Confessions of a Bookseller

By Robin Soma Dudley

Sallanda “Sally” Myers struggles with doubts about her looks, her intelligence, and her self worth. Sally has just graduated from a prestigious west coast university however, she has no idea what she wants to do next. She has no job and no prospects of one.
Sally’s best friend Denisha is offered a well-paying career position in Baltimore. After urging from Denisha, Sally accompanies her to Baltimore to keep her company while Sally gets her life together.
Shortly after arrival in Baltimore, Sally picks up a job application from a big bookstore chain called Broken Spines and fills out the application in a fit of depression after watching Denisha leave for her first day of work. To her surprise, she is offered a position as a bookseller. What happens next is a journey that Sally never expected, filled with quirky fellow booksellers, even quirkier customers and love interest. Can a pop culture obsessed self described slacker find meaning in her life as a bookseller? Only Sally knows where this path will take her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robin Soma Dudley
• Release date: Jun 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458173225

Robin Soma Dudley

Since grade school Robin has been writing. She wrote her first complete novel in high school and since then has been writing treatments to put aside to work on later. Later became a full time career and living on both coasts and in Canada. Currently, Robin lives in Annapolis, MD with her husband Mike, her two children and her rescued Jack Russell Terrier, Jackson.

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Confessions of a Bookseller

By

Robin L. Soma-Dudley

Copyright© Robin Soma-Dudley 2011

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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This is a work of fiction. Any names. places or characters are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to people living or dead or locales are purely coincidental.

To Michael, Betsy and Kevin, who without your continual support and encouragement I would have never persevered. I love you all.

Graduation Day

As I sit in the sun, I reflect, why in the world do they make us wear these hideous outfits?? The color is a heat absorbing dark blue made from an unforgiving polyester. My God, do they want us to die of heat exhaustion? Well, why not kill us? We already gave this institution of higher learning our heart, soul and all our future worldly goods, so why not our bodies? Maybe they can use them as cadavers for the medical school? Oh my God, I’m delusional. I swear it’s the heat. Well at least the sun is out. It could be raining. I don’t even want to think about that.

The only redeeming quality about being in this polyester sauna is that I may sweat off a few pounds. Lord, knows I need it. The only problem is that I hate to sweat. That’s why I don’t do any type of vigorous exercise. I’m a yoga girl, if that. That’s my idea of a work out.

When I sweat it does two things to me. One, it makes my wavy brown hair, which takes me almost an hour in the morning with the help of three different hair products and two electrical apparatus to straighten, become even wavier. Two, it makes my naturally slightly oily skin look as if BP came by for a visit. In other words, my skin turns from a slight glow to an oil slick that would rival anything in the Gulf. You would think after living my entire life with my mother (I’ll get to that later), in the sun, rain, fog and humidity of the San Francisco Bay Area I’d be able to deal with it, but I can’t. Oh and three, I just hate exercise, especially running. It’s the same as torture. I believe that instead of the rack during the Spanish Inquisition, they should’ve made them jog.

My name’s Sallanda Myers, but almost everyone calls me Sally, except when I’m in trouble then of course it becomes Sallanda Carolyn Myles. My horrible first name is due to my mother. My mother was just turning sixteen when she had me – literally. Her water broke while she was blowing out the candles on her cake at her sweet sixteen party, much to the shock of my grandparents. You see, my mom hid her pregnancy well. She had convinced my grandparents that she was getting chunky. Hmm, they bought it or maybe it was denial. Denial is an amazing thing and my grandparents used to be the king and queen of denial. Anyway, even though my mom knew she was pregnant, she still had a sweet sixteen party (even at that tender age my mother couldn’t pass up a party) and after two days of labor, she had me.

After much badgering from her parents, my mom finally confessed that she had sex with Sal Allanda, a seventeen-year-old Latino boy who worked at the hot dog stand at the beach. Thus, my name Sallanda (you got to love how the sixteen year old mind works. If I had a baby at sixteen her name would’ve been Luna or Hermione from Harry Potter). Just think. I’m named after some hot dog selling gigolo. With a start like that it’s a miracle I made it through college.

Yes, this is my college graduation. Soon, I’ll be getting a BS in psychology and with my family, what other degree would be appropriate? What I’ll do with my life? Well, I have no idea. All I know is that I need to get out on my own.

Don’t get me wrong, even with my mom’s rough start, I’ve had a good life. My mom really didn’t raise me, she kind of befriended me. My grandparents did the raising and they were actually pretty good at it. Which really is a miracle considering my mother. They may have realized all their prior mistakes with my mother and did better with me. On the other hand, possibly, they were always decent parents, but had a single-minded headstrong daughter, who was going to do whatever she wanted anyway. I don’t know which it was, but they’ve always stood by and loved me. And sometimes, maybe they loved me a little too much.

