by Kym Roberts
When I downloaded the app, and picked up my first clue, I thought it was kind of creepy, yet kind of cool at the same time. A 2-D map of downtown Hazel Rock appeared on my phone and gave the clue for me to follow:
A place where the dead are taken in the city of Hazel Rock.
“Seriously, Jamal. A place where the dead are taken in Hazel Rock?”
Jamal dismissed my moral outrage and focused on me utilizing the app. “That’s a good clue, Charli. All you have to do is start walking in that direction. Once you’re within close range of the book, a circle will appear on your map. If, however, you are going in the wrong direction, the red stop sign will show up and you can choose to go another direction, or you can ask for another clue.”
“Another clue? So, you just give them clue after clue?”
“No, the first clue is free. If the user locates the book, a second clue is issued. If the user doesn’t find the book, the second clue will cost them ninety-nine cents.”
“Ninety-nine cents? Holy schnikes, that’s a little high for a clue, don’t you think?”
Jamal shook his head. “You saw how easy the first clue was. There’s only a couple places you could possibly go.”
“The funeral home or the cemetery,” my dad said.
My aunt leaned over my shoulder, looking at my phone screen. “Take your pick.”
Daddy stayed at the store while Jamal and I exited with my aunt following close behind. We walked down Main Street toward the funeral home, watching the map on my phone the entire way. It was a fairly crude map with all the buildings blended into the grass, but the roads were mapped out well in a bright pink.
“Is there a reason why you chose pink streets?” I asked as we walked toward the Tool Shed Tavern’s parking lot.
Jamal smiled. “It was pretty brilliant, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
“I chose the color for the Book Barn Princess. That way it’s branded for your store.”
“But what about other bookstores? Won’t they want branding too?”
“If another bookstore wants to pay for advertising, they can have some variations to the programming in their area. It’s another way for the app to bring in cash.”
I stopped and looked at my cousin despite the drizzle starting to fall. “Are you charging me a fee?”
“Get out!” Jamal bumped me with his hip. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
I bumped him right back, letting my boney hip hit his thigh. “Good to know blood counts for something.”
We made our way past the Shed toward the little white ranch-style house with a porte cochére over the circular drive at the front doors. As we approached, a pink armadillo appeared on the screen of my phone and ran toward the funeral home.
“That’s Princess.” Jamal pointed to the pink armadillo vector and I showed my aunt, who was having a hard time not bragging about her boy throughout the entire walk. I could tell it made my cousin feel proud, despite his protestations about her praise.
I was also very proud. But again, I couldn’t help but think the whole thing was a little creepy.
We walked up the drive, and a book appeared on my screen in front of the fountain in the grass circle: Elvis and the Dearly Departed by Peggy Webb. The cover displayed the image of a dog spilling a casket onto the ground. It was a cozy mystery that I was pretty sure we had in our mystery section in the store. I looked up at Jamal. “Do I have this book in stock?” I asked.
A smile spread across his face, his eyes twinkled, and he winked. “Of course you do. Why else would you be able to choose that book?”
“But how did you know that?”
“Remember when you had the inventory system set up and you asked me to log on and check it out for you?”
“You kept my access info,” I accused. “You’ve been hacking into our system for months!”
Jamal’s eyes held a devilish glint. “It’s not hacking if someone gives you permission to access the information.”
A wide, pink bookshelf capped with two angled wood planks forming a roofline on top, appeared on my phone. The shelves were empty, but the shape was immediately identifiable as a pink barn. I was suddenly liking his app a lot. Jamal had even included a short blurb about the book if the user was interested. All I had to do was tap the book on my shelf. It was brilliant. Jamal was brilliant. I’d known he was smart, but this was marketing at its best and it could increase the Barn’s business tremendously. But I didn’t want to get too excited because if this was the end, it wasn’t quite enough.
“What do I do now?” I asked.
“You file it on your bookshelf, tap the arrow, and you’ll get another clue.”
“Just like that? I don’t have to purchase it or do anything else?”
“Not if you collect the book and put it on your bookshelf. If you’re unable to find the book, though, you must buy another clue before you can advance.”
“Okay, so the reward is another clue, but what’s the end game? What makes a player want to continue?”
“That’s up to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can have your customers earn a prize at the end—for example, you have a book signing coming up. What if you gave away a special meet and greet with Lucy Barton?”
I almost jumped with excitement. Despite my attempts to hide my enthusiasm, it was beginning to bubble over. In fact, I was buying Jamal’s sales pitch hook, line, and sinker. Yet I still had questions. “How many books will they have to collect to win the meet and greet? And how many people would win it?”
“That’s entirely up to you. I can set it to meet your needs.”
“If I only wanted to have one winner, I could say… make them collect fifteen books?”
Jamal turned serious, knowing he had me on the line. He didn’t want to leave any slack that would enable me to escape. “I would have them collect more than that. Probably thirty to fifty books.”
