Page 65 of Side Hustle
“Say it. I am enough.” Charlie held his hand out to me.
“No, I’m good.”
“Say it! I. Am. Enough.” Charlie’s voice was rising.
“Say it, Rip,” Titus added.
“Fine!” I jumped up and faced these loser friends of mine who would hold my feet to the fire. I hated they were right about everything, but I loved that they cared enough to set me straight
“I am enough!” I shouted into the dark sky, fists clenched.
They all clapped and whistled like I’d done something amazing. I rolled my eyes, but damn, saying it had felt kind of good too.
They were crazy and probably the world’s worst therapists, but I loved these fuckers.
* * *
Two days and too many espresso shots to count later, I had a plan. Multiple plans. Probably way too lofty plans. But it was done. Things were in motion, and if all went well, today would be the start of my new life. A dare of rebirth, if you will. The guys hadn’t approved my dare, but I was doing it anyway. Just for me.
There was some kind of genius in Bain ordering me to make my own dare. I was discovering just how un-boring I could be. And before the day was up, the whole town would know too.
From my spot around the corner of Forty-Diner, I saw Titus rub his sleepy eyes and walk into Coffee for his usual Americano and half dozen donuts. As soon as the door closed behind him, I came out of hiding, hustling down the street, staple gun in hand. I had a stack of flyers to post on each and every wood surface along Main Street.
“Good morning.” I nodded to that new elementary school teacher whose name I couldn’t remember. I’d have to get better with names if I became mayor.
I kept right on walking, stapling, moving on until one side of Main Street was littered with the pink sheets of paper. Going up the other side, I had to stop when Titus exited Coffee. I fished my cell phone out of my back pocket and crouched behind Poppy’s mail truck, trying to get a direct shot of Titus for posterity’s sake. He put his coffee on top of his truck and dug out a donut from the box in his hand. Guy never could wait to sink his teeth into those sugar circles from hell.
“What the fu—” Titus spat out the bite of donut on the ground and jumped back. He stared at the rest of the donut in his hand before tossing it back into the box and grabbing another one. He bit again, more cautiously this time, and spat that one out too. Thankfully, I had good friends who worked at Coffee who were willing to sabotage his donuts for an exchange of twenty bucks. Nothing like ketchup- and mustard-filled donuts first thing in the morning, or coffee grounds dumped in your cup.
“Jesus Christ. What the hell is going on in this town?” Titus muttered. He tossed the box on his hood and reached for his coffee.
I bit my lip and held in the laughter as long as I could. Thank God for smartphones that could record shit like this. Titus took a huge sip of coffee, and a second later, spat that out onto the street as well. A puff of air escaped my lips and my shoulders shook.
“Fuck!” Titus yelped, tearing the lid off his coffee and looking inside.
“Watch your mouth, young man!” Penelope fired at him, walking by in her severe meter maid outfit.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Titus said contritely, his face a shade of red that made me giddy.
Titus looked around and I ducked down. A few seconds later, I poked my head back out again and saw him walking closer to one of the poles that had my beautiful new pink flyer stapled to it.
“Lord have mercy,” he muttered. Then he scrambled to get his cell phone out.
I knew exactly who he was calling. Bain. If only I could hear Bain’s side of the conversation…
“Dude. It happened again.”
Pause.
“I don’t know who did it, but there are pink flyers all up and down Main Street with a picture of you crying at Lucy’s spank bank from the other night.”
Titus pulled the phone away from his ear real quick, hanging up and shaking his head.
I stopped the video and darted between cars until I was sure Titus couldn’t see me. I knew documenting a selfie with Bain crying on my shoulder about his stolen sperm would come in handy at some point.
Two fuckers pranked. Two to go.
I fired up my truck and headed over to Jayden’s house. Hopefully I wasn’t too late to catch the fallout from the newspaper ad I’d placed in today’s edition. Jayden didn’t know it yet, but he was in urgent need of a female housecleaner. The ad specifically stated she had to wear a skimpy French-maid outfit. I couldn’t wait to see who showed up to answer the ad.
