“On it,” Montana said. “Me and a large bottle of Imodium A-D are on our way.”
When I turned the corner, Blakely was standing there with wide eyes, beside the closed door.
“It’s that bad?” I asked.
“It’s an epic shitstorm in there.”
I blew out a breath at the smell coming from the bathroom. We didn’t have a lot of time to remedy this situation. I grabbed both of Blakely’s shoulders, and my gaze locked with hers. “Go get a few pine candles and infusers from the storage closet and place them on every surface surrounding this bathroom that you can find.”
She nodded before hurrying away, and I opened the door.
Holy shitballs.
She was not exaggerating.
My God. The man had had the blowout of all blowouts. I reached in my belt bag and placed a face mask over my nose and mouth. Under the sink were all sorts of cleaning supplies, and I sprayed down every surface with disinfectant. And then I pulled out my phone and texted Charlie.
Me: We have a serious toilet situation at the Blushing Inn and we only have an hour to get it fixed before the guests arrive.
Charles: I suggest calling a plumber. I don’t fix clogged toilets.
Me: Wayne has the stomach flu, and we have 125 guests arriving in an hour.
Charles: And I’m your first call? Interesting.
Me: I have no time for games. You strike me as someone who knows how to deal with a shit situation.
Charles: Good assessment. I’m dealing with a nuisance living in my backyard.
Me: Fifty-eight minutes and counting, Charles. Please. I’ll owe you one.
Charles: I’ll tell you what. I’ll fix your shitter, if you help me with Harper’s birthday. She wants some pink and white balloon thing with tons of balloons that hangs down the wall and I don’t have a fucking clue what it is.
Me: It’s a balloon swag you fool. I can make that in my sleep. If you handle operation shit show, I’ll make Harper’s balloon dreams a reality.
Charles: On my way.
“Charlie is on his way. The floors and walls are soaking in disinfectant. As soon as he gets the shit water to flush and I am not at risk of passing out from the foul smell, I’ll go in with the mops and have it back to normal before the guests arrive,” I said, placing one hand over my ear so I could hear better.
“Good work, Vi. Frank is groaning, and I sent him back upstairs to his room to rest until the Imodium A-D kicks in.”
“I’m heading back with so many pine candles people will think they’re shitting in the woods.” Blakely chuckled, and I moved out to the hallway because I couldn’t take the smell any longer. She was on a mission, lighting candles and placing them on every surface in the area.
I checked on the kitchen staff to make sure all was on track. Just then, Charlie came through the front door with a duffel bag over his shoulder like he was going into battle. I held out a face mask for him.
“You’re going to need this,” I said, arching my brow.
“This deal doesn’t quite seem fair. I’m dealing with shit, and you’re paying me back by blowing up a few balloons?” he grumped.
I held up my hands. “Do you see these? Yes, they have a beautiful French manicure, so it’s easy to miss. But if you look closely, there are battle scars from the hundreds to thousands of balloons I’ve tied over the last few years. You have no idea how much goes into this. You have the opportunity to make your daughter’s pink birthday dreams come true. Man up and get in there.”
He shook his head and pulled the face mask over his mouth and nose. After he opened the door, he said something under his breath, but I got called to the bar and told a brooding Charlie that I’d be back.
“Hey, Vi,” Benji said as I walked to where he stood behind the bar. He owned the Moose Brew, the local pub that everyone loved, and he handled the alcohol portion of all our events. Sometimes he tended bar himself, and other times he sent someone from his staff. Tonight we were lucky enough to have him.
“Hi. You all set up?”
“Yep, but we’ve got a little situation,” he said.
