Behind the 8-Ball (SUBPARHEROES) by A. E. Wasp EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: A. E. Wasp
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 5.1 MB
- Price: Free
DASH
The fog rolled in on its little cat feet, as it did most mornings this time
of year in the City by the Bay, and I rolled into the Cornor Mart the
same way I did most every morning no matter what time of year it
was.
But this was no ordinary morning. Today, I was a man on a mission. The
bell rang as I pushed through the door. It wasn’t one of those electronic
chimes, but an honest-to-god tiny brass bell hanging by a string with
various charms dangling from the end. Mr. Park didn’t hold with
electronics. Said it ruined the feng shui.
I’d told him I thought feng shui was Chinese and wasn’t he Korean?
He’d shrugged without looking up from his paper, and said, “Possibly.”
Though he looked to be barely in his fifties, Mr. Park had owned the
Cornor Mart for all the thirty-five years of my life (and it had been spelled
that way for all those years) and if the old photos and yellowed Best of
Richmond plaques were to be believed, he’d been around since the
seventies at least.
Maybe he was immortal. For all I knew he was some kind of local deity
and the store was his shrine. It wouldn’t surprise me. The coffee that
dripped from ancient percolators was as much of a miracle as any I’d read
about. As I filled my cup with black gold, I said a prayer to the gods of
convenience stores that word of the coffee never spread. The last thing I
needed was an influx of tech bros and Instagram influencers posting selfies
with the coffee machines and posing beneath the dusty good luck charms
hanging from the thin metal rails of the drop ceiling.
I shuffled sideways through the narrow aisles, searching for my goal. I
didn’t dare leave without my prize. DT would “have my guts for garters” if
I did, which was a gruesome image.
If only I could remember exactly what I was supposed to be getting. I
stopped in front of the racks and hangers of candy on display and stared.
Mounds or Almond Joy?
The way I saw it, life was all about the choices you made in life. Big
ones, like, oh, whether or not to join the military, and small ones like
risking the wrath of your possibly immortal and definitely overly sensitive
best friend by buying him the wrong candy bar on this, the anniversary of
the Great Dumping.
I shoved my free hand deep into the pocket of my trench coat. The
plastic of the round ball was chilly under my fingers. No. I could remember
by myself. What candy had DT been picking out of the plastic pumpkin last
Halloween?
I registered a presence beside me, and I turned to see Mr. Park’s newest
part-time employee, Molly-June. She gave me an upward tilt of her chin in
greeting. “Hey, Mr. B. Whatcha looking for?”
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