Call Me Charles

By Holly Day

Charles Bowman was having a bad day even before his friends showed up to kidnap him for his birthday. He lost his nametag, missed the bus, and was late for his shift in the sandwich shop, but that isn't the worst. The worst is he's accidentally been poisoning Hubert, the owner of the candy shop across from the sandwich shop, with gluten despite Hubert ordering gluten-free sandwiches.

When Charles finds himself soaking wet on a deserted road in the chilling October night, the worst gets an entirely new meaning. But right as he's about to give up, Hubert comes driving on his motorcycle. Being responsible for gluten poisoning aside, Charles has never been as glad to see his knight in black leather, but is going home with Hubert a good idea? Or will the worst get even worse?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Oct 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781646569106

Holly Day

Holly Day and Sherman Wick are the authors of several books about the Twin Cities. Sherman Wick received his BA in history from the University of Minnesota and has been a member of the Minnesota Historical Society for several decades. Holly Day has worked as a freelance writer for local and national publications for over twenty-five years and teaches writing classes at the Loft Literary Center.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Charles Bowman zigzagged through dawdling passengers at the train station. The scent of coffee coming from the magazine shop should have been augmented by the scent of coffee coming from his tiny sandwich shop twenty feet down the aisle, but he wasn’t there. He was here, trying not to push an ancient woman out of the way to get to where he should have been forty minutes ago.

As he made it past her, he spotted Hubert Kane—the large, bearded, heavily tattooed owner of the candy shop across from the sandwich shop. He was trying to see in through the sliding window Charles should have opened thirty minutes ago.

He would lose his job over this.

Whatever he told Lucile, his boss, she would assume he was lying and had overslept, and she had told him when she hired him that if he overslept, he was out. There was far too many looking for a job for her to keep someone who didn’t do theirs. And Charles understood, but he hadn’t overslept.

First, it had been Mrs. Oliver who had locked herself out of her apartment. She’d come to him, panicking since her grandchild was sleeping inside all alone. Charles understood and had done his best to help. He’d called the caretaker who hadn’t picked up. Since Mrs. Oliver’s panic had grown with each passing second, he’d called a locksmith.

Then he’d missed the bus and had to run here in the chilly October rain. Now his clothes were damp from both the inside and the outside. He was panting, sticky, and tasted blood at the back of his mouth.

Charlie. Hubert looked relieved to see him.

Charles. He pointed at his name tag only to realize it was no longer where it should have been. Crap!

I was worried you’d gotten sick.

Charles frowned. He hadn’t known Hubert could worry. Every morning he bought a sandwich from Charles—chicken and avocado. Then he’d grunt, sometimes growl, depending on the people in the waiting hall, and go back into the candy shop.

The candy shop was as tiny as the sandwich shop and the magazine shop—the magazine shop claimed to be a magazine shop, but they only had one wall covered with magazines. The rest was candy, drinks, and one narrow shelf with travel games. And worst of all, they were snobby bastards. If Charles needed help, he’d risk getting growled at by Hubert rather than expose himself to the condescending looks of the magazine people.

A voice came through the speakers, announcing the train on platform twelve arriving shortly, and people bustled toward the exit.

Charlie?

Charles looked at Hubert. Yeah?

Are you okay?

He shook his head. Yes.

Hubert watched him without much expression. Are you gonna open the shop?

Oh, yeah.

He fumbled with his keys, let himself inside at the back, and opened the sliding window. Yes? How can I help you?

Hubert frowned. I can come back later. You have things you need to prepare, right?

Charles looked around the empty counters. He didn’t have bread. If he followed the aisle of the waiting hall for ages, passed all the train platforms, and went into a bus station, there was a tiny bakery where he got his bread every morning.

They would have called Lucile by now.

Charles gave Hubert a pleading look. I have to get bread.

Hubert nodded, his normally harsh eyes softening. You do that. Lock up. I’ll keep an eye from the shop.

Nodding, Charles closed the window again. His eyes stung, but he refused to cry before he’d opened for the day.

When Charles exited the sandwich shop, Hubert was growling at a kid who rode a skateboard through the waiting hall. The kid was either stupid or…stupid. When Charles had been fifteen, he would have peed his pants had someone like Hubert growled at him. To be honest, he might pee his pants at thirty-one too.

* * * *

Charles greeted one customer after the other. It was evident they were nearing lunch. He’d finally gotten all the things out of the refrigerator, had managed to slice vegetables and get the bread he needed after many and long apologies to Joan at the bakery. She would have given him the bread without any apology at all, but he couldn’t stand the thought of not only having messed up his day but theirs too.

Hubert hadn’t been back. He worked alone for all Charles knew, and there was always someone strolling around in the candy shop.

When a preppy-looking man snarled an order of a chicken avocado sandwich while staring