“Thirty to fifty books! That could be expensive.”
“That’s how I make money, and that’s how you’re guarantee that a real fan meets your author.”
I was starting to see the downside that might drive customers away from the Barn. “But who’s going to put all that information into the program? How would the app control the data, and what about the other people who don’t win?”
“If you wanted to have them win something, you could have bonus prizes when they collected ten books on their shelf, then twenty books, and thirty books and so on.”
My skepticism was rising. Jamal’s app could get expensive for the Barn if we were giving away that much product. “What kind of bonus prize?”
It was my aunt’s turn to brainstorm. “What if you gave them a piece a book art, or a coupon for 10 or 20 percent off their next book purchase?”
I thought about it for a moment. “We could do that pretty easily.”
My aunt linked her arm in Jamal’s, pleased as southern punch with how well this was going.
“But then we only have three winners. Do we start all over again?” I asked. “I mean, it’s not like we’re going to have a best-selling author signing at the store every week.”
“No, but that’s the beauty of it. It becomes an advertising platform for special events. The rest of the time, you could offer a free book or just the coupons. Readers will eat that up, especially if you’re offering a new release. Gamers will play just to play, no real prize necessary as long as they can post their library size and compete against other users.”
As much as I wanted to jump on board, I was still a little bit skeptical. “The app looks like a lot of fun…”
“But…” Jamal drew the word out like he knew there was a “no” coming.
“But it looks like it would be very labor-intensive.”
“It’s not. The game updates itsel
f. Not every book will be in it—you choose whether you want to have a contest or not. And if a bookseller has a signing—”
I saw where he was going. “They contact you, and you make money.” Another obstacle crossed my mind. “What if they want to purchase an e-book? It won’t do me any good if all the people playing the app purchase the book from another seller.”
“Scroll down on the blurb.”
I did as I was told and saw a buy link at the very end and smiled. “This goes to the Barn’s website!”
“You’re getting the hang of it, cuz.” Jamal’s face lit up like he was proud of his baby.
And I couldn’t help but be proud of him. I smiled, letting him know he’d finally won me over. “You got yourself a deal.”
I collected my book and put it on my bookshelf. A new screen appeared on my phone with the clue:
Best place for breakfast in Hazel Rock.
“Looks like we’re eating at the diner.” I grabbed my cousin and my aunt and headed back toward the store. Once we got Dad to close the Barn for lunch, we could head over to the diner.
“How are we going to get the media to launch the app?” I asked.
Jamal hesitated and my aunt chimed in as we reentered the Barn. “We thought your connections to the local government would help.”
“Excuse me?” I knew there was a catch.
“The mayor?” she prodded. “What’s his name?”
Dad walked over to us. He looked at me with sympathy in his eyes. This was the hitch I’d been waiting for. The one drawback that would make this deal unsuccessful.
“Cade won’t do me any favors. He’s picky about what he’ll back and what he won’t as the mayor of Hazel Rock.” Not to mention he was avoiding me like the plague.
“What about Penelope? She’d do it in a heartbeat,” my dad suggested.
I may have choked on his words. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“It couldn’t hurt to have the ex-first lady of Hazel Rock in your corner.” My aunt moved closer, anxious to hear the word yes pass through my lips.
“But she’s Cade’s mom,” I whined. “How can I possibly ask her to promote something for our business?”
Daddy increased the pressure. “Well, since she’s coming in this afternoon to get her ticket to see Lucy Barton, I think she’s the perfect front person for the promotion.”
“How does she know Lucy is going to be here? We just found out.”
“Word travels fast in Hazel Rock, it always has,” my aunt added.
“But…” I looked to Daddy for support. He had to understand how hard this request was for me. Except he had one of those devilish grins on his face that he seldom wore.
“You called her, didn’t you?” I accused.
Daddy grabbed a rag from behind the counter and began wiping the already clean surface. “Why would I do that?”
Jamal stepped up and placed his arm around my shoulder. “This is my chance, Charli. I’ve already had so many people try to buy it. I know it’s going to work. This could put the Book Barn Princess on the map of Texas. It could make you a national treasure. Think about it.” His voice brimmed with his excitement. “People from all over the country will want to come to the Barn for book signings, or to just browse through the loft. You wouldn’t just have national exposure; you’d have worldwide exposure.”
He pulled his arm away, and I suddenly felt like that seventeen-year-old girl who made a half-cocked decision to run away when life wasn’t as perfect as I’d expected it to be.
“If you don’t do it,” he said, “I’ll have to find another bookstore owner who is willing to take a chance and see this thing through. Because it will work and it will be successful. It’s just a matter of getting the right launch with the right author and the right store to allow us to work out all the kinks. Lucy Barton is all in, can I count on you to be as well?”
I looked to my dad to make sure he really wanted this for our store; that I wasn’t hanging him out to dry because of my cousin’s dreams. He squelched that thought in an instant.
