Page 33 of Afternoon Delight
Large double-shot Americano. One sugar, no milk.
Dad says no thanks.
Brim Stokers was busy, but I had a brief chat with Ali while I waited for my order.
“I had to work my other job last night,” she said over the hiss of foaming milk. “I couldn’t come to your thing. How’d it go?”
“Really good. I’m giving away the last of my coupons today. Come grab one on your break.”
“I will, thanks.”
Yes, I knew damned well that a half-dozen people overheard me. I made sure of it. They could find one in the local paper if they looked, but scarcity had a way of motivating people to act. Sure enough, a couple of people followed me across the street when I returned to the shop.
I had texted Georgia the receipts last night. This morning, I sent her a couple of photos of the wreckage, adding:
Nice problem to have.
I began straightening the displays, consolidating here and there so the shelves didn’t have more gaps than a six-year-old’s smile.
Surprisingly, a lot of clothes had sold. I would put Mom on the hunt for more.
“Good morning.” Zak strode in with a jangle of the bell and descended on the cup I pointed toward. “You’re a lifesaver. Things went sideways last night with my niece. She’s fine, but she gets nosebleeds that don’t stop. Zara and Kyle were at the hospital until midnight, so Dad and I kept the boys overnight. I love them. Genuinely. But Ollie—the two-year-old—goes until he stops. He wouldn’t settle, so I brought him into my bed. I’ve been taking kicks to the kidney all night. Then I had to get Lance to school this morning, drop Ollie off with Zara. Needless to say, I did not get a chance to play with my new toys.”
“No review for my newsletter? You’re so fired. Give me back that coffee.”
“Tomorrow. I promise.” He took a sip, realized it was almost cold, and started gulping.
“No pressure, but when do you think you could pick up those boxes of magazines from my mom’s? And is there a chance you’d want one of those old wooden stereo cabinets? Roddie’s staying here, so he needs a dresser. The stereo’s in the way.”
“He didn’t file for emancipation when he heard about this?” Zak pointed a finger from the hand holding his cup and drew a wide circle to indicate the store.
“When it provides endless reasons to mock me? Heck, no.”
His grin kicked sideways. “Sounds like my kind of kid. Does it work?”
“I spend a lot of time re-examining my life choices, so yes, I guess it does.”
“I see what you did there.” He nodded in approval. “Does the stereo work?”
“I’ll check. Where does it go if it doesn’t?”
“Take out the guts and use it as a dresser. But if it works, bring it in here.” He nodded at the wall where there was space beneath the crops and paddles hanging on the wall. “I assume you have vinyl records? If not, we have some.”
“We have tons. Dad liked psychedelic rock and—” I gasped with excitement. “Mom’s love ballads. I Feel the Earth Move. Let’s Get It On. I Want To Kiss You All Over. Good Vibrations.”
“How Deep Is Your Love?” Zak lifted his brows.
“Oof. But yes. You’re a genius.”
“This isn’t just a hat rack, you know.” He pointed at his head. “Since it sounds like I need the van for all your dad’s porn, I can pick up the stereo at the same time.”
I looked at the wall again, already seeing the stereo there. “When?”
“Let me check our schedule. We’re booking into— Just kidding. When do you want me there?”
“Sunday?” It was my only day off, and I had work to finish for Peterson, Londale, and Funk, but screw those guys. “I haven’t asked Mom yet if she’ll part with it.”
“Okay. Let me know. I should get back to Dad. Thanks again.” He saluted me with his cup and left.
