Pocketbook Holder For Table Novels & Stories

The bed sheets were crumpled with rough dents, like it had just been rolled off. Deep into the bedroom was another door, quite ajar. A closed-off office space with a large desk space and a broad, high-backed golden mahogany chair. Resting against the desk was a dark crested cane. Scattered across the tabletop were ledger pages, white documents, fountain pens, a glass holding brown liquor, and a bottle nearby. A laptop was propped open, with voices spilling from the video with several Arab men in tailored suits, seated and speaking among themselves.

Addy nodded and pointed to her sandals, saying, “Same.” Shea and Adam led the way around the edge of the large room. They headed toward a group of tables at the back. The tables were standing room only, and there was only one open table. The six of them gathered around it. Addy looked around in dismay and yelled out, “There’s not much room to put our purses.” Shea laughed and said, “The table is plenty big enough to hold everything.” Addy looked down at the small table they’d crowded around and looked doubtful as she put her purse on it.

Young, composed, carrying nothing visible. “Mr. Cross,” he said. “Counselor,” I said. He produced a tablet from his jacket. A secure document transfer interface, I recognized the platform, it operated on an encrypted peer-to-peer channel that did not touch any external server. He set it on the table between us and looked at me with the professional neutrality of someone who understood what this moment cost and was not going to make it larger or smaller than it was. I reached into my jacket.

I said. "And the outside pocket," he said. "For the survey notebook." "Yes," I said. He looked at the sketch. He touched the outside pocket drawing. "Flat so it doesn't bulk," he said. "Yes," I said. "So I can tell what page I'm on without taking it out," he said. I looked at him. "Can you?" I said. "I can feel the page through the cover," he said. "If the pocket is flat enough." He paused. "The current coat has a round bottom pocket. The notebook gets lost in it."

This was definitely a conversation I’ll need to have with him. They’re quick about it, efficient, already halfway out the door when a third figure appears behind them. This one isn’t in uniform. He’s younger, dressed casually, holding a medium-sized box tucked under one arm. Cardboard, taped neatly, unmarked except for a printed label. “Signature,” he says, offering me the tablet. I hesitate staring at the box a bit too long. It looks… familiar. Uncomfortably so. My fingers hover for a second before I tell myself not to be ridiculous. Adrian probably ordered equipment. Or décor. Or something unnecessarily expensive and impractical.

“Where are you hiding it?” I squeezed between the open door with the fish. “In the seat back pocket, he never checks it.” It was already loaded with magazines he’d probably tossed in there as an afterthought. I buried my present in the pages of one. “There.” When I came out, my tools were neatly back in their box except the ones in his hand. “You might want to move.” He ground out and looked at his tablet again. “Do you have a business meeting?” It was pretty kind of him to give his time like this. Especially since he’s been getting the cold shoulder for a couple days.

Her breath left faint ghosts on the surface of the polished glass table before her. The ledger lay there. It wasn’t a device, not a file, not anything belonging to this era of screens and encrypted servers. It was a book. Bound in something too smooth to be leather, too pale to be paper. The cover had a subtle sheen, the way skin does under candlelight, and when she lifted it, its weight felt unnatural—dense in a way that suggested it was holding more than pages. It was the kind of weight you only feel when you’re holding a body.

He then delved his hand into his suit pocket and brought out a tablet. This was the device he always carried around for me, and whenever I needed it, he gave it to me without hesitation. As he had explained to me, this device contains everything I need to accomplish tasks, including managing finances, from anywhere in the world where I find myself, and for this reason, it is always kept under his protection. Scrolling my hand on the tablet and launching one banking app out of many others that I have, “Account details,” I said confidently. Hearing me loud and clear, and as Avanna recited her account details to me, we all heard her phone ring almost immediately.

Like the walls had soaked him in over time. He closed the door behind me. The lock clicked. Something about that sound made my pulse jump. "Sit down," he said. "We have a lot to go through." The dining table was against the far wall. It was covered with things laid out in a neat row. A USB drive. A small black chip in a plastic case. A thin silver disc no bigger than a coin. A compact device that looked like a pen but wasn't. Everything arranged like tools before surgery. I pulled out a chair and sat at the dining table. He stayed standing.

“Just… this is not how I saw tonight going.” “Me neither.” His gaze dropped to her mouth again. Lingered. “But I’m not complaining.” Her breath caught. The air between them felt thicker now. Charged. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, and her thigh pressed against his under the table. Neither of them moved away this time. She noticed the wrapped book he’d set beside his plate. Small. Neatly done. “What’s that?” He looked embarrassed. Tucked it into his jacket pocket quickly. “Nothing. Just… a thing.”