Actually, I really shouldn’t criticize my mother. She’s done well in her life, very well, in fact. After my mom had me, she finished high school and then went to beauty school. Growing up, I remember my mom as this always busy, well respected hair stylist, but along the way…WHAM!!! Her career took off. Now, she owns the most popular day spa in Northern California. People pay hundreds of dollars to come to her spa and not just any people, either, some are famous. I mean people like Danielle Steel, Faith Hill, even my favorite Star Trek character, Deanna Troi came to her spa, during her Next Generation hey day. My mom also writes a beauty column for a popular woman’s magazine and she’s on the local news once a week right behind a medical segment. She even did a beauty segment on The View once - that TV show with Barbara Walters and the other women. All this success from a woman who named her daughter Sallanda, huh, go figure…

So here I sit, in this hot sun, hoping the humidity won’t frizz my hair, waiting for the official, you have graduated blessing, and I keep wondering what in the world will I do with the rest of my life?

Well, I do know one thing. I won’t be going into my mom’s business. She wants me to go to cosmetology school and become part of the Day Spa Diva culture.

Sally, if you won’t work for me, my granddad said to me the other day, At least get your master’s degree in something, if not psychology. I’ll even pay for it. Really, I think, more school… ugh!

And then chimes in my grandmother, well, she just worries because I don’t have a serious boyfriend. I tell you, Grandmas! I suppose she does have reason to worry. I’m not the most proficient in the boyfriend area, but that’s for another time.

Speaking of time, I think I just need time to think, I need to be my own person. I need to be out on my own without the constant vigilance of my family. I need to be able to go out the door without makeup on and without my mother reprimanding me on my lack of style, every once in awhile.

My best friend or BFF as so many people say today, Denisha Sampson, or Nisha as I like to call her, got a job offer from some company in Baltimore, Maryland. She wants me to drive out to the East Coast with her and live with her while I get my life together. I told her I would think about it. Well, sitting in 100 degree heat with 80% humidity, waiting to get a piece of paper, helps you think…and I think, why not? Moving to Baltimore doesn’t sound so bad. It would be 3,000 miles between my family and me. A life on an opposite coast so my mom won’t see my hair, my makeup, or my clothing. My grandmother won’t scrutinize my dating choices or lack there of and my granddad can still send me brochures from different schools to get an advanced degree. This could be a grand idea. Well, grand for me at least. Oh God, I hope they’ll still love me after I break the news.

Standing up now- I’ve just graduated… Woot??!!

Later That Evening

So Sally, you made a decision yet? Nisha asks, looking up from the movie. Denisha is sitting on the sofa next to me wearing her favorite casual outfit, a pair of black sweat pants, white tight t-shirt that shows off her medium-sized chest and her flat stomach, and a matching hoodie jacket. Her usually perfectly coiffed black shoulder length hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She’s also wearing her schoolboy horned-rimmed glasses that enhance her mocha colored smooth skin and big brown eyes. I’ve always admired Nisha’s skin not only for its even tone, but for the fact she barely ever gets a blemish, unlike myself who’s skin would look comparable to the surface of the moon without the help of great day spa skin care. As I look at Nisha with her heart shaped face, perky nose and bright eyes, I think how unfair it is that she always looks so together. Even after a day of exhausting pomp, circumstance, humidity and sun, she looks smart, lively and studious. Those are the three best adjectives to describe my BFF, unlike my own which would be confused, dazed, and slacker.

Yet, Denisha and I have many things in common and one of them is Star Trek. This is our total Star Trek geek out time. Yes, go figure. This, the night of our college graduation, are we out partying all night? No. We’re in the family room at my house, watching a Star Trek marathon. We’re currently on Star Trek IV, by far the best one in the movie series.

About what? I say, temporarily avoiding the issue. I’m very good at avoiding issues.

Come on girl, can’t you make one commitment in your life? Come with me to Baltimore. You know you want to. And you‘ll get a chance to, you know… Nisha stalls, not completing her sentence. I feel that she doesn’t want to offend me. This would be a first for Nisha, I think. She usually has no problem speaking her mind with me and about me.

A chance to what? I say, still trying not to confront this issue. I’m the LeBron James of issue avoidance. This and me being non-confrontational. These two skills have served me well.

Find yourself. Nisha looks at me over the rim of her glasses. I can see the reflection of the Golden Gate Bridge from the movie in her glasses. How interesting, I think, she’s telling me to move across country with her and yet I see a symbol of my home in her eyes.

