gob!" snapped the tiny old lady customer.

Manny's smiled weakly. "Sorry, ma'am." He sidled over to where I was, taking strange tiny quick steps. "Can I talk to you somewhere in private?" he asked in a whisper. "It's really important."

He followed me into the kitchen we sat down.

Manny didn't seem to know how to start. So, I did.

"So," I said. I cleared my throat. "What did you want to discuss-"

"Oh," he said. "Right. Well, I don't have many things here stopping me from leaving Black Books... 'cept you."

I blinked at him. "Wot?"

Manny shrugged. "Well, I mean, we do have a connection, you and I. You know, chemistry. For Christ sake, we slept together over the holiday! I just..." I let out a long sigh. "If there was a reason for me to stay 'round here, I gladly would."

He's mad. Obviously, he hit his head and now there is something wrong with his brain. I mean, technically I did sleep with him over the holiday but if I had feelings for every bloke I shagged, we would have some issues.

"What I'm trying to say is..." Manny finally looked me directly in the face. "Would you like to go on a date with me? A proper date, I mean. Dinner? Movie?"

I didn't say anything.

"Maybe a walk in Covent Garden?"

I still didn't say anything.

"...Trip to the zoo?"

"Look, Manny-"

"Oh, no."

"Manny, you're a great guy," I said. "But I just don't fancy you that way. I'm sorry if lead you on. I never meant to."

He looked genuinely confused. "But... but we slept together on New Year's Eve!"

"We were drunk!" I exclaimed. "I would have never shagged you if I had been sober!"

That did not come out as eloquently as I'd hoped.

Manny's face tightened. Oh, God. Please don't cry... here.

"Right. Well... Didn't expect that." He slid his chair out and headed out, stopping at the doorway. "Bye Elise. Have a nice life." And then he left.

And I felt awful.

As pay back for having to come and get me after spending the night with Jim- er, Tim, Elle made me work the next day. This job really is God-awful dull. I actually caught myself reading a dictionary to pass the very slow-moving time.

I wander if I could just give myself a severe paper cut across the throat and DIE.

I was spying on Black Books through the window when the little bell above the door jingle, letting us all know that a customer was coming in. Nobody had been in all day so it gave me quite a start.

It was Tom.

And he didn't even notice me.

So, I had to make him notice me.

I grabbed a book off a random shelf, opened it and "accidently" bumped into Tom.

"Oh, gosh," I exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!" I looked up at him, batting my eyelashes discreetly. "Tom!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Elise. What the bloody hell are you doing in a book store?"

I glared at him. "I can read, you know!"

Tom glanced at the cover of the book I had in my hand. It was, unfortunately, The Black Man's Guide to Understanding the Black Woman. Just my luck. It couldn't have been something like The Da Vinci Code or-or-or... 1001 Ways To Tell If Your Lover Is A Complete Fuck-Up Named Tom. Oh, yes. That would have been a really good one.

"Interesting choice," he said with a laugh. "So. How long have you been a black man, anyway? Not long."

I tossed the book onto a nearby shelf and crossed my arms over my chest. "Well, you would know!!"

It was about 0.5 seconds later that I realized that that wasn't actually a come-back. Bugger.

I glanced at Elle for a little assistance. Maybe she would toss the wanker out on his ass. But no. My dear sister was asleep, her head on her desk, an empty bottle of wine sitting on some old books. Great.

Tom just smirked. (Prat.) "I think we should go to lunch."

"It's half ten," I said.

Tom looked at Elle. "Think your boss would mind if you took off a little early?"

"She's not my boss!" I huffed. "She doesn't tell me what I can and cannot do!" I grabbed his hand and lead him out of the shop.

We went to the nearby pub and had some lunch. We talked about everything. Mark. Trish. Us. The whole complicated mess. But, there had been an update since the whole blow-up happened.

"Mark and Trish have been sleeping together for over a year," Tom explained. "And Trish is pregnant."

I gaped at him. "Well, is it yours or is it Mark's?"

Wow, I thought. That is exactly what happened on EastEnders yesterday. 

"Well, the doctor told her she is four weeks pregnant," he said, looking like he didn't give a fig. "So, it has to be Mark's." Tom sighed and sipped his lager. "Needless to say, Mark and I are no longer chums. And Trish is now at his place."

"Do you miss her?" I asked softly.

