The Ex by Freida McFadden(21)

“There are a lot of vandals in this neighborhood,” Officer McNeil says with the wisdom of a man much older than his years. Cassie looks at his buzz cut and baby face and decides he couldn’t possibly be older than she is, but he acts like a cop with one week till retirement. “I’m surprised this is your first incident.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles.

“I’ll put in the report.” The officer holds up his notebook. “But… you know, this kind of stuff happens. At least they didn’t break anything, right?”

That’s true, but it’s hard to explain how personal this feels. Maybe he’s right—maybe it was some random kid who did it. But somehow, it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like this attack was aimed directly at her.

“That homeless woman right outside,” the officer says. “She might have seen something. Did you ask her?”

“No,” Cassie says. She doesn’t want to admit Maureen the Homeless Lady makes her nervous, and she would never willingly approach her.

“Let me go ask her then.”

Please don’t, Cassie wants to say. The officer already wrote down his report and now she wants him to leave. But he insists on questioning this homeless woman.

Cassie follows in the officer’s shadow as he marches out of the store to the nook that Maureen has made her home. She’s surrounded by unfolded dirty pieces of cardboard, both under her and behind her. She’s wrapped in a coat that is several orders too warm for the current weather, with a coat on top of her legs as well. And to her right, in a row on the pavement, are not one, not two, but three coffee cups. She looks up at the officer, the creases on her face lined with dirt, and she frowns. Cassie could imagine someone who lives on the street would be wary of cops.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Officer McNeil says.

Maureen squints at him. “Yup?”

“Someone committed an act of vandalism here last night.” Officer McNeil waves a hand at the door of the bookstore. “Did you see anything suspicious? Anyone throwing paint?”

Cassie takes a step back, her nose crinkling at the odor of urine. But she stays close, eager to hear Maureen’s answer.

“No, I didn’t, Officer!” Maureen says, grinning to show off a single tooth in her upper gums. “I didn’t see nothing! Not a thing!”

The officer frowns at her. “Are you sure about that?”

“Nope!” Maureen replies. Then she bursts out laughing. Probably at something said by the voices in her head.

Well, that was about as helpful as Cassie expected it to be.

After Officer McNeil leaves, Cassie lets out a sigh of relief. She opens up the bookstore, but there’s no one waiting to come in, so she’s free to wallow in self-pity and google ways to get paint off of glass. Sounds like some vinegar will do the trick.

Zoe arrives at the store just after lunch with what appears to be a new piercing in her nose. Her right nostril is slightly inflamed—a tiny circle of red surrounding a diamond stud. She’s glancing back at the door as she pulls off her coat. “What’s with the new décor, Cass?”

“It’s not a new décor.” Cassie rolls her eyes. “Someone threw paint on the door. If you’ll help me, we can get it off with vinegar.”

“I don’t know…” Zoe purses her lips. “I kind of like it, actually. It gives the store a little color.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to help me clean it up.”

“Could be.” Zoe grins. She’s got a crooked incisor on the left that is Cassie’s favorite thing about her. “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend the hot doctor? I’m sure he’d help you.”

“I guess he would…”

“Are you kidding me?” Zoe plunks herself down on a stool behind the desk. “The guy is so into you. He’d scrub that paint off with a toothbrush if you asked him.”

Cassie laughs. She doubts he’d scrub the paint off with a toothbrush, but he’d definitely help her if she asked him. But somehow she doesn’t want him to know about this.

“Please?” Cassie says.

“Okay,” Zoe says. “But you owe me a sandwich.”

“Deal.”

Zoe reaches into her purse and pulls out a compact. She touches up her makeup several times per shift. “You should have sandwiches here.”

“You mean like a pile of them?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, like you should make them to sell. Bookstore and sandwich shop.”

“Um,” Cassie says.

“It’s a good idea!” Zoe insists. “People love eating while they read. It’s a whole industry, and you should cash in!”

Cassie shakes her head. “I don’t know how to make food people would want to pay money for.”

“It’s not like it’s hard,” Zoe huffs. “I was at a café yesterday and got a ham sandwich, and it was just a few slices of ham, a piece of Swiss cheese, and some mayonnaise. That was it! Six dollars. I kid you not.”

“I don’t know.” Cassie bites her lip. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Well, come up with a better one then.” Zoe glances around the store through her mascaraed ‘lashes. “Because otherwise, this place is gone.”