A Misunderstanding with an Enraged Mother

A Last Word story

It is rare for all of the staff to be on duty at The Last Word Bookstore on a Thursday night, but this is no ordinary Thursday night. Through an analysis that is as much alchemy as accounting, Camden and Sal have determined that there needs to be a seismic shift in the inventory that the store carries, and this shift requires all hands on deck if they are to be ready for the weekend.

Entire sections will be eliminated in this restructuring, from all of the science and math to automotive repair to foreign language instruction. These have been very small selections from the start, but much to Ben’s delight they will be jettisoned completely in favor of more science fiction/fantasy titles.

“We have sold exactly zero math books in the last year,” Camden says.

“Big shock,” Sal replies.

Gardening will remain, biographies will be reduced, and all sports not baseball or golf removed. The history section will switch its focus to military history and volumes with pictures and maps. The computer science section will be replaced by poetry and local authors.

Not all of the proposed changes are accepted cheerfully, however. Though Jacob’s rare and collectible area will be only slightly altered to allow for more current fiction, he is vociferous in his opposition.

“Why not just throw me out in the street and get it over with?” he asks when his most recent objection is overruled.

“Because we love you,” Camden replies without a hint of sarcasm. “In fact, we are looking at renovating the store next year and creating a completely separate room for your section.”

Jacob’s jaw drops.

“A separate room?” he asks in astonishment. “With walls and a door? You mean a real rare book room of my own?” He sounds like a child who has been given his own bedroom after years of bunking with unruly younger siblings.

“That is our hope, yes,” she says. “Sal suggested it, and I think it’s a fine idea.”

This puts an end to Jacob’s objections.

The process of reorganizing the store actually begins well before closing time, but it is a slow night and thus not very disruptive to the few customers who come and go. Thirty minutes before closing time, three men enter the shop; they do not look like the type who read. One is in his late-20s and wears a suit that clearly cost several thousand dollars. He has an olive complexion and his hair is perfect in a way that only weekly trips to a salon can achieve. His eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses; he is obviously the leader of this small band.

Flanking him are two much larger men in much cheaper suits. They have faces that have seen the impact of fists thrown in anger more than once, and they scan the store with practiced precision. They also wear dark glasses.

“I am looking for Salvatore Terranova,” the leader says in a voice much softer than you would expect.

Julia’s stomach tightens. She knows these men are definitely not police officers, and the alternative is not good. Before she can speak, a voice comes from behind her.

“Nicky Garrafolo,” Sal says, walking straight past her and up to the man. “What the hell are you doing in Texas?”

“I could ask you the same thing, my friend,” he answers. He does not extend his hand or make any other move toward Sal. He simply nods to one of his companions, who turns back and opens the front door.

An attractive woman strides through the door, looking around quickly. She could be anywhere from mid-30s to mid-50s; it is simply impossible to tell. When she sees Sal, her dark eyes flash with fury.

“There you are, you son of a bitch,” she growls, moving within inches of him. Sal holds his ground.

“Hello, Lorraine,” he says pleasantly. “How’ve you been?”

“How have I been?” she repeats, her voice growing louder. “You mean, how have I been since you ran out on me?”

“We have discussed this, Lorraine,” Sal says, his tone level. “You never told me Nicky was your son.”

“And that matters why, exactly? Because I’m not as young as you thought?”

“Again, that has nothing to do with it. The fact that your son is the head of the biggest Family in Philly does matter, though. Surely you can see that.”

“I most certainly cannot see that,” she replies. “I don’t answer to him. I’m his freaking mother, for Christ’s sake.”

“But I did answer to him, at least when I did business in Philadelphia. That made the situation a little uncomfortable. Plus, it could be seen as disrespectful to Nicky.”

“Whatever,” Lorraine says with a dismissive wave. “You apparently don’t care about disrespecting me.”

“I explained everything to you,” Sal says, his exasperation showing through his calm exterior.

