Page 79 of Mother Parker
The windows hadn’t magically turned black. They’d been spray painted. And there was pink graffiti on each of the windows.
The first one had a hanged figurine, and the other window had the words “burn fag” underlined as if this was a hangman game.
“What the fuck!” Parker shouted.
“There really should be a comma after burn,” I said, only to get an are-you-serious glare from Parker.
He was right, of course. Why would someone do that? And why couldn’t I and my café catch a fucking break?
SEVENTEEN
HWAN
“Don’t worry, guys. It’s all good. It was probably a bigoted idiot with too much free time on his hands. It’s all being dealt with, and I’ll be back up and running in no time.”
I smiled for the camera and my thousands of viewers and prayed to all that was holy and sacred that I was right.
I didn’t know who would do such a thing. Yeah, there were some real bigots on this island—it was still a fishers’ island no matter how much money they threw at it—but no one had done anything like this before. Not that I knew of anyway.
I didn’t understand why they couldn’t just let Bubble Bubble be! I wasn’t hurting or offending anyone. I was just trying to make a living like everyone else. Trying to work hard and get on with my life.
I did a quick take, and there was a pang in my chest as I looked at the defaced shopfront.
“I’ll let you guys know how the cleaning goes and if those suggestions you’ve made manage to get the spray paint off. Love you so much, guys. Thank you for all your support. Watch my stories for more updates. Bye.” I waved at the camera and ended the live stream, dropping my shoulders and watching as the guys got to work.
Carson was already wiping a corner of the window with a towel, and Maddox and Ash were using a putty knife to scrape it off.
Even Elliot had come in and was using the graffiti removal spray without much luck.
Parker, who’d been scrolling through the photos he’d taken on his phone, looked up at me and grimaced.
“What?” I asked him.
He glanced at my own phone and then back at me.
“You shouldn’t be sharing your life with all those strangers on the internet. You don’t know who’s watching,” he said.
“Thesestrangershave been there for me when no one else was. They’re not the ones doing this. And even if they are, it’s not like I’m telling them anything new,” I said.
I hated when people criticized my online presence and honesty. As if I didn’t know the dangers of it. But as much as it could be dangerous, it could also be a tool, and I’d be damned if I shut up and didn’t speak out about injustices in my life and the world in general.
“You might think you’re not, but you might be giving them exactly what they need.”
I huffed and turned my attention to my friends helping with the windows.
“Please don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” I said and walked away from him so I could start scraping too.
“I wasn’t…” he said behind me, but I pointedly ignored him.
“You okay?” Carson asked.
“Of course,” I said. He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m gonna be deterred by some illiterate homophobic kid with nothing better to do? Come on, Carson. You know me better than this.”
He shrugged.
“I don’t know, man. I’ve heard some sketchy stories going around Main Street. You’re not the first to be attacked. Someone broke into Nim’s safe and stole hundreds of dollars, and the Blueberry Girls have had some of their deliveries stolen.”
“Good. Their fashion sense hurts my brain,” I told him.