Find myself, I think. Is it possible to move 3,000 miles away and find something, including yourself? I look at my best friend and nod my head, Yeah, I’ll go.

‘Charm City’ here we come, she shouts while hugging me.

I hug her back, suddenly feeling slightly sick to my stomach about the future, which is scaring me to death. In addition, I’m thinking when did Baltimore ever get the nickname Charm City? Where does Nisha get this stuff?

Moving Day: Part One

Grandma won’t stop crying. The woman is driving me crazy. She gave me a cell phone, even though I already had one. I’ve got a smart phone, but my Grandma has presented me with a cell phone that looks like it was made in the year 2000. I told her I had a cell phone, but she explained to me that I didn’t have to pay for this one and that it’ll be good in an emergency. I don’t know, I think, looking at it closely maybe some areas of the USA are still on analog. Therefore, Nisha and I have dubbed it the Grandma phone. Grandma says I need it to call her everyday, while on the road. Call her everyday? When I was living with her, I didn’t see her everyday. Why does she want me to call her everyday? She also secretly put 5,000 dollars in my bank account. I withdrew the money and gave it back to her, but she just turned around and put the money back in again. She called it walking around money. Walking around money, my God, I’m pretty sure that if I walk around Baltimore with 5,000 dollars in my pocket, I won’t be walking for long.

Well, the rest of the family isn’t any better. Granddad called a friend of his in the Baltimore area, and hooked us up with a nice and safe place to live. He also bought me a car that’ll be waiting for me in Baltimore.

My mom didn’t speak to me for three days after I told her I was moving. For the next two weeks, she would break out in tears every time she saw me. This was amazing because every time she cried, she’d have to run into the bathroom and redo her eye make up. Now, she just whimpers a bit. She said something about how she and Grandma took care of things at the new apartment. I’m not sure what that means. Then, she told me to friend her on Facebook. Oh no, I think.

After all the hugs, kisses and tears, I climb into Denisha’s brand new Passat and smile. She laughs, Man, sure looks like I’ve got the right roommate.

Baltimore, here we come. Charm City, as Nisha calls it, here we come. I looked up on the Internet why they call Baltimore - Charm City. All I found is that the city is so charming. I hope that Baltimore itself will yield more answers.

Salt Lake City, Utah

Ugh!!! What can I say? This is Utah. Sure, you have the beauty of the desert, whatever that means, and the Great Salt Lake. But all we’ve seen thus far is flat brown land and road. All we’ve heard on the radio is Country and Western (C&W) music. Nisha says C&W gives her hives, so we’re now listening to ‘70s funk music. Nisha says that she spent her childhood listening to this type of music and I have to admit Parliament/Funkadelic jams like One Nation under a Groove makes the desert go faster.

We’ve decided to stop at a Holiday Inn outside of Salt Lake City. A Holiday Inn is a Holiday Inn. There’s something soothing about the smashing retro décor. When I look at the room done up in an array of gold and orange, I think, aren’t colors like blue or mauve for sleep? I guess this Holiday Inn didn’t get the memo.

We decide to go to a Karaoke bar after we have dinner. All they are playing is C&W music. I think I might have to take Nisha to a hospital and give her an epinephrine shot, but luckily, a few JD and Diet Cokes cure that. Suddenly, the C&W music doesn’t sound so bad and after a while, we’re both singing to Carrie Underwood songs. I must say in my mind we sound pretty good and look pretty sexy. I guess sexy enough because these two guys try to pick us up, but Nisha tells them we’re lesbians. The guys say that’s fine with them. They’d love to see a little girl on girl action.

Maybe Utah isn’t as conservative as people think. Or maybe in a state in which the most prominent religion once condoned polygamy, there are many lesbians. We leave quickly anyway, not wanting to give those rednecks a thrill.

When we get back to the room, I have about seven messages on my Grandma phone. Oh shit, I think, I forgot to call her. I need to sober up a bit before I call Grandma. Also, I need to make sure Nisha is alright because she’s throwing up in the bathroom. Too much JD or too much Diet Coke, I’m not sure which it is. Right when I’m going to check on Nisha the phone rings. Caller ID reveals the source of the call. Grandma, I sigh and answer it.

Hi Grandma, I say, distracted by my concern for Nisha.

Grandma sounds exasperated, Why haven’t you called? Are you stuck somewhere on the side of the road?

I wince as though she’s here in front of me. I hate making my grandmother worry. She’s always overly concerned about me. I guess she had to make up for my mother’s more lackadaisical view of Motherhood.

No Grandma, I’m fine. I just wanted to get something to eat, and like, rest a bit, I say, hoping my slight intoxication isn’t obvious in my voice.

