Chapter Six

Evie

On Tuesday morning, Evie sat in the break room, staring at her parents across the table. It was like being called to the principal’s office, only she was the principal and her parents were the irresponsible party.

“I can’t believe you let it get this bad and never said a word,” Evie said to them.

Her parents shared a pained look before Lenard spoke. “We didn’t want to worry you.”

“Yeah, well your plan backfired. I’m worried.”

She’d spent last night going through every bill, statement, and order and she still couldn’t believe how close the shop was to going under. Sure, when she’d quit her job to work for her parents’ shop, she figured it would be just long enough to fill in until they could hire someone to take over as general manager. After seeing the books, there was barely enough money to cover the day-to-day expenses, let alone hire a qualified and trustworthy manager.

How had the shop gone from booming to nearly bankrupt in just a year? And how had she been so distracted with her own life that she didn’t see this moment coming?

“Just manifest what you want,” Moira said. Her mom was dressed in skintight capris, a leopard print blouse, and matching heels. Her lipstick was red, her hair upswept, and her skin could rival that of a woman twenty years her junior. People often mistook them for sisters, which Moira loved.

Evie squeezed her eyes shut, took three deep breaths, even did an ironic oh-mmm. Then she opened them and pointed to the spreadsheet that was so red it resembled Jackson Pollock’s painting, Mural on Indian Red Ground. “Yeah, the invoices and overhead are still here. I hate to say this, but we’re going to have to find a way to increase revenue and decrease spending.”

“No,” her dad said. “I know what you’re thinking and we are not raising our prices.”

“Or cutting employee hours,” Moira added sternly.

Evie hated where her mind was going, but it was closer to letting go of a few employees. “We don’t need six employees working on a Tuesday afternoon. Maybe at one time, but not anymore.”

“We’re a family here,” Moira said. “And family sticks together, especially through the lean times.”

“Mom, we aren’t lean, there is no fat left on the bones. We’re bleeding money.”

She flipped the spreadsheet that she’d painstakingly created but neither parent even spared it a glance. It was like if they didn’t acknowledge it then the problem didn’t exist.

“Our employees depend on that money to feed their families,” Lenard said, and even though he was dressed in a boldly patterned, fitted shirt with his trademark smile, Evie noticed the slight wrinkles around his mouth, the lightly jaundiced eyes, and the labored breathing he was trying to conceal. He’d worked the register for less than an hour before Evie demanded he sit down.

More worrisome than his obvious exhaustion was that he’d listened to her.

“If we don’t make serious changes, and I mean now, we aren’t going to be able to feed our own family.”

Lenard clapped his hands. “Then we reach out to the community, have a good, old-fashioned Rainbow Raising. Maybe host Gay All Day Saturdays where coffee comes with a free scone.”

“That’s a great idea, Lenny,” Moira said, pride and excitement lacing her voice. “Maybe we can do a few bake sales. Gloria had been tinkering with the idea of selling her empanadas to local shops before her husband passed. People love her empanadas. It would be good for sales and good for her to have a purpose again.”

Evie sighed. “We’d have to have Rachael Ray and Gordon Ramsay cooking if we want to make a dent.”

Moira ignored this. “The Smut Club is looking for a new place to host their weekly book club meetings.”

“That’s exactly what we don’t need. A bunch of old ladies ordering a cup of tea and then taking up half the seats for three hours. We need new customers.”

“This was the first queer-owned and -operated shop in the state. We made a supportive and inclusive place for the community, and I know they’ll support us in our time of need.”

Oh, how Evie wished it was that easy. She’d run the numbers twice and was no closer to finding a solution. Her parents had sacrificed a lot for Evie over the years, giving her a place to live when she became pregnant with Camila, stepping in as babysitters and second parents when needed, even paying for part of Camila’s private school in the beginning—not to mention helping with the expenses that came with competitive cheerleading. So she was determined to repay that generosity by saving the coffee shop. Even if it meant going against their wishes.

“We need to add to our customer base. We’re surrounded by corporate towers. There is no reason why the suits can’t come here for their morning latte. We just need to make a few changes to attract them,” Evie said. “It wouldn’t take a lot. Some fresh paint, modern accents, maybe even take out some of the community tables and opt for some smaller, double occupancy tables.”

“And turn this place into a pseudo boardroom?” Lenard said, horrified. “I’ve worked hard to make this place unique and homey.”

“You have a blown-up centerfold from the June 1972 Cosmo magazine of Burt Reynolds in the buff hanging in the bathroom with a swiveling heart over his penis, so that when a customer lifts the heart an alarm sounds notifying the entire shop they’re a pervert.”

“It tells us they are curious and open. And this place is more than a memorial to Burt’s penis, it’s a place that encourages people to share their coffee with others, old faces and new. Sitting alone goes against everything this shop was founded on.”

“It will still be that. Professionals come in, they buy coffee, and they go about their business without taking up tables for the regulars.”

“Is the shop going to be okay?”

