Page 16 of A Perfect Match
“Swear.”
The last of my reservations float away.This is a huge weight off my shoulders, and the deepest parts of me are so relieved.“Deal.”
I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “I’ll bring over some boxes tomorrow morning and I’ll get you packed up…roomie.”
CHAPTER SIX
KRU
I’m pretty sure Piper has been cursing my name since our encounter outside her front door last week.I swear I can hear her grumbling right before I drift off to sleep, like she’s whispering her complaints about me into the voodoo doll she’s no doubt created in my likeness.I’m trying not to let it bother me, even though every time I happen to cross paths with her in the back of the building, I get an icy stare.I don’t think she’s said one word to me since she moved the last of her things out of the apartment upstairs.Not unless you count the things she’s said to the voodoo doll.
“Kru?Truck’s here.”
Pat tips his head toward the front of the restaurant.Progress has been zooming along since we started a week ago.The brand new flooring—vinyl planking in a rustic wood design—is enough to completely makeover the space, but we’re not stopping there.The walls enclosing the kitchen are complete, and the crew is updating the interior walls right now.Everything is getting a rustic tinge—gourmet restaurant meets hipster barn.I think it’s going to come together nicely, and I’m assessing everything for the hundredth time this week as I head toward the front of the restaurant.
As soon as I step outside, I tip my head up to check out the new sign that was installed.Ray’s.I chose a scrawl-like font, something that almost resembles the handwriting of the man this place is named after—my father.It looks so damn good, and makes the whole thing feel much more real.
My smile fades when I notice the box truck is idling in front of the infamous curb cut.Shit.I hope Piper doesn’t see.Or maybe I do, because then she’ll say something to me for once.I can’t lie, I don’t hate it when she gets shrieky.
I jog toward the truck, waving.The passenger side window rolls down, and two incredibly large men greet me from inside.They’re here to drop off the patio furniture I ordered.I point out the area the furniture will go—my brand new brick patio, laid on Monday morning.It’s turning the dead space between the front of the building and the parking lot into a vibrant extension of the restaurant.A landscaping crew will arrive tomorrow to make things pretty and plant some privacy hedges.It’s coming together faster than I could imagine, in part because I’ve only been sleeping four hours a night.I’m nearly a zombie a week in, and we’re just getting started.
“Ooof.This one’s a heavy guy.”The huge driver and his even huger helper let out deep grunts as they unload six circular wooden tables along the sidewalk.I secretly name them Hans and Frans.I can’t tell if they really think the tables are heavy or if it’s a show they’re putting on since I’m a customer, since they each carry a table by themselves without breaking a sweat.
The chairs come next.Twenty all together.Soon my patio—and the sidewalk I share with Piper—is a chaotic maze of furniture.I begin moving things into place while they unload, but I don’t get too far on my own.Because that’s when I realize they vastly undersold the weight of this outdoor patio furniture.
I’m not sure how Hans or Frans moved a table without the help of the other, because this shit isn’t just heavy, it’s made out of dark matter.I need someone from inside to help…or maybe a crane.The delivery guys wrap things up by depositing approximately eight huge, closed umbrellas along the last available slice of space on the sidewalk.Great.
“All righty.You have a good day.”The driver tips his hat to me and clambers back inside the truck, his helper slamming the passenger door before I can even croak a thank you.The truck has barely rumbled out of the parking lot when another car pulls in.
Someone for Piper’s shop.
Fuck.
What took them twenty minutes might take me a full week on my own.But hey.I’m young, I’m strong, and I’m delusionally inspired as a small business owner.I can fucking do this.I’m lugging all the chairs onto my new patio, watching for the customer in case there are any issues.An older lady sheepishly steps around my furniture mess, looking over at me with drawn brows.
“Sorry, just had a delivery.”I wave to her as she continues her consternated creep toward Cloud Nine.Once she’s inside the shop, my shoulders relax.See?No problem with entry.No medical mishap or broken bones from using the grass.I can rest easy.
Ten minutes pass in an increasingly sweaty patio workout.I’ve got two tables moved by sheer force of what amounts to hump-pushing them across the bricks.The camera crew is lurking near the front door, lenses aimed this way, so of course they’re catching it all.Pat emerges a moment later, then helpfully shouts, “Take your shirt off for the next shots, okay?”
I straighten, shielding my eyes against the mid-day glare.“Seriously?”
“We’ve got an angle here and we’re running with it,” he shouts back.
I prop my hands on my hips, analyzing the bricks as I contemplate my next move.Taking my shirt off seems gratuitous.But this showisfooting my loan payments for almost the first year of business so I suppose I can show a little skin for my reality-TV benefactors.
It might not be OnlyFans, but it could be OnlyPatioChairs for now.
“Nobody in there wants to help me, huh?”I finally ask before tearing my shirt off.I stuff it through my belt near my hip.Pat cheers as I flex for the camera.
“They’re all busy in there,” he calls out.“Besides, this is what we call ratings, baby!You got this, Kru.”
If every piece of furniture here didn’t weigh three thousand pounds, this would be easier.I use every ounce of brawn I’ve got to get these things into place.There’s a lot of grunting involved.A few guttural roars.When I glance toward the building to see if I should keep going, Pat is all smiles.Along the wall of windows fronting Piper’s shop, I see five different faces pressed to the glass.All women.
Maybe they like what they see.No harm there.
I’m just annoyed that a part of me wishes Piper did too—like she did last month.
“I hope you’re getting the content you need,” I force out as I begin to push one of the tables.Pat’s looking at the digital screen of the camera, nodding.