Oh, so what’re you doing? Grandma asks, seeming satisfied with my explanation. I sigh with relief. Then Nisha starts moaning loudly from the bathroom. I’m talking about a moan that sounds like a wounded animal that’s close to death.

What’s that sound? Is that the TV? Are you watching porn? Grandmother asks rapidly.

Once again, I cringe. My mind flashes, what would upset her more, Nisha being sick after a night of JD and Karaoke or porn on TV? Hmm…

Yeah Grandma, it’s porn. I turned it on by accident. I say quickly. Where does this stuff come from?

I hear Grandma gasp, Well, turn it off. Nisha lets out another groan from the bathroom. The noise sounds more like a scene from Animal Planet than a drunken college grad. Or porn as my grandmother thinks.

I will Grandma. Gotta go take care of the porn, I hang up quickly, not even bothering to say good-bye. I throw down the cell phone and run into the bathroom to take care of my best friend.

Somewhere in Fucking Mid-America

Have they not heard of a Starbucks in any of these towns? This is fucking America, aren’t Starbucks like McDonalds now? Please, all I want is a decent double tall nonfat latte. I could scream from my lack of decent caffeine. Trust me, the coffee we had this morning at the IHOP, just didn’t quite cut the macchiato. They make good pancakes at IHOP, but lousy coffee. Now it’s true, after a night of Karaoke and JD, a Rooti-Tooti Fresh and Fruity really hits the spot. I enjoyed every bite. Even with my mom’s voice in my head reminding me of how many points were in that scrumptious, carb-loaded breakfast… HA!! I love being on my own.

My mom, besides being the Day Spa Diva, is also a Weight Watchers maven. She’s a Lifetime member. She lost 40 pounds on Weight Watchers. Her journey into the WW world started when she gained weight after a bad breakup with some well-to-do lawyer. Truth is, many of her breakups were bad, but this one was just really bad. I guess she felt that he was the one but believe me, there’ve been plenty of ones also. Therefore, when they broke up, she went into a depression filled with ice cream, Oreos, and cheesecake.

Then, one evening I heard all this slamming in the kitchen. When I went down to investigate, thinking it was some very hungry burglar, it was Mom. She had tossed out every sweet in the house including some very expensive chocolate my grandmother had imported from Switzerland for a party. She declared, We’re on Weight Watchers!

From that point on (ha-ha, get the pun?), she has been a dedicated member. She got to her goal weight in record time and has kept it off for eight years. She even met the Duchess of York, back in the before times and recently Jennifer Hudson. I’m sure they bonded over how many points is in a Dunkin Doughnut and how many different ways you can make a three point dessert. When my mom does something she doesn’t do it part way, she does it like gangbusters. How does one live in the shadow of someone like that? My mother rarely makes a mistake. Well she did make a big one getting pregnant at fifteen. And, oh with men, she makes plenty of mistakes with those.

Still in the Car

We’re in the car. Since there’s nothing on the radio, we’re listening to Harry Potter 3 on CD. I sigh after a Malfoy scene. Nisha lets out the biggest sound of disapproval. As with our love for Star Trek, our mutual love for Harry Potter is a strong bond. We’ve both read the books until they were held together with rubber bands and highlighted all the important parts. If it were possible, I would have been a Harry Potter scholar at Berkley. That’s how dedicated I am to the subject matter at hand. I know it can be a little scary to other people when you name scenes and quote passages as if it were some great piece of English Literature. Well, for me it is. We also love certain characters.

Yet, Nisha has never understood my Draco Malfoy obsession. I really love his bad boy character in the books. I’ve always felt that he was a misunderstood guy, who came from a family that was so concerned with position and image. His father was cruel and demanding and Draco was raised to be the same as his father. Those Pureblood Family Values. I know a good woman (me!) could change him.

Draco Malfoy still? Nisha says with that flip attitude of hers.

Yes, Draco still, I say with conviction. Is that a problem?

You know, I’d say it’s unhealthy. Also I think you only like the tosser ‘cuz you think the guy who plays him in the movie is deliciso, Nisha says teasing me.

Well, that helps. But, you know, like- I’ve always had a place in my heart for Draco, I say while looking out the window and watching the highway go by. Also thinking ‘Unhealthy?’ I’m pretty sure on some Dr. Drew scale or something being in love with a fictional character is ‘unhealthy’, but I don’t think that is where Nisha is going with this.

Nisha laughs, Oh, you just want to snog him.

"Yeah, I do. I only wish he were real (trying to make me sound not as much as a weirdo as I am sure I am). Maybe we could like put him in some sort