Angels in The BookshopMature

Just a little Boondock Saints Fanfiction that I started writing a bit ago...I may come back to it, simply because I've got a few ideas now.

They spent three weeks unpacking books. Donohue's Rare Books would open in the week following the great unpacking. The store was the love child of Melissa Hathoway and Amy Blackwell. Melissa had an expertise in business and negotiation, as well as an eye for antiques; while Amy had studied library sciences in college and possessed a way with words that left less educated folks in a confused daze. Both girls knew each other from high school, meeting by chance in an English classroom and becoming fast friends. After college they traveled the world, essentially backpacking across Europe before returning to the United States.

 

            Upon their return, the girls went into their respective fields, Melissa into publishing and public relations, and Amy became a librarian, writing novels in her free time. After five well spent (and prosperous) years in the work force, Amy and Melissa grew tired of the monotony. So one day, while taking a joint vacation in Boston, the hand of fate leaned in, and influenced the two friends.

 

            With the wind jostling their hair every which way, Amy and Melissa scurried into the nearest available door. Who knew Boston's winter held on with such vengeance? Panting softly, their scarfs wrapped up around their faces so only the top half of their faces showed, the girls found a seat at a window bordered booth.

 

            The booth's material felt slippery against the fabric of their coats. Both girls wore petticoats, buttoned all the way up the front. Melissa wore a gray coat, while Amy wore a black one. To say they dressed similar would be improving the truth a little, for each girl had her separate style. Melissa’s attitude fluctuated while her style stayed pretty much the same. Thankfully her outfits always contained some off-putting element such as a men’s hat or different colored socks. Melissa did not care for others dictating her outfits, but she dressed for recognition.

 

            Amy dressed similarly, in jeans and a shirt. Keeping her colors cohesive and ordinary, she stood out by her lipstick. Amy tended to wear bright colors on her lips, and when her actions differed from her usual habits, Amy's eyes popped a bit more due to eye-shadow or the shade of her earrings. Amy stood about half a head shorter than Melissa, and each girl felt a little grief at their height. They began disrobing from their winter armor, placing their coats next to them, and against the windowed wall and then placing their gloves on top of their coats. Amy fully removed her slate blue scarf from around her neck and tossed it onto her pile.

 

            “Hmm, let’s see what Boston has to offer food wise huh?” Amy chuckled softly as she picked up the menu, the light shining off of her dark red nails. She could hardly help but poke fun at Melissa as her eyes fell upon the drink list. “Hey Mel....”

 

            Melissa looked up at Amy in question, indicating her attention. Melissa's look said “What?” her eyes expressing adequately her curiosity concerning Amy's finding on the menu. Her hands came up to her scarf, pulling it loose from her mouth  and then returning to pick up her own menu as the soft red fabric fell against her white sweater.  As soon as her eyes found the object Amy was referring to, Melissa promptly squealed, earning strange looks from the other people in the shop.

           

            “Oooh, my god they have Peppermint Tea!” Melissa bounced happily in place, not caring about the odd looks the other costumers sent her way. She giggled as she saw a slightly appalled look on one old lady's face. Amy simply shook her head and chuckled before returning her attention to the menu.

 

            “Stop causing a scene and decide what you're getting already Mel dear, I'm hungry and everything on this blasted menu looks delicious!” Melissa smirked, became silent and when Amy's attention turned to her menu, sent a raspberry to the old lady at the bar. She forgot however, that raspberries are noisy, and earned a swift kick and a look of reparation from Amy.

 

            “Hey now, Amy! That was uncalled for!” Melissa gave her friend an indignant pout and bent down, her hand rubbing her leg to sooth where Amy's kick made contact. All Amy did in response was to herald the waiter over. Poor thing must have drawn the short straw to be forced to deal with these two girls for the night.

The End

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