"Not really," he said with a shrug. "I do miss you, though."   

I've set a new world record: Two evictions in two days.

As it would turn out, Bernard didn't know a thing about me staying there. I knew it. I blood well knew it.

Elle tore herself away from her new fancy tranny man long enough to suggest that I stay with Mom and Dad.

I smiled sweetly and told her that I'd rather rip my toe nails out. Or, rather, her toe nails. She just laughed. Great. Flirting with a transvestite, drinking at half ten in the morning and chain smoking in the shop. She calls me a tramp and a tart and everything - but she is less than a classy woman, honestly.

Well, whatever. I can't stay at the shop because Tranny Man is in my room. That's right- my room! I can't stay at Black Books because Bernard refused to let me stay. Plus, he scares me. Anyway, nobody from that crowd is around. Manny and Bernard are house-sitting while some creep in a powder blue suit cleans the shop for them. Fran is on a date with that lovely bloke- Ben, I think she said his name was.

And I'm still homeless.

Elle ordered me to stop moping about not having a home. She made me a deal: I could sleep on the shop sofa for the night if I put in some hours at the shop. Having no other choice, I agreed.

At least I have a bed to sleep in tonight. Well, not so much a bed as an old worn-out, mouth-eaten couch that still has the stain from where Auntie Madge pissed. I missed my dear old auntie, weak bladder and all.

Earlier this afternoon, Tranny Man (also called "Bert", apparently- possibly short for "Bertha"?) tried to be all nice and apologize for the mix-up. On closer inspection, he really is quite fit and nice-looking. No wonder Elle wants to shag him. 

I have no sister.

For all these years, I thought I had a sister. But apparently, I was very mistaken.

That person who I thought was my sister is actually a heartless, uncaring shrew. This shrew has also just told me that the room- the room that I just assumed was going to be mine- I slept in last night is no longer mine. The shrew put out an ad for the room and some skirt-wearing, comedy-performing, Eddie Izzard-loving tranny answered it. In fact, his stuff is already in the room while mine is out in the hall, waiting to be moved.

Fantastic.

Now. Not only do I not have a sister, I guess I don't have any friends either. I called up all my mates and not one of them has a spare room I can stay in or sofa I can sleep on. Well, sod it. I don't need mates and I definitely don't need a sister.

While Elle The Shrew was chatting flirting with her oddly attractive new roommate, I stole one of Elle's fags from the desk and went outside, in the pouring rain, to be alone. I hadn't smoked in two and a half years. I had never been truly homeless before. Ugh. All homeless people looked so unnattractive.

I dropped the cigarette butt onto the ground and put it out with my heel. It was just then that Manny from Black Books approached me. He forced his eyes to meet mine.

"Hello," he said, speaking towards the ground. "How-how-how are you doing?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Fine." And how are things going on Planet Zargon?

He peered passed me into the open door of the shop. "What's Elise doing talking to that transvestite?"

I rolled my eyes. "That's Elle. I'm Elise." I frowned. "For God sake, we don't even look alike."

Manny laughed awkwardly. "Right. I was just... I was just kidding, y'know." He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets again.

"Right," I said. "That's Bert. He's stealing my bedroom from me. I've been evicted by my own sister. Nice, huh?"

Manny pretended to be extremely interested and concerned, furrowing his eyebrows in a "I'm-extremely-interested" sort of way and crossed his arms in a "I'm-very-concerned" sort of way. "Well, where are you going to stay?"

"I expect in an alley somewhere." I shrugged. "If I'm lucky, some rat will bite me and I'll die of rabies."

Manny winced in thought. "You could stay at Black Books." His eyes widened as soon as the words escaped his lips. He probably hadn't thought it through very well.

But I jumped at the opportunity. A place to stay was a place to stay.

"Really?" I said. "I mean, that would be fab. It wouldn't be for very long, just until I find another flat somewhere." I smiled at him, that strange-looking man. "I really appreciate this, Manny."

His cheeks turned pink. "It's no problem, really."

I bit my lip. "Bernard won't mind, will he?"

Manny's eyes widened again. "Uh... I'm sure it'll be fine... Just, um, gimme a minute. I'll go clear it with him and we can start moving your stuff over. Alright?" He seemed less than confident in this venture but I didn't dare question his methods. I wasn't in the mood to be abducted by the mother-ship.

