Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
There’s a collective murmur in the media room.
“But it’s a shame, because the library has a lot of great services—and services that mean a lot to me personally because…” I pause, but only for a second or two, only because I’ve never said this out loud in public, and it’s not because I’m ashamed. It’s because there’s never been a need. But there’s a need now, so I offer up a part of myself so the public can see another side to this athlete. A more personal one. “I’m dyslexic. And libraries are doing amazing things to help everyone learn to read. They have some great initiatives going on, from offering audiobooks, to text-to-speech, to this really cool technology that reads a book to you like the sentences are words on a karaoke screen. But what they’re also doing at this branch in the Upper Haight is something called Your Next Five Reads,” I say and I’m on a roll. This is like flying down the ice on a breakaway. A clean open shot. “If you like George R.R. Martin, or If You Give a Pig a Pancake, or if you’re into classics like To Kill a Mockingbird, or books by S.A. Cosby, Kristin Hannah, or Ana Huang, there are recs for everyone, whether you read with your eyes or ears, or have the computer read to you. And to support the city’s library’s initiatives, I’m going to donate a dozen headphones to every branch of the library in the city of San Francisco. The boxes should arrive tomorrow.” I stop, give a smile, then lean into the mic. “If you’ve got a few extra bucks, maybe give it to one of these libraries. If not, go ask a librarian to suggest your next five reads. And thanks for coming tonight.”
I walk out.
Two days later, I pull up to the little library on a Friday morning. Thalia emailed me late last night and begged me to stop by. I don’t want to presume it’s anything but chatting about the volunteer work I’ve been doing.
But I also want to presume everything.
I head inside and find her on the second floor. The second she sees me, she claps. Eddie does too.
I wave my hands for them to stop, meaning it. “Stop. Seriously.”
But she shakes her head. “We’ve been inundated. Everyone’s been inundated but especially this branch since Josie started Your Next Five Reads here. Everyone is writing in and asking for book recs.”
“Thalia’s inbox is horrifying,” Eddie seconds, and he’s smirking.
“Sorry, not sorry,” I say dryly.
“Oh, you’d better not be sorry. I used the horror of my inbox to secure funding from the city. Have I mentioned donations have gone through the roof since Mister Hockey became Mister Library?”
Sunlight spreads in my chest, warming every inch of me. “Yeah?”
She nods. “And I’ve hired someone to manage it.”
Shit. Fuck. No.
That wasn’t the plan. That wasn’t the point. I mean, that’s great and all, but there’s one person who should do that instead.
Before I can even sputter out, “No, hire Josie. That was my plan,” Thalia says, “Would you like to be the one to tell my new hire that she has a permanent job here?”
55
TOP FIVE LIST
Josie
I’m helping Justine find some reliable sources on how to make the leap from working at a diner to working at a fine-dining establishment when my phone buzzes with a text. Wesley’s chime sound.
“One second,” I say, then steal a glance at the text from my boyfriend. Look at your email.
All I want to do is click on my email, but I need to finish with Justine. Five minutes later, I peel myself away, slipping behind the desk next to Penelope to check my phone.
It’s been lit up since Wesley’s speech the other night—a speech that shocked me and brought me to gloriously happy tears. Proud tears. Patrons here heard about it. Our donations increased a little bit, and the Boston team donated headphones too, following Wes’s lead.
My heart stutters as I read the first line.
Top Five Things For You To Do
1. Pick out your hottest librarian clothes.
2. Pack your bags.
3. Go to the airport.
4. Find a hockey player to collect your suitcase to take home.
5. Start your fully funded new job at the library near your home.
I gasp, shuddering out a shocked breath. My eyes widen, and I read it again and again.
“What’s going on? Did you get a coupon for deals on shoes?” The question comes from Penelope.
“Better. It’s from Wes. I got a job in San Francisco.”
Penelope beams, then sweeps out an arm toward the door. “Go!”
Two weeks later, I shuffle off the plane in San Francisco as if I’ve drunk ten espressos. Every cell is buzzing. I’m amped up. I can’t wait to race down the jetway, then fly along the concourse. But first, I have to get off this plane. It takes as long as the Pleistocene era, but eventually I make it to the jetway, and then…I run.