“It’s what we’ve been working for,” he said gently.
Actually, it was what he’d been working for, not me. And if he wanted to try it…
I looked back and forth between my cousin and my dad. Then to my aunt. There was hope in her eyes, yet at the same time, understanding if I chose not to sign on to my cousin’s business plan. And it was that look that pushed me over the edge.
“Let’s do it.”
“Get out! Seriously?” Jamal’s face froze, as if he was too afraid to believe I’d acquiesced to the idea. Then nervous energy rumbled through his body. He bounced from foot to foot, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes sparkled as a grin, dying to be exposed, spread across his face.
“You have yourself a guinea-pig business, and”—I held my hand up like a student volunteering for the job no one else wanted—“a sucker for a cousin.”
He charged me and smothered me in a real bear hug, the kind that makes your life flash before your eyes. And I could have sworn he said, “Who’s going to be just as filthy rich as I am.”
But I could be wrong. At that moment, I was struggling to breathe.
Chapter Four
“Why is my mother scheduling a press conference in front of the Book Barn Princess tomorrow?”
I jumped at the sound of Cade’s voice—the voice I’d been longing to hear. Then swallowed down the emotions that wanted to rise from the pit of my feminine ego. By the time I turned away from the box of books I was unloading, my composure was solidly intact.
Somehow, he’d snuck into the store without me hearing the swish and ding at the front door. Nor had I felt the chilly breeze that should have proceeded Cade’s arrival. Cade Calloway. The town high school football legend. The ex-NFL quarterback. The newly reelected town mayor. And my ex-high school sweetheart, who promised to take me out to dinner after his reelection two weeks earlier, was standing with his arms crossed over his chest and a stern look on his face. Not a hint of a smile.
My composure flew out the window. A tinge of hurt laced my words. “Wow, that’s a dandy way to say good morning.”
He sighed. His large body relaxing ever so slightly, but the wariness remained. “Good morning, Princess. How are you doing?”
“Funny you should ask …” I grabbed hold of that anger I’d felt when he’d ducked out of sight without stopping at the store the day before. “Because if I’d waited to eat dinner in the past two weeks, I’d probably be dead.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.” His answer was too quick and lacked explanation. So much for being afraid he’d lose me forever.
“You’re a rooster that’s all crow and no tail feathers, Cade Calloway.”
He rubbed his jaw as if I’d hit him with a left hook. “I deserve that.”
“Ya think?” My sarcasm got the best of me. I didn’t like the way I sounded, but since he hadn’t called in two weeks, I’d decided I could cut myself a little slack.
He capitulated too easily. “I know I do…and I’m sorry.”
I turned back to my box, afraid I’d forgive him too soon. Afraid he’d turn on that Calloway charm and I’d once again be lost in the depths of that passionate blue-green sea hidden in his gaze. Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could see his eyes so vividly in my mind. Then I remembered the specks of golden fire that flashed through his irises—I could get burned.
Drowning in his beautiful eyes would be extra stupid, no matter how good he smelled. Especially since he wasn’t attempting to make it up to me by taking me out to dinner. At that moment, I knew he wasn’t going to ask. Our past was in the past. I accepted my disappointment and covered it with business.
“What can I do for you, Cade?”
“Can you tell me why my mom is having a news conference in front of your store tomorrow
morning?”
“She’s helping out an old friend with a business venture. Beyond that, I can’t help you.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?” Cade’s voice softened. He’d moved closer and his fresh, clean scent tortured my sanity.
I hardened my resolve. “I won’t.”
“Look, Princess—” he started.
“I’m kind of busy, Cade. I’ve got a lot going on today. So, if you’ll excuse me…” I let my dismissal hang in the air.
“Can I come by later this evening?”
I turned to find him crowding me. Using the chemistry we’d always shared against me. “What for? I don’t think we have anything else to say to each other.”
“We have plenty to say, Princess.”
He moved closer and I could feel the heat of his body and the warmth of his breath. We were too darn close for comfort.
I turned back to my work, forgetting which pile I’d made for mysteries, which pile was for romances, and which pile was for the action adventure books. Maybe I should just combine them all and create my own new genre. I scrunched my eyes closed, hoping Cade would disappear and the piles of books would make sense the moment I peeked out from the darkness.
When I opened my eyes, I found everything the same and Cade was still there…behind me. I didn’t have to see him. I felt his disturbance in the air. Fuzz buckets.
I’d have to go through sorting the books all over again once he left, otherwise the readers in my military section might get action of the bedroom variety instead of a battlefield. Mr. Draper would be displeased if he found Fifty Shades of anything in the midst of World War II literature.
“Princess.” Cade’s hands were on my shoulders turning me around, and I did nothing to stop him. I was foolish when it came to Cade Calloway. He was my Alamo.
I dared to look up into his gaze and saw my own feelings mirrored right back to me. If he was my Alamo, then I was his Santa Anna. In that moment, I was ruined.
