Excerpt: Geminus

[Note: Philip is trying to buy a specific book. A type of book normally only read by girls.]

He had to try three places before he finally hit lucky; the first, Marlett's, didn't stock it at all, a very surprised-looking salesperson told him when he plucked up the guts to ask her directly.
“Um, do you know who might carry it, then?” Philip tried. “I-it's for a girl... friend. Well, not a girlfriend, but just... It's her birthday, and I... I'm in kind of a hurry.” Which all sounded utterly lame, he thought.
The woman looked faintly amused, as if she didn't believe a word of it. But she did suggest he try the Reading Room.
At the Reading Room he found, to his surprise, that they had a whole bookcase dedicated to the kind of romantic tripe Gert was so fond of. But no Fiona Jasper. However, this time the girl busy stocking shelves a bit further away was more helpful. No, the Jaspers had just sold out, she told him; they'd re-ordered, but it would take a couple of days. But hang on; if it was important (Philip had fed her the birthday-gift story, this time without stammering) she could try and check with their branch at the train station.
“That would be... really nice of you,” he replied eagerly when she suggested this. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She smiled at him and took out her work phone, speed dialling. “Hi, Anthea? It's Mari. I was wondering if you've got any of the Fiona Jaspers left? Yes, it was the Errison one, I believe...” She glanced at Philip, who nodded hurriedly. “You do? Oh, could you be a darling and set one aside? There's a young man here who's just desperate to get hold of one (at this Philip felt his face catch fire), and it absolutely has got to be today... Lovely, I'll tell him that. Ta so much.” She disconnected and gave Philip a big smile. “Just pop down there then and ask for Anthea, she'll have it waiting for you.”
“Th-thanks.” He wasn't sure how thankful he really felt for her making him sound like a complete berk to her colleague, but at least she'd gotten a result, he told himself as he hurried out of the shop.
The train station Reading Room turned out to be little more than a niche in the wall, with only half a dozen bookcases in total. Still, one third of the shelf space seemed given over to romance pap and chick lit, with a corresponding amount of more guy-oriented entertainment catering for the other half of the population. What he'd once heard Nathan term 'airport literature' – easily digested entertainment, the kind people picked up when they just wanted something to read that was more exciting than the in-flight magazine and the safety protocols. Apparently train passengers shopped on the same principle.
Which meant, in retrospect, that he ought to have started his book hunt here.
He didn't have to ask for Anthea; there was only one female staff in the tiny shop; moderately overweight, in her thirties (Philip guessed, though he wasn't that good at telling women's ages) and dressed in a floral-print blouse she looked like she might be an avid consumer of the literary outpourings of the Fiona Jaspers of the world. He walked up to her, squaring his shoulders.
“Excuse me,” he said politely, “are you holding a book for me? The Heir of Errison by Fiona Jaspers?”
She blinked at him through gold-rimmed glasses. “Oh... oh yes, of course.” From below the counter she retrieved a pocket-sized volume and held it up so he could see the title and author on the front. “This was the one, wasn't it?”
“Um, yeah. It's, uh, for a present.” Philip dug his wallet out of his bag.
“I'm sorry we don't gift-wrap at this outlet,” Anthea replied absent-mindedly as she scanned the book's bar code before printing an 'exchange' sticker and placing it on the book's clear plastic wrapper. “But there's a small stationer's three shops down, they sell gift bags.”
Philip okayed the charge on his cashcard and accepted the receipt. “Thanks,” he told Anthea, offering her his best smile as he stuffed the book and his wallet into his bag.