She belted out a laugh. “Excuse me?”
“All I have on hand is raw oysters which no one wants at this hour. Sell me the muffins, rolls, scones—everything Muffy prepped for the morning. We’ll feed the crew and everyone here, and anyone else who comes through, and you won’t post a loss for the day.”
Sunny’s brow crinkled. It was adorable. “We just talked about this, Beck.”
“I don’t know what you folks talked about but I sure would like a fresh muffin with that coffee,” Ranger said. “Warmed up with a pat of butter? That would be all right.”
Sunny rolled her eyes at me. “Looks like you’ve created a problem that I’ll have to solve.”
“Just remember, Sunny, I don’t keep you around because you can snap your fingers and make muffins appear. I actually like you.”
“I take it all back.” She stomped toward the café. “I hate you.”
I watched her walk away and I had the distinct sense she was taking my heart with her. “No, you don’t.”
* * *
The morning rolledon with a steady stream of locals making their way to the oyster company, most at Ranger’s telephone tree urging though some did come hoping to find Naked open and eyed our collaboration with many misgivings. I could understand that. Vegans and the oyster farmers were not a likely pairing.
That confusion aside, everyone who came in was happy to have a place to charge their devices and some air conditioning to do it in. Strangely enough, these people also stopped to talk with me like we were old friends. I hadn’t expected that, and for so many reasons. I didn’t actually know these people. Maybe in passing but not enough to hold a conversation past the basics of weather and sports. More than that, I’d never had the impression that they’d want to talk tome. I had a lot going for me but I wasn’t the fan favorite around here and I knew that. I accepted that. Fixers were never the favorites.
Yet they thanked me for being open today and also for keeping the oyster company going while my parents dealt with the “troubles”—which was the most ridiculously polite way to bring up racketeering charges. Some of these visitors told stories about coming to SPOC for special occasions back when they were young kids. They talked about being here with their parents and grandparents who’d passed on. The ones who remembered my eccentric great-uncle Buckthorne wanted me to know he’d be so pleased with the way we’d carried on his vision. Others mentioned my parents and how proud they were of us, always talking about where I was living at the time and the unbelievable vacations I planned for them, or Decker’s recent record-breaking streaks and last year’s spread inSports Illustrated.
Without fail, as soon as the topic of my brother came around, they leaned in, dropped their voices to a level that wandered between sympathy and skepticism, and said they hoped he was doing all right. Everyone was pulling for him.
My silent nods ended those conversations quickly but they also seemed to serve as proof that Decker was going through something. Not that anyone needed confirmation from me when every sports news station, podcast, and annoying bro with a social media account were all saying the same things.
And the little bitch still wouldn’t return my calls. Neither would Lance. Maybe they could start a little bitch club and chat about how easy it was to ignore me.
The power was restored to Friendship early in the afternoon and Naked’s roof was well patched to hold until the renovation started in a few weeks. Sunny and I ducked out to shower and change at home when the commotion started to die down.
A few muffin-scrounging stragglers lingered in the SPOC dining room, seemingly unbothered by the waitstaff setting tables around them.
Eventually, Mel assigned Zeus the task of moving them along, which he passed off to a bartender, who made a deal with a line cook only for it to land in Parker’s lap. As much as I wanted to see how he handled this group, a call came through from Adrian and I had to duck away.
“To what do I owe this billable hour?” I asked as I took the back stairs two at a time.
A stiff sigh was the only response for a second which was long enough to drop my stomach into my shoes. Then, “A new witness has come forward. Any deals previously on the table have been rescinded.”
I kicked the office door shut behind me, let my head fall back against it. “What the fuck?”
“A former employee. He has detailed knowledge of the oyster company’s inner workings and the management. From what I’ve been able to gather, he’s provided the prosecution with audio and video recordings that appear to incriminate your parents, along with a lengthy statement that goes into depth about cash handling and off-the-books payments.” He shuffled some papers, adding, “Guy by the name of Devon Fallon. Ring any bells?”
“That motherfucker.”
“I take it you know him?”
“Know him,” I croaked, the words sticking in my throat like rocks, “I fired him a few weeks ago.”
“Ah, wonderful,” Adrian murmured. “So, this is revenge testimony. We’ll have fun with that when we go to trial. It won’t do shit to discredit the video evidence but we’ll make him look like a prick in the process. That’s always beneficial.”
I hated that we’d lost the deal but I didn’t regret firing Devon for one second. If anything, I regretted not doing it from the start. And not throwing him in the cove. I really should’ve dunked his ass. “What about another plea deal or—”
“Not a chance in hell.” His maniacal laugh had me worried. More worried than usual. “The prosecution knows this video puts us up a creek. They have no reason to bargain.”
“The guy’s a dickhead,” I said. “Accumulating evidence and sitting on it until he felt like fucking us over isn’t the first dickhead thing he’s done.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” Adrian said, though he sounded resigned. “We’ll talk soon.”