I went back inside and started lugging my stuff downstairs so it would all be ready for Manny when he got back. I watched out the front windows, trying to see what was going on over at Black Books. However, the piles of books in front of their store windows made that generally impossible. Manny didn't come back for about half an hour, but when he did came back over, he seemed more chipper than ever.

"Alright," he said, a little hop in his step. "We can bring your stuff over now."

"Bernard was okay with me staying then?"

Manny hesitated. "Uh... Yes! He said it's fine. Come to think of it, he'd like you to stay as long as you like!" He chuckled awkwardly and picked up the largest of the boxes, only to drop it right back down again, directly onto his foot.

It only minutes later that I discovered Bernard Black passed out, his face buried in an old book on his desk, a puddle of drool surrounding his mouth. I grimaced and followed Manny upstairs to my new bedroom. It was fine enough, small but tidy. It then dawned on me- my new bedroom was actually Manny's old bedroom.

"Well, Manny," I said. "Where are you going to sleep?"

Manny shrugged. "I'll just push some chairs together in the kitchen." He bid me good night and left me alone.

As I lay awake in Manny's bed (God. Never thought I'd say that... at least, not this soon, anyway.), staring at the wall, knowing that I would be evicted from this house in the morning- not by Manny, but by Bernard. I knew full-well that he had agreed to nothing.

This is all Tom's fault. I'd still be with Mark if he hadn't opened his big fat gob and told him that we'd slept together.

Sodding men.

Thank God Elle felt bad for me. With her blessing (and my promise to attend a SAA meeting tomorrow), I went back to bed, a bottle of very cheap wine under my arm. It had been quite a long time since Elle had sympathized with me. The last time she had shown any sort of understanding towards me was when...

Well, I can't actually remember when that was. But that just proves my point. It's like she's got a sodding gherkin thrust up her backside 24/7. It's such an unattractive quality. The poor girl just needs a good shag (or 12). Maybe she and that guy across the street can get stinking drunk and give it a go.

Oh dear Jesus. Horrible image in my head.

Elle came upstairs about an hour later. I had been busy staring at the wall with a wine bottle in hand when she found me.

"Elise? I need to go out for a minute," she said slowly, as if I had a learning disability or something. "Can you go downstairs? Tend the shop. You don't have to do anything, just make sure nobody comes in and steals anything, alright?"

I grunted in agreement and she helped me down the stairs. They seriously seemed like they'd become steeper and smaller since earlier that morning.

With Elle gone and the shop in my more-than-capable hands, I sat at the desk at the back of the store and looked around. I rang up Tom's bitch lovely girlfriend and left a little message on their machine.

"Hello Trish, it's Elise. Just thought I'd call and thank Tom for last night's shag-athon. Anyway, byeeeeeeee."

Ha. Ha! Hahahahahahaha. Ha. If I have to be miserable, than so shall they. HA!

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It was then that Klingon Guy came into the store, his small dark eyes scanning the book shelves. He smiled politely at me and came over to the desk. He spotted the near-empty bottle of wine on the desk and raised his eyebrows at me.

"Oh, God. Not another one," he said quietly.

Ah! It speaks English!

"Wot?!" I said, grabbing the bottle and taking another swig. I was depressed. Recently dumped. Living with my sister. I was more than deserving to be completely smashed.

"Nothing," he said. "Are you Elle Whyte?"

"God no!" I snorted with laughter. "I'm 'er sister, Elise. Who a'you?"

"Well, I'm Manny. I work with Bernard at Black Books." He shrugged. "Well, I hope to anyway. It's my first day. I'm on my lunch break right now but I thought I'd pop in and-"

I blinked at him. "That is a fascinatin' story, Mister Klingon. You should, like, save it and tell i' a' par'ies or summing. Yeah?"

Manny wrinkled his nose and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Well, I-"

"My God," I said. "You really are the strangest-looking person I've ever met. Tell me, does fungus grow on you?"

"No!"

I snorted. "Shame. You could be in, like, a text book or summing." I took another swig. "You men. What is your problem anyway?" I finished off the bottle. "Bastards."

"Well, you're obviously not in the mood to chat, so I'll just be going."

"Yeah!" I yelled after him. "Go! Get on then!"

Before he could leave, Elle showed up at the door... and right behind her was Trish, looking about ready to commit murder.