Hale chuckled beside me while I blinked at them. I was in a real-life delusion. Any minute, Hale’s oysters would break into a song and dance routine and a mermaid would surface in the cove. That was Friendship, Rhode Island for you. “Is this some kind of skit?”
“I don’t know what the hell is happening here,” a voice called from across the parking lot, “but it looks like it’s long past time for Beck to stop talking.”
I turned to find Melissa Salcedo walking toward us. Mel was an expert mixologist and managed the front of house, and somewhere in her give-no-fucks heart found the time to give many fucks to my parents. She was another one of the people I wouldn’t be firing today. That brought the count up to three if I included my seventeen-year-old brother Parker who bussed tables and washed dishes. With any luck, he hadn’t been involved in any of the counterfeiting or money laundering schemes. I could depend on him to sleep through most things. Speaking of which, I’d need to find outwherehe was sleeping seeing as I was his new guardian and he refused to answer his phone.
“I don’t know what happened here”—Mel swirled a hand over the flowers I’d destroyed—“or what happened here”—and the soil on my shirt—“or any of this”—a wide-eyed glance at the women of Naked Provisions—“but I’m not about to let you dick around all day. Woot would allow it but I won’t.” She gave the oysterman a withering stare. Not a single fuck given. “I see you laughing into your elbow, sir. Not helping.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hale said, chuckling.
“You are a troublemaker and you know it.” Mel returned her gaze to me, saying, “Wrap this up.”
Something in Mel’s tone cleared away the fog of the mirage, the stress-coma, the braless holodeck. I had to pull myself together and stop being dick silly over the most untouchable woman in the world, who happened to be a kid (fuck my life) in my head. I was here to clean house and put my family back together, and I didn’t have time to spar in circles about some flowerpots.
“I’ll wrap it up just as soon as our new neighbors agree their decorations are blocking our traffic flow and they move them to a more suitable location,” I said.
“Your traffic flow,” Sunny said, all ice and sadism, “is not our problem.”
“It will be your problem on Saturday when this place is mobbed and we’re stopping traffic on Market Street because a vendor is trying to back their truck down here without sideswiping every car they pass. It will be your problem when the police implement a parking ban and your customers have to walk down from Market Street to get”—I waved toward the building—“vegan things.”
Hale shook his head. “I don’t think you need to worry so hard over it, Beck. Nothing has really changed. It just looks different because they cleaned this area up.”
Okay so maybe I was firing him. It couldn’t be that difficult to find someone else with five centuries of oystering in their blood.
“It gives me no pleasure to agree with Woot on anything,” Mel started, “but he has a point. It only looks like they’re cannibalizing our driveway because this area seems much bigger now that it isn’t covered in overgrown beach grass and abandoned lobster traps.”
It looked like I was down a front of house manager too.
Sunny crossed her arms and shot me a triumphant grin. “Does this make any more sense to you now that two other people have explained it?”
I didn’t try to withhold my eye roll. It was perversely entertaining to argue with her. It didn’t matter that I urgently needed sleep, several gallons of water, and to yell at my attorney until I lost my voice. Didn’t matter that my clothes had seen four continents or that my contacts were dangerously dry. I wanted to yell at Sunny and I wanted her to yell back, and that was a serious fucking problem. “My point still stands and you’re ignoring the fact—”
“All right.” Mel clapped me on the shoulder. “Meet me inside when you’re finished here. For everyone’s sake, please finish quickly. We have business to discuss.”
“Hello there,” Bethany said to Mel, extending her hand. “I’m Bethany. Everyone calls me Beth. Or Bethany. Either one is great. Or Bea. No one calls me that, but I wouldn’t mind if you did. Or anyone else. Hi. Hello. I don’t think we’ve met.”
Mel froze on the spot. She stared at Beth’s outstretched hand but made no move to accept it. After a pause that had everyone looking at the ground to get away from the awkwardness, Mel said, “We haven’t met.” She clasped Beth’s hand for a split second and then shot me a side-eye glance. “I’ll be in the office.”
I watched as Mel sprinted across the lot and into the restaurant without a backward glance. Another in the greatest hits ofwhat the fuck is happening here?
“I gotta get these babies inside.” Hale knocked his knuckles against the crates. To the women, he said, “I’ll stop over this afternoon when I’m done for the day. You have my number if you need anything but I know you’re going to kick ass. Everyone in town is pumped for this. Save one of those spicy cinnamon rolls for me, Muff?”
“I save nothing for no one,” she replied. “But I might forget a few rolls in the walk-in. It happens. I’m very busy, Woot. I’ve explained this to you many times. Go away now.”
“Damn right you’re busy,” he said. “Can’t expect you to keep track of every spicy bun.”
With Hale heading toward the restaurant, the women turned their attention on me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken to Lance though I knew he hadn’t mentioned anything about his sister managing a new café in Friendship—and one in throwing distance of my family’s restaurant.
We’d fix that real soon. Right after I got my brother out of bed, fired everyone, and yelled at my attorney. Then, I’d tear into my best friend for failing to share any of these important updates.
I watched while the chocolate Lab nosed at the soil spilling out of the broken pottery. Why did she have two dogs now? “I’ll have the flowerpots taken care of.”
“That’s not necessary,” Sunny said. “We know how you feel about our flowers. We’re not interested in seeing how you ‘take care’ of them.”
Rather than respond, I pulled out my phone to move things along. Before I could fire off another message, a pair of landscaping trucks rumbled down the drive toward us. When they stopped, a crew of six poured out of the trucks and immediately reached for rakes, shovels, and leaf blowers.
“Over here,” I called to Rainey, the guy who looked after the grounds at SPOC. “This pot needs to be replaced and everything cleaned up. There’s also the matter of a loose paver stone. It’s a hazard. Do whatever you need to do to secure it.”
Rainey zeroed in on the wobbly stone, pressed the toe of his boot to it, and nodded. “Oh, yeah. This needs to go.”
