Chilled to the Cone

by Ellie Alexander

  I tugged off my sweatshirt, glad that I had layered my clothing for the day. “Here, wrap this around your hand. I’m going to find a first-aid kit. Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance? That might need stitches.”

  He followed my directions and pressed the sleeve of my sweatshirt onto his injury. “No. Like the Wizard said, we don’t want to see the cops. They’ll make trouble for us.”

  What was their resistance to the police? Did it have to do with the guy who’d been chasing them? Maybe they had stolen from him. But if they had, there was no need for Sky or the Wizard to worry about the police. I had witnessed firsthand how the Professor and Thomas interacted with Ashland’s homeless population. They were nothing but kind and worked diligently to find solutions and support for the unhoused versus tossing them in jail for panhandling.

  “I’m not going to call the police,” I said, standing. “But we need to take care of your hand.”

  “No! Don’t listen to her,” the Wizard shouted, waving his hands wildly. “They’ll come and they’ll try to take us, Sky. Don’t do it!”

  I wasn’t about to hang around and argue the merits of Ashland’s police force. “Keep an eye on your friend,” I said to the Wizard. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  The Wizard followed my command. I headed for Addie’s yoga studio. I took the stairs to the small wraparound porch two at a time. A reception area with a single desk and shelving for expensive yoga gear was empty. Calm bluish lighting and the gurgling sounds of an indoor water feature gave the entryway a tranquil feel. A class schedule hung behind the desk. According to the calendar, Addie was currently teaching Gentle Yoga for beginners.

  I didn’t want to riffle through the reception area, so I walked down the hallway and carefully opened the studio door. The open room had natural pine-wood floors and an abundance of natural light thanks to two skylights. About twenty students were positioned on floor mats in Child’s Pose.

  When I opened the door, every head popped up.

  Addie shot me a nasty look.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” I approached her, keeping my voice barely above a whisper. “There’s been an accident outside and I was wondering if you have a first-aid kit.”

  “An accident?” She stood on her tiptoes to see out the side window. A flash of disgust clouded her face. “For him—the freak show? No way. I’m not helping him. He’s probably faking it to try and get inside my studio. He’s not allowed in here.”

  Everything about Addie was in contradiction. Why would she refuse to help? I wasn’t asking her to perform surgery. I simply needed a first-aid kit.

  Two of her students moved to get up. Addie snapped her fingers. “Child’s Pose, now!”

  The class acquiesced. Everyone returned to the positions I’d found them in. “It’s not for the Wizard. A man flipped over on his bike. I think he might need stitches, but I won’t be able to tell until I can clean the wound.”

  She huffed and pointed to a cabinet in the far corner of the studio. “Fine. The first-aid kit is over there, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. That guy is crazy and super dangerous. I wouldn’t get involved if I were you.”

  I retrieved the first-aid kit while she instructed her class in their next move and got out of there before she changed her mind. Outside I found the Wizard sitting next to Sky.

  “How’s the patient?” I asked, putting on a pair of disposable gloves and removing antiseptic wipes from the first-aid kit. Professional kitchens can be quite dangerous. Burns, cuts, and falls are all hazards of the job, so ever since culinary school I had maintained my first-aid and CPR certification and insisted that my staff do the same.

  “It stings.” Sky pulled my sweatshirt from his hand, revealing a two-inch cut straight down the midline of his palm. He must have snagged it on something when he fell.

  “Can I clean it out for you?” I knelt next to him.

  He closed his eyes and thrust his hand toward me. I took that as a yes.

  The cut oozed as I carefully wiped gravel and dirt from his hand. He winced and stabbed his free hand into his thigh as I methodically disinfected the gash, wrapped it in gauze, and sealed it with medical tape. “You’re good to go,” I said, tugging off my gloves. “But you should keep an eye on that. If it bleeds through the gauze you probably need to go to the hospital and get stitches.”

  “Nah. I’m good. I don’t feel a thing now.” He wiggled his fingertips. His muted blond dreadlocks hung below his shoulders. Two black gauge plug earrings the size of quarters encompassed his earlobes.

  “You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?” I assessed him as he tried to stand. “Are you dizzy?”

  “No. Feeling good after the Wizard gave me this.” He took a drink from a silver flask he pulled from his back pocket.

  “Let’s go, Sky.” The Wizard stared into Addie’s studio. He pulled his friend up to his feet. Sky rocked to the left and then the right. Did he have a concussion? That had been a nasty fall. It had happened so quickly that I didn’t remember if he’d smacked his head on the pavement, but from the way he was swaying, he was either concussed or drunk. Given that it was just ten in the morning, I hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “I can get someone to give you a ride to the hospital.”

  Sky took another long slug from the flask. “Nah. Thanks, nurse.” He straddled his bike and started to hand me my Amour of the Seas sweatshirt. “You want this back?”

  “No, please keep it.”

  The Wizard gave me a formal bow. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Be sure to keep an eye on your friend’s cut. It can get infected easily.” I reached for the first-aid kit and pressed antibiotic ointment, gauze, and tape into his hand.

  He positioned his bike and flung his cape behind him. Before he rode off with Sky he made an obscene gesture at Addie’s studio. What was the deal with the two of them? Addie made it sound like he was dangerous, but from what I had just witnessed I wasn’t sure that I agreed with her. The Wizard had appeared genuinely concerned for Sky. I hoped that we weren’t putting ourselves in the middle of drama. Between the altercation I