All three adults looked up at Camila, who was standing in the doorway to the office. She was in her barista uniform, wavy brown hair pulled into a high ponytail, her light-brown eyes dialed to concerned.

Dang it, how much had she heard?

“It’s going to be fine, sweetie,” Lenard said with a brave smile.

“Everything is just fine,” Moira added. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

Camila looked at Evie, unconvinced, waiting for the truth. Evie didn’t want to lie but she also didn’t want to worry her daughter with adult business.

“What do you need?” Evie settled on.

Camila rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I should expect secrets from you guys.”

“What does that mean?”

“Dad told me.”

“About?” Evie asked, a ball fisting in the pit of her stomach that was in the exact shape of a Mateo-made problem.

“The wedding. And how you won’t let me go. How you never let me do anything. God, you’re so overprotective and controlling I can hear the helicopter blades whirling every time you enter the room.”

What?

That ball ignited into a fireball of sheer rage. That asshole was pinning this whole thing on her? And he did it knowing Evie would rather take the fall than further ruin Camila’s relationship with her dad. If Camila knew the truth, she’d hate her dad forever. If Evie took the blame, she’d be mad, but she’d get over it.

“That’s not fair. Camila, I wanted to talk to you about it but…”

“But what? You forgot to mention Dad was getting married?” Camila said, the accusation in her tone bordering on disrespect. “You’re just jealous because Dad is happy and moving on and you’re still stuck here and your life is going nowhere. I’d never do this to my daughter.”

“Enough,” Lenard said. “Your mother tried to talk to your—”

“Coach,” Evie cut in, giving her dad a death glare. “But she reminded me it’s the same week as cheer camp and you can’t miss that. It’s mandatory.”

“You just don’t want me to go. Admit it!”

“I want you to go, I really do, sweetie. But you have camp that weekend.”

“It’s Dad’s wedding,” she whispered, and all that anger from a moment ago turned into heartbreaking anguish. “If things were reversed and you were the one getting married, I bet you’d see things differently.”

It would never be an issue because Evie would never plan something as important as a wedding without a) talking to her daughter first, and b) making sure her daughter could come. Camila was the most important person in Evie’s world, and she’d do everything in her power to keep her daughter from getting crushed. Even if it meant lying.

“I’m really sorry, sweetie,” she said, making a mental note to reach out to Mateo—with a knee to the nuts—and ask him what the hell he was thinking putting the blame on her. Not only was Evie shouldering the blame for her daughter not being a part of the wedding, it was clear by the lack of tears he also hadn’t told her the truth about the baby. “Your coach made it clear that camp is mandatory.”

“Funny thing, I asked Coach and she said she would excuse me from camp so I could go. So you want to go with another lie?”

Evie’s heart stopped. She’d never lied to Camila except for this.

“When I talked to your coach she said it would leave her in a lurch. You are their main flyer, the center of every pyramid.”

“I’m also Dad’s daughter and that’s more important.” And that was Camila’s breaking point. Her eyes filled with tears and her breathing became slightly hitched.

“Camila.” Evie reached for her, the urge to pull her daughter into her arms overwhelming. Though still upset, Camila accepted the comfort.

“Plus, you need an adult to fly and between the shop, Grandpa, and—” She almost said prepping for her entry exam. “It’s just not feasible.”

Camila sniffed and pulled away. “Heather would have probably even made me a bridesmaid.”

Heather would have done no such thing, and Evie was afraid that deep down Camila knew that. The uncertainty in her daughter’s body language, the way she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her lip from trembling, and how she kept her gaze downcast told the story of a girl who’d suffered a lifetime of disappointments and was just waiting for the next blow.

Evie went to take her daughter’s hand, but Camila tucked it into her pocket defiantly. Evie’s heart sank over what she was about to do, but anger was better than anguish. “You made a commitment to your team and we honor our commitments.”

If the rest of the world abided by that same rule, Evie’s life would be so less stressful.

“You always say family comes first, so where’s your commitment, Mom? Punishing Dad?” Camila said with enough disappointment in her voice to slice Evie’s chest.

She exchanged a look with her parents, who were as worried about how the news would affect Camila as Evie was. Evie put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

Camila rolled her shoulder, causing Evie’s hand to fall. “I’m done talking. Plus, some guy is asking for you.”

“I’ll get it,” Moira said quickly and stood.

“They didn’t ask for a manager, they asked for Mom by name. Which is creepy.”

Evie’s heart flip-flopped. Not that she thought some guy asking for her by name was creepy, but because the only people who asked for her by name were suppliers and vendors. Who were likely looking for their overdue money.

Evie watched her daughter storm out, then looked up at the ceiling to blink away the tears. She felt her mom’s arms wrap around her, pulling her in for a warm and comforting hug.

Evie held on, burying her nose in her mom’s hair and breathing in the familiar scent of Chanel No. 5 and simpler times.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Moira said softly.

Evie pulled back. “Then why does it feel like I’m lying to her?”

