Page 11 of Tall, Dark, & Ginger

“Cool. I’ll be on the patio.”

Before I can make it there, the front door opens and Salem, Jerryn, and Stewart enter the bar, all of them carrying boxes and bags. I hurry over to help, followed by Indy and Kit.

“What’s all this?” I ask.

“Decorations,” Salem says. “The whole street is gonna have a summer kick-off event. It’s just specials and decorations but it’ll be good for business since classes are ending at the university soon. If one or two businesses draw people in, we all potentially win.”

“Oh, sweet.”

“Which is on our list to talk to you about this week,” Indy says, bumping my arm with his as we carry stuff to the back. “We can hype your new summer menu and maybe put some specials together.”

“Can do. How much time do we have?”

“Salem just found out this morning that they want to do it next week. I guess the Chamber of Commerce came up with it on the spur of the moment.”

“They reached out to us directly.” Salem smiles big. “We’re one of the most important businesses in the city now.”

“Heck yeah,” Stewart says. “All week long students have been talking about what they want to eat from here before they leave for the summer.”

My chest swells with pride. This is what I wanted when I became a chef. “That’s awesome. I’ll work on a specials menu.”

After helping the guys, I return to my original goal of sitting outside for a bit, but I walk in on Ridley and Bane discussing something on Ridley’s phone.

“I don’t know, man,” Ridley says, gazing down at his screen. “He looks nice enough, but he’s got dead eyes.”

“What the fuck are dead eyes?” Bane asks, leaning closer to the phone.

“You know, nothing behind them.”

“It’s a picture on a phone. You’re being picky as fuck, man. If you’re gonna end your dry spell, you’re gonna have to lower your standards.”

My stomach twists slightly, but I’m not sure why. I finish my approach, leaning between the two guys.

“What are we doing?”

Ridley flinches, his breath hitching. “Nothing.”

Bane chuckles. “Looking through potential matches on a dating website.”

“Dating,” Ridley says, but his tone is bitter. “Hookup is more accurate.”

“Oh? What’s the site called?”

Ridley hands me his phone. There’s a mild looking man on the screen with a practiced smile on a pleasant face and the username “Big Mike.” The app name is one I haven’t heard of before, Honey Pot.

I hand the phone back. “Big Mike looks nice.”

Ridley scoffs. “I guess.”

“What’s wrong?”

“His standards are stupid high right now,” Bane says. “Unreasonably high. It’s obviously okay to have them, but he’s nitpicking.”

“Why?”

Ridley turns to me, lips parted, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah, why, Ridley?” Bane teases.

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