Work Text:
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ,” Jessica hisses as the redhead turns to call over her friends. “Lady, I told you, I’m not Jewel. Do I look like a goddamn movie star to you?” There’s no reply, only shocked exclamations from the rapidly approaching pack of ‘fans,’ and Jessica hesitates for all of half a second before she shoves the door to the coffee shop open and practically sprints out, disappearing down the street.
Seriously, this Jewel chick has ruined her fucking life. A passing resemblance to some kind of Hollywood superstar (alright, it might be more than passing, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. They could be twins) and suddenly it’s open season on coming up to her for selfies and autographs. Her sister might eat that shit up, but Jess has no interest. One of these days, she knows it’s going to destroy a recon attempt for her PI job, and no sane jury would convict her for a violent reaction.
She might have a different definition of sane than the average juror.
S he scans the street briefly and then ducks into an innocuous looking shop, not even reading the pink and white sign. She doesn’t think her admirers are about to chase her down the street, but a little caution never hurts when it comes to not getting in fistfights at ten in the morning.
Glancing around the store, she finds walls stacked high with endless books. It’s orderly enough, everything in its place, but it still manages to be cozy, armchairs tucked into a corner with a lamp. Some of the books look secondhand, others shiny and new. She’s pretty sure Pinterest would have a fucking field day here - not exactly her style, but it could be worse. She picks a random row and walks through the shelves, scanning the selection and slowly finishing her black coffee. Romance novels, bodice rippers, definitely not her style, but she pulls one out and gets a snort of laughter out of the badly edited cover.
She feels someone’s eyes on her and looks up, finding a long mahogany desk with an ancient cash register on top of it and a woman behind it. Jess doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but her heart might just skip a beat. Her long blonde hair falls in her face, blue eyes clear and bright, and she’s leaning against the counter, a hardcover open in her hands. Her name tag reads ‘Karen’ in steady, blocky handwriting, and it...suits her, somehow, in a way that Jess doesn’t totally hate.
“Hi,” she says warmly, offering up a polite customer service smile, and Jess nods a greeting back. She suddenly feels a little out of place in this perfect, aesthetic bookstore, standing here in her old leather jacket and her scuffed up boots.
She shoves the feeling down a moment later, almost angry at herself for feeling it. That’s - bullshit. Maybe she doesn’t usually date sweet-looking women in floral button ups, but she could, or Karen could secretly be Jess’ kind of asshole, and yeah, it was never really about the store. The store’s fine. The store’s whatever. She hasn’t even said a word to this woman, why the fuck is she analyzing this to hell and back?
“You the owner?” she asks, and it sounds too blunt, but Jess didn’t wake up before noon just to second guess herself for an entire conversation.
Karen nods, slipping a bookmark onto her page, closing her book, and setting it down on the counter. Jess can’t say that she’s a prolific reader, but she’s always just dog-eared them. “I run the place by myself,” Karen says, “though the lawyers next door lend a hand every once in a while. If you have any questions, feel free to let me know.”
“Yeah, do people actually buy this crap?” Jess holds up the paperback she’d been looking at, and Karen’s lips twitch with a failed attempt to suppress a smile. If Jess was a romance novelist, she’d say that Karen’s eyes sparkle, dance, but she isn’t one, thank god.
“I know it looks cheesy, but it’s really not so bad,” she replies, walking out from behind the desk to join her in the aisle. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, right? I usually like nonfiction, histories better, but...give romance a chance. It won’t disappoint you.”
Jess looks doubtful, eyeing up the art again. It looks like someone badly cropped stock photos together of a woman in a very slinky probably polyester dress and a knight in very plastic armor, and she doesn’t know how the hell it got past any publisher. “Have you read every book in here, or did I just pick a lucky one?”
Karen smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she does. “I wish I could say that I have, but I’d need more hours in a day for that. No, you got lucky. It was a gift from a friend - he moves around the country a lot, picks up the worst-looking book he can find, and sends it to me.” She laughs at Jess’ raised eyebrows, quickly saying, “Look, he’s found some unexpected gems. And I only try to sell the good ones, I promise. My reputation for excellent recommendations is important to me, it keeps the lights on.”
She’s clearly enthusiastic about her work, or at least the reading part of it, and Jess couldn’t stop herself from being charmed by it if she tried. She doesn’t really want to try. “You’re really gonna stake your professional reputation on this one?” she says with a slight smile, warmth creeping into her voice, and god, she can’t believe she’s going to read this trashy book just because a hot nerd is telling her to.
“Definitely,” Karen confirms. “And...maybe when you’re done with it, you can come back and tell me what you thought. Or you could call me.”
Jess nods, taking a step towards the cash register. “You can write your number on my receipt, then,” she says, and Karen grins at her while she does just that.
Jess is halfway out the door, something like pop rocks or fireworks ricocheting in her stomach, when Karen calls from the counter, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a movie star?”
Jess laughs, short and surprised, and looks back at her over her shoulder. “Oh, you’ve got no fucking idea.”
(She gives romance a chance. It doesn’t disappoint her.)