Page 17 of You've Got Male

Evie squeezed her eyes shut, took three deep breaths, even did an ironicoh-mmm. Then she opened them and pointed to the spreadsheet that was so red it resembled Jackson Pollock’s painting,Mural on Indian Red Ground. “Yeah, the invoices and overhead are still here. I hate to say this, but we’re going to have to find a way to increase revenue and decrease spending.”

“No,” her dad said. “I know what you’re thinking and we are not raising our prices.”

“Or cutting employee hours,” Moira added sternly.

Evie hated where her mind was going, but it was closer to letting go of a few employees. “We don’t need six employees working on a Tuesday afternoon. Maybe at one time, but not anymore.”

“We’re a family here,” Moira said. “And family sticks together, especially through the lean times.”

“Mom, we aren’t lean, there is no fat left on the bones. We’re bleeding money.”

She flipped the spreadsheet that she’d painstakingly created but neither parent even spared it a glance. It was like if they didn’t acknowledge it then the problem didn’t exist.

“Our employees depend on that money to feed their families,” Lenard said, and even though he was dressed in a boldly patterned, fitted shirt with his trademark smile, Evie noticed the slight wrinkles around his mouth, the lightly jaundiced eyes, and the labored breathing he was trying to conceal. He’d worked theregister for less than an hour before Evie demanded he sit down.

More worrisome than his obvious exhaustion was that he’d listened to her.

“If we don’t make serious changes, and I mean now, we aren’t going to be able to feed our own family.”

Lenard clapped his hands. “Then we reach out to the community, have a good, old-fashioned Rainbow Raising. Maybe host Gay All Day Saturdays where coffee comes with a free scone.”

“That’s a great idea, Lenny,” Moira said, pride and excitement lacing her voice. “Maybe we can do a few bake sales. Gloria had been tinkering with the idea of selling her empanadas to local shops before her husband passed. People love her empanadas. It would be good for sales and good for her to have a purpose again.”

Evie sighed. “We’d have to have Rachael Ray and Gordon Ramsay cooking if we want to make a dent.”

Moira ignored this. “The Smut Club is looking for a new place to host their weekly book club meetings.”

“That’s exactly what we don’t need. A bunch of old ladies ordering a cup of tea and then taking up half the seats for three hours. We need new customers.”

“This was the first queer-owned and -operated shop in the state. We made a supportive and inclusive place for the community, and I know they’ll support us in our time of need.”

Oh, how Evie wished it was that easy. She’d run the numbers twice and was no closer to finding a solution. Her parents had sacrificed a lot for Evie over the years, giving her a place to live when she became pregnant with Camila, stepping in as babysitters and second parents when needed, even paying for part of Camila’s private school in the beginning—not to mention helping with the expenses that came with competitive cheerleading. So she was determined to repay that generosityby saving the coffee shop. Even if it meant going against their wishes.

“We need to add to our customer base. We’re surrounded by corporate towers. There is no reason why the suits can’t come here for their morning latte. We just need to make a few changes to attract them,” Evie said. “It wouldn’t take a lot. Some fresh paint, modern accents, maybe even take out some of the community tables and opt for some smaller, double occupancy tables.”

“And turn this place into a pseudo boardroom?” Lenard said, horrified. “I’ve worked hard to make this place unique and homey.”

“You have a blown-up centerfold from the June 1972Cosmomagazine of Burt Reynolds in the buff hanging in the bathroom with a swiveling heart over his penis, so that when a customer lifts the heart an alarm sounds notifying the entire shop they’re a pervert.”

“It tells us they are curious and open. And this place is more than a memorial to Burt’s penis, it’s a place that encourages people to share their coffee with others, old faces and new. Sitting alone goes against everything this shop was founded on.”

“It will still be that. Professionals come in, they buy coffee, and they go about their business without taking up tables for the regulars.”

“Is the shop going to be okay?”

All three adults looked up at Camila, who was standing in the doorway to the office. She was in her barista uniform, wavy brown hair pulled into a high ponytail, her light-brown eyes dialed to concerned.

Dang it, how much had she heard?

“It’s going to be fine, sweetie,” Lenard said with a brave smile.

“Everything is just fine,” Moira added. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

Camila looked at Evie, unconvinced, waiting for the truth. Evie didn’t want to lie but she also didn’t want to worry her daughter with adult business.

“What do you need?” Evie settled on.

Camila rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I should expect secrets from you guys.”

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