Comic Book Store Guy Novels & Stories

I stayed until my body had stopped producing warmth, and then I dragged myself up the opposite bank and lay on the grass for a moment with my face turned to the sky. The stars were very clear. I got up. Time to heal in the human way. __________________ The shop sat at the edge of a small road. From the looks of it, it was a place that sold everything without organising any of it. It had a single white light above the door that drew moths in lazy circles. A man sat behind the counter reading something, unbothered by the odd hour. A 24 hour store. How convenient. He looked up when I came in. Slowly, his eyes narrowed, moving from my face to the soaked shirt in my hands and then he put the pape

We followed Amber into the shop, and I was immediately hit with that distinctive smell of new merchandise and plastic packaging. The place was impressive, well-organized sections for different genres, a wall of collectible figures, racks of manga in both English and Japanese, even a small café area in the back. Amber made a beeline for the shonen manga section, and Cynthia drifted after him. I was examining a display of vintage posters when I heard a familiar voice. "No way. Is that an original cel from the '98 series?" I turned slowly and found myself face to face with Bryan and Devian.

"I know how to close a deal." I walked across the parking lot. Chloe followed me. I pushed the door open. A bell jingled. The shop smelled of stale cigarettes and desperation. The shelves were filled with power tools, cheap guitars, and broken dreams. Behind the glass counter sat a man. He was huge. Bald. A spiderweb tattoo on his neck. He looked up from his magazine. He saw us. He wrinkled his nose. "Get out," he said. "I don't have change for the homeless."

I heard that he got hurt like that because they had saved a young baby that was kidnapped by the hunters, and I dared to call him a monster, no but what an idiot I am. No wonder he doesn't want to see me anymore. The store is full, as if people are more and more interested in books. I watch her without saying anything, for once she's really working, I'm not going to interfere. Sitting behind the counter, I take care of cashing the money and writing the receipts. "Hello Penelope. " I look up to see who it is. It's the man from last time. Brad? Bill? I've completely forgotten what his name is. He smiles at me, bringing out his dimples. He's really very handsome.

For a second, he paused, his brain restarting before he threw the box into the boot and turned around. Behind him were four of his friends, in their old pickup truck. Old ones anyway. Matteo, Abel, Sinclair and Lewis. What the fuck were they doing here? "What were you doing in that store?" Matteo asked, tilting his head towards it. None of your fucking business was hanging at the tip of his tongue but he decided not to get on the defensive, considering they hadn't spoken in a while. "What's wrong with it?" He stared at him like the question was stupid. "That's a literal LGBT store. It's owner only takes in his people. Hell, the receptionist who is pretty as fuck, is a guy."

Hopefully. I have just stepped off the bus when I see him. The mystery man from last night. Diablo Romano. He is walking into one of those expensive clothing stores, the kind that probably only takes appointments and not walk-ins. A beautiful dark suit rests on a mannequin in the window, looking exactly like the one he wore. Somehow, he wears it better. Above the door, the name Giuseppe's is written in gold italics. I do not even know what makes me do it. I blame my feet. I want to walk straight to college, but my feet have a mind of their own. They take me across the road, up the steps, and through the glass door of the store before I can stop myself.

I walk up to the cashier to pay. It's a young man with the stores logo stamped in his shirt with his funny looking heart. He is very handsome, he looks like a model standing behind the desk like that. He looks so out of place. “Hi,” he says to me as I start to offload my cart. “Hello, how is work?” I try to be as friendly as possible. “Good.” He says. He can't stop smiling. He checks everything and calls out the total for me. I take out my purse and pay.

Smiling, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and wandered casually down the aisle toward the sales counter, pretending the man’s shadowed face didn’t bother me. “You’re open late,” I noted, sidestepping the man’s question, “especially considering all the other stores on this street are closed.” As I neared the counter, the shadows pulled back to reveal (much to my relief) an ordinary, if slightly weathered face. With a neatly trimmed white beard matching his hair, the guy could’ve been anywhere from his late forties to early sixties. He was smiling amicably, revealing white, even teeth. “As Mr. Handy always says, you never know when someone’s going to get an itch for what they need. So we try

“Thanks. Gonna need brain-bleach to get rid of that image.” Cassie chuckles and takes a half-bow. “My pleasure.” I sigh, doing my best to repress images of Martha Wilkins (all three-hundred pounds of her) enjoying the latest Mills & Boon novel, say Midnight in the Desert, Midnight in the Summer, or, predictably, Midnight in the Harem. “All right, then. You’re free. Nothing coming until Monday morning. Got a shipment of comic books due. The York Book Emporium from Pennsylvania is sending us some of their overstock.”

"Nonsense. They know you'll be here. I figured I'd keep it a surprise so you couldn't come down with the flu before getting in the car." He laughs at his own joke then places a small kiss on my temple. His warm lips remove some of my apprehension. The store is well lit and inviting. I hate to admit I had labeled, but this isn't what I expected at all. Maybe Finn is right and I do have a horrible stereotype of his people. Whenever I envision a comic store, they're dusty, closed off, and full of people dressed up as wizards. Everyone here is casual, but normal — maybe a little heavy on the color black, but hey, it's a slimming color.