“It’s, um, a little tougher than I thought it would be,” I admit, fidgeting with a lock of hair that keeps getting blown in my eyes by this mountain breeze.
Gracie’s soft hand rests on the flesh of my upper arm, and asks, “Still a staffing problem?”
I shake my head around, but don’t know how to answer her. “No. Maybe. I dunno. I mean, do I need more staff? Yes. Another server would be great, but I can’t afford to until we have revenue.”
A word I’ve heard too many times to count from Rory’s mouth in recent weeks as she’s been counseling me in the life of a small business owner.
“Another couple staff in the kitchen would do wonders. But I’ve hired as many people as I can comfortably do for now. Not like I have anyone else applying anyway.”
Gracie’s brow pinches in understanding. The salon—and every other business in this town—has been understaffed for as long as either of us have been working adults. We’ve had some influx in new residents with the New Heights program Rory has been heading the past year or two, but I think I’ve hired all the help I can get at this point.
Now I need to somehow turn what I’ve got into a profitable business.
The stress of that bubbles something acidic in my stomach and I try not to let myself focus on the unknown. All the studying I’ve been doing for months has prepared me as best I think anything could, the funds from the grant are a cushion for these first two years of business, and the rest… I just need to take a deep breath and pray the powers that be aren’t waiting to see me fall on my ass.
“You know I think you’re amazing, right?” Gracie’s sweet voice interrupts the runaway mental breakdown train that just left the station.
I lean my head over to rest against the side of hers. “That’s because I’m just your mirror, babe. You’re the most amazing bitch I know.”
Do you know what it takes to make and keep a close friend for twenty-plus years? This girl is as real as they come.
A soft smile lights up her face as we start walking back to the table. “It’s kind of incredible how you’re fulfilling the dream your dad left behind.”
That bubbling in my stomach is pulled tight by the knots that form at the comparison. The way she just voiced it, easily, like the words aren’t lighting a fuse that will cause my sister to absolutely detonate if she catches wind.
“Ew!” Rory hollers, like clockwork. Sure, she’s been talking to Grady Jr. and his girl for a half an hour, butthatshe hears. “Don’t compare my sister tohim.”
My stomach nearly tears itself in two from the tension in my gut as Rory’s face screws up in disgust. “In fact, can we just never mention him again.”
Here we go.
“Who, your father?” Gracie asks, like she doesn’t know the answer. And bless her, because as sweet as she is, she’s nowhere near as sharp as Rory. If she wasn’t a few drinks in, she probablywould’ve thought not to bring him up, but she was just thinking aloud, not trying to offend anyone.
Rory’s mouth pulls tight in a grimace I’m surprised her Botox lets her make. “Gross, stop saying that.”
Gracie giggles, like my sister is joking. If she keeps going, she’s going to learn I haven’t been exaggerating to her all those times I’ve vented to her about how unbearable Rory can be when she gets worked up.
I place a hand on Gracie’s arm to try to stop her, but it’s too late.
“Aw, honey, I’m just saying I think it’s sweet. The way Lexi is carrying on the family legacy. Doing the Weiss name proud.”
There’s no going back now. Not a single bomb squad agent on the entire federal roster would be able to defuse Rory at this point.
Hand shaking, I pull my phone out of my pocket for an excuse to look at something that isn’t her as she goes off about our dad in the periphery of my awareness.
The urge to jump right back down her throat isn’t as overpowering as it would normally be. Is this self-restraint? Some sort of personal growth journey I’m on? Or is it sisterly guilt?
Swiping away the missed calls and texts from this morning I don’t want my sister to see, my hand trembles even more, and I blame it on being starving.
Where’s the food anyway?
Rory goes off while poor Gracie watches on, not sure how to put the pin back in that particular grenade.
That’s the thing about my sister. She’s going to do what she wants to do, and no one will be able to talk her out of it when her mind is made up.
She’s convinced our dad is the devil, has been since the day our family split up. It’s not like she’s talked to him in the lastfifteen years to even hear out his side of the story. She doesn’t even know the guy anymore, won’t even give him the chance.
A bit fucking hypocritical to hate him so much for running out on us, when she did the same thing. But starting in on that little issue between us would lead to a knockdown fight that neither of us are ready for, and we have plenty of other things to focus on.
