Page 21 of Believe in Caloosa Springs

I couldn’t help a chuckle at the name.

“I thought the temp workers were coming here today to get that done,” Mandy replied, taking a sip from her coffee mug.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Oh, they are. But you know those two. Can’t wait for help to save their lives.”

Mandy laughed. “So, what are they going to do when they get here, then?”

“Line their pockets with our weed like they did last time, I presume.”

“But this should be the last time we call them out, right? Once we get these guys up and going, we shouldn’t need to bring in any outside hands.”

“That’s the goal,” Oliver agreed.

I faintly remembered Mandy complaining about having to hire the temp workers to help with bigger harvests, and what a pain in the ass it had been. Bringing on other static employees was a big step for them, and I really did hope it worked out well. Oliver and Tyler were good people.

“What are you guys up to?” I asked.

“Needed to stop in and get the supply for the back stock before we headed in,” Mandy said.

Oliver nodded, “That’s right. I forgot to grab it before I left yesterday.”

“No worries, you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

Oliver smiled and thanked us both before turning around to rejoin his group of pupils.

I wasn’t sure what he was thanking me for. I just rode along to get some coffee.

The store wasn’t at all what I was expecting. The last time I visited, it was still designed as a bookstore, which was the front the original owner (Oliver’s aunt) had kept up throughout the years when selling pot would land you in prison. When Elaine… Elizabeth? died and Oliver took over, he and Mandy had worked to get the store licensed as a proper dispensary. They had grown like crazy ever since. I was really proud of Mandy. When she decided to stay in this pissant country place once she was a legal adult, I was convinced her brain had turned into mush. I just imagined her sitting on her front porch, barefoot, blowing on a ceramic jug or something.

Glass display cases lined the perimeter of the space, the contents of each immaculately displayed, with accessories and small glass jars displaying different strains and weights of product. It was like the Macy's display windows in Times Square, but for weed. I had been to a lot of dispensaries all over Las Vegas, but this one was simply charming.

In the center of the room, recessed a bit from the entrance, was another large counter with a computer and cash register. Tucked in the corner on the right-hand side, a couple of loungers and two bookshelves were situated.

“Oh, I love this little lounge area,” I told Mandy, running my hands over the fabric of the chairs.

“Yeah, that was my idea. I originally suggested it so Oliver and I would have a place to just chill out for a few after a big day of orders or whatever, but people actually really like it. They come in here and buy some pot, grab a newspaper or a book, and sit over on the chairs for a good two, even three hours some days.”

“Well, I mean, what else is there to do here?”

Mandy snorted and tapped her finger on the computer monitor to wake it up as I plopped myself down and opened my phone.

“Why do you live here, anyway?” I asked as I thumbed through email notifications.

“I hate people, and this is the smallest town I could find that still had electricity and indoor plumbing,” she replied.

“Fair enough, but don’t you get bored?”

“Sometimes.” I heard the cash drawer spring open. “Goddammit,” Mandy muttered after a minute or so.

“Hmm?”

“The cash is 32 dollars short.”

“Uh oh. Somebody’s in trouble!”

“Hardly. Oliver worked yesterday. It’s always fucked up after his days. The boy can’t count to save his life.”

“Good thing he’s the owner, then.”

---