Shop Talk Read Online Free PDF Page A

his mouth. “Great,” he said, chewing. He took a big swallow of coffee.
    Cocoa watched the half-chewed cake move down his throat. There was something sad about him. Needy. He was like a dog that had never been fed good a single time in his entire life. She pushed her untouched plate of cheesecake toward him. “Go ahead. I never eat … the stuff.”
    “It’s really good.” Walden had no shyness when it came to food. Since he’d never been overweight, he was unaware of the taboos. He glanced at Coco, who was twirling her spoon in her coffee. She was one skinny broad, but she photographed well. Extremely well. And he loved her sense of kitchen costuming. The net apron was like something from a wedding
and
a whore house. The glitter shoes, a pale aqua gel embedded with tiny flakes of sparkling gold, and the ribbons in her blond hair were the final bit of perfection. It was almost a miracle that Coco could cook. Maybe the book would stand a chance of getting published. A ‘cheesecake’ cookbook wasn’t a bad idea at all.
    “Would you like another?” Coco held a piece in the air. When Walden pushed the plate at her, she dropped it with a solid slap. “I think we need to do the pecan pictures next. The leaves are just coming out so green and beautiful. I could get a bag of nuts and prop them against a tree trunk. I think a burlap apron is in order. Sort of thematic.”
    “Maybe you could dangle a few squirrel tails …”
    “I don’t think so!” Coco gave him a stern look. “That wouldn’t be very nice to the squirrels. I don’t wear fur and you shouldn’t either.”
    Walden smiled. “You got an orchard in mind?”
    Coco paused, her coffee cup forgotten halfway to her lips. “You pick the place, Walden. I’m just no good at making decisions.”
    “River Road. Let’s make it six o’clock. Just as the sun peeks over the horizon.”
    Coco nodded. “The light will be perfect.” She glanced at her wall clock. “Oh, my goodness. I was supposed to meet my friend, Dallas, at the mall before dinner.” She clumped her coffee cup on the counter and stood. “I have to change. I can’t be late for WOMB.”
    “Miss, miss, is this the
only
book you have featuring talking dinosaurs?”
    Jazz Dixon grasped the top shelf as the woman below her shook the ladder she was standing on.
    “My little boy wants the one where the dinosaur shoots smoke and fire when he talks.” The woman shook the ladder harder, her voice petulant.
    Jazz clung to the shelf for dear life but forced herself to show no fear. “Move away from the ladder,” she said in a low, deadly voice. “Move away from the ladder now.” She’d heard police officers use that same tone on TV. It was very effective. The chubby woman in the bright-pink spandex running pants and dirty white aerobic shoes moved back two feet. She clutched her snot-nosed kid by the hand. They both looked up at her with awe, and fear. Jazz felt a rush of satisfaction.
    “Librarians aren’t supposed to be mean,” the woman said, a note of accusation creeping into her voice.
    “Are you aware that there’s a literacy requirement at this library?” Jazz arched her carefully penciled eyebrows in a manner that she knew was intimidating. She’d learned it from her ex-husband, the cheap bastard. She felt a flush of anger climb her fair skin at the thought of him. He’d taken so much from her. Everything. Even her dreams. She slammed the book she was holding onto the shelf and started down the ladder with a speed that made the chubby woman gasp as she pulled her child in front of her, a human shield.
    “You want talking dinosaurs, go to the movies.” Jazz jumped the last two steps and landed on the floor beside the woman. She narrowed her brown eyes. “You want entertainment, park your rump in front of the television. This is a library. This is a place where you come to appreciate language, to learn, to whisper!” She hissed the last word. “Now get out before I permanently