“Because you know that she can’t stay mad forever, but the truth would haunt her for a lifetime.”

With a jerky nod, Evie smoothed her hands down her leggings. Even the thought of a supplier pulling their business made her palms break out in panicked sweat.

She made her way down the hallway and felt like a dead man walking when she saw the man at the counter. He was dressed in a very official-looking suit, with a mustache and glasses and very official-looking energy.

“May I help you?”

“Evie?” he asked.

“That’s me.”

He looked her up and down and sighed a relieved breath. “You’re even prettier than the video.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m Sam.” He held out a bundle of pencils. Pink and red with freshly sharpened, pointy tips. “And these are for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

He ran a hand down his face. “I knew I should have just opted for flowers, but my mom said a bouquet of sharpened pencils would be romantic. Prove that I’m a good listener, which I am by the way. Communication is the key to successful relationships. Wouldn’t you say?”

If that were the case, then Sam must struggle with relationships because he was talking but not a word was making sense. “I’m a little lost here.”

“You’re Evie, the You’ve Got Male girl, right? The one off ClickByte?” ClickByte was a social media app where people uploaded videos about anything and everything. Weird thing was, Evie didn’t even have an account, so why was he bringing it up?

When Evie didn’t answer, he pulled out his phone and navigated to the ClickByte app and a few swipes later there was Evie, in Technicolor, talking about her ideal man.

“Okay, if I were to accept a date from a man, he’d have to be kind, funny, reliable, know his way around a kitchen.”

“And the bedroom?”

“For sure the bedroom. My monthly battery budget is insane. And it would be nice to put on some silk and lace for someone other than myself.” She laughed. “He’d have to be gentle but all man and funny.”

“You already said funny.”

“Because it’s important. If he can’t laugh at himself or the chaos of life, there’s no way he’ll fit into mine.”

Sam seemed neither funny nor the kind of man who could give her an orgasm. He looked as if he’d talk her right to sleep. No, he was not Evie’s type—if she had a type. Which she did not. The closest “type” she had was F O X, her battery-operated boyfriend who was the undefeated champion of the World of Os.

“Where did you get this?”

Sam looked confused. “On ClickByte. I thought about messaging, but you know what they say about the early bird and all that. My favorite video is the one of you twerking in the kitchen to Britney Spears.”

“There’s more than one?” she croaked.

“Oh, a new one is posted every day.”

Evie looked down the counter to Julie, who was smiling, and Evie shot her a look that could make Bundy confess and beg for mercy. Julie’s smile just widened.

“I am so sorry, Sam. But I’m not really dating right now.”

Sam looked relieved. It wasn’t as if Evie were looking for a date, but did he have to let her off the hook so easily? “Can I at least get a video with you to get our moms off my back?”

Evie gulped. “My mom set us up?”

“Kind of. She showed my mom the video, my mom got excited about grandkids, and well, here I am, holding a bouquet of pencils.”

First, Julie was going to die, quickly, followed by her mother. “I’m sorry that you were roped into this.”

Sam didn’t answer. Without warning, he hit record. “So, I’m here with the You’ve Got Male girl, uh, Evie. I’m not her Joe Fox, but I know he’s out there. For the record, guys, go with a single red rose, you might fare better than a bouquet of pencils.”

“It wasn’t the pencils—”

But Sam had already hit stop. Evie watched in horror at the number of hearts that immediately lit up the screen. “How many followers do you have?”

“Not me. You’ve Got Male. I tagged your account in the post. I bet this will have a hundred thousand views by the end of the day.”

“A hundred thousand views?” She tried to swallow but horror was too far lodged in her throat.

“Good luck finding your Joe Fox.”

…

“You posted a video of me?” Evie snapped at Julie, who didn’t even bother to look apologetic. Nope. Her ride or die had sold her out and looked proud of herself.

“Multiple, actually. And girl, you are a hot commodity. Thousands of guys want to date the famous You’ve Got Male girl. Just check out your account.”

“I don’t have an account.”

“You do now.”

“You made me an account?”

“You weren’t going to and what are friends for if not to be the best wing-girl on the planet?”

Evie crossed her arms. “A good wing-girl would ask permission first.”

“Yeah, I’m more of a seek-forgiveness-later type.”

“You told a strange man where I work.”

“That was kind of a mistake. The Grinder logo was on your shirt.”

Julie opened the video and pointed to the logo, but Evie was too focused on her frizzy hair and smudged mascara to notice. “Then there’s this one.” She swiped up and another video of Evie offering bagel balls popped up. She swiped again. “And this is my personal favorite.”

Evie was sucking on a popsicle like she was a porn star. “It was hot in the kitchen and I needed a blood sugar boost.”

“Well, your sucking technique is five stars because this is the most viewed video. Over a million views. The public loves it.”

“Julie,” she groaned. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You said you don’t have time to go out and meet guys, so I brought the guys to you.”

“Social media isn’t the answer to everything.”

“Maybe not, but it can get you laid.”