BooksBarbecue
Back Walk on the Wilder Side Save as PDF

Walk on the Wilder Side

Serena Bell
Chapters (46)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. Epilogue
  43. Excerpt from Wilder With You
  44. Also by Serena Bell
  45. Acknowledgments
  46. About the Author

Cover

Walk on the Wilder Side

Dedication

Para Aimee, Chloe, y Milagros.

1

Rachel

On the day my life goes off the rails, the first sign of trouble appears at 9:18 a.m. That’s when my boss hands me a chocolate-frosted donut and a cup of coffee.

I stare at her, confused, because Hettie has never brought me anything before, even though we share an office in the children’s department of the library. She’s a petite Black woman with corkscrew curls, a no-nonsense manner, and an iron hand. A good boss, but not a donut bringer.

She delivers the bad news quickly, like an experienced nurse giving a flu vaccine. I’ve been laid off, effective next month.

My position has been replaced city-wide by a kiosk equipped with artificial intelligence that can recommend books to patrons and read books out loud to children.

I stare at her with my mouth open. “Are you serious?”

She winces. “I’m afraid so.”

“Does the kiosk wipe their noses if they cry? Does it remind them to wash their hands after they use the bathroom? Can it shelve every book in the YA section without having to look up the series order?”

“I’m so, so sorry, Rachel.” Her face softens with pity and apology. “You’ve been amazing. The perfect employee, on every axis. You work hard, you’re good with the patrons—big and little, I can always count on you, everyone likes you. This has nothing to do with you. It’s all about money.”

“I know,” I tell her, because she looks as miserable as I feel.

“We’ll miss you so much, Rachel,” she says helplessly.

She tells me to take the rest of my notice period as paid vacation and sends me home.

I’m not one of those people who has a ton of stuff to pack up. I leave behind the office supplies, because the library never has enough money for good pens or staplers, and grab my coffee mug, my water bottle, my lip balm, my photos, and the small sign that hangs over my desk.

Stick to the Plan! it says. Then, below, in smaller letters: (First, make a plan.)

Oh, God, this so does not go with the plan!

I toss the donut in the trash can—no appetite—and drive home in a blur of panic. I’ve never not had a job. From the time I was a little kid, I was a good girl: respectful, obedient, high-achieving. I’m careful. I pay my bills early. I toe the line. I make plans. (And stick to them.) I had my first job lined up before I finished my library science program, which was part of my master plan:

  1. 4.0 in high school
  2. College
  3. Grad school
  4. Great apartment
  5. The library job of my dreams
  6. Awesome boyfriend
  7. Meet the parents
  8. Get engaged
  9. Get married
  10. Have two point five kids (I can’t decide between two and three)
  11. Live happily ever after