But it is my fault—it’s my literal job to know these things. I’ve been focused on winning this competition and beating Ryan, rather than keeping up with the literary community.

Josie: I’m going to ask him to leave. I can’t sit here and allow him to keep spouting this disgusting rhetoric.

Georgia: WAIT!

Georgia: Looks like he’s supported by some scary people—white supremacy organizations and a group that wants to legalize corporal punishments for disobedient wives. You don’t want to upset these people. They could be dangerous.

Josie: I need to do something!

Georgia: Not while you’re alone. Is there anyone at Beans who could stand with you while you ask everyone to leave?

I peer through the bookcases forming the makeshift wall between my store and the coffee shop. Mabel is the only one working, and she’s busy ringing up a late-evening customer.

Josie: No

Georgia: What about at Happy Endings? That awful Ryan guy is tall and intimidating, right?

I almost scoff out loud. Yes, Ryan is at his store—and every glimpse I get of him brings back memories of his mouth, inches from mine, the mocking lilt in his voice, and his smirky smile. There is no way I’m asking him for a damn thing.

Josie: He won’t help me. He hates me. He’d rejoice in my downfall.

Georgia: Then just sit tight. It’ll be over soon.

Rutherford talks for another fifteen minutes, then does a Q&A, followed by a meet and greet. I spend that time looking up organizations that support individuals with disabilities—I’ll donate tonight’s profits to them. There’s no way I can keep this money.

And if Xander asks what happened? I’ll be truthful, even though it might ruin my chances of getting the head manager position.

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