“Right,” she says sarcastically. “No sleeping with the Don’s mother, blah blah blah.”

As this back-and-forth continues, Julia moves over to where Ramon and Ben are standing. If there is going to be trouble with Nicky and his men, they are the only help Sal will have. She whispers something to Ben, who smiles and nods. Suddenly Camden appears from the back and walks quickly to Sal’s side.

“What is going on here?” she asks.

“I’m handling it,” Sal replies.

“Is this what you threw me over for?” Lorraine asks, looking Camden up and down. “A scrawny English bimbo? I expected better from you, Sal.”

“Wait just a minute!” Camden yells. She starts to move toward Lorraine, but Sal holds her back.

“Actually, this is my cousin,” he says. “You need to apologize. And leave.”

“Apologize hell,” she spits back at him. “And I’m not going anywhere until I find out which one of these bitches is so great you’d choose them over me. Maybe the librarian over there?” She gestures toward Julia.

Sal looks to Nicky for help, but he simply smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

“Fine,” Sal says. “If it will get you to stop causing a disruption in my store — ”

Before he can say another word, Ben is at his side. He places his hand on Sal’s shoulder.

“She’s not going to understand, Sally,” he says in a feminine voice that Sal has never heard before. He then gently strokes Sal’s hair.

Sal stares at him, unable to respond. Behind Lorraine, Nicky is smiling more broadly. Lorraine’s eyes widen as she grasps what Ben means.

“Oh my God!” she exclaims. “You’re gay!”

“Lorraine — ” Sal tries to interrupt, to no avail.

“It makes total sense,” she continues. “I knew the whole thing about offending Nicky was crap. You left me because you like guys. Well, I’m good, but even I can’t compete with that.”

Without another word she turns and walks out the door, one of the goons following behind her. Sal steps away from Ben.

“What the hell was that?” he asks.

“That was your friend saving your ass, Sal,” Nicky says. “He gave my mother an out and she took it, whether she really believes it or not. Now she’ll go home to the 21-year-old Dominican pool boy she’s been banging since you left.”

Sal turns from Ben — who is now laughing hysterically — to Nicky.

“Wait a minute,” he says. “If she’s got a new toy, why does she care about me?”

“She doesn’t. Or at least she didn’t until I told her I found you. I’m the one who cares, and I need to put this ‘misunderstanding’ of yours behind us.”

“Why?” Sal asks suspiciously.

“Because I want you to come home,” Nicky says, finally removing his dark glasses to reveal big brown eyes. Ben winks at him and walks away.

“Again,” Sal says. “Why?”

“You were one of my best earners, and you’re not even part of my Family. Don’t waste your time in this hick town. Come home.”

“I like this town,” Sal replies. “And I am home.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Plus, they rarely toss you in prison for selling books.”

Nicky shakes his head sadly.

“That’s a shame,” he says. “But I had to at least ask.”

“That’s it?” Sal replies. “You come all the way down here, then no threats, no offers of big payoffs, nothing?”

“I don’t threaten, I don’t promise, and I don’t beg,” Nicky says flatly. “You say you’re done, then you’re done. But if I ever hear any different — ”

“Right,” Sal says. He has closed a door that cannot easily, or painlessly, be reopened. “Take care of yourself, Nicky.” This time, they shake hands.

“One more thing,” Nicky says. “I’ve been seeing this Russian dancer who likes to read, and I thought I might give her something by Stroganoff or Yastrzemski or somebody like that.”

“Turgenev or Dostoyevsky?” Sal corrects him.

“Whatever,” Nicky says. “It just needs to be expensive. You got a rare book room in this place?”

“Not quite yet,” he says, motioning for Jacob to join them. “But I think we can help you out anyway.”

If you’d like to read more about Sal, Julia, and the rest of the misfit booksellers at The Last Word, you can check out the series here. All of the titles are now also available in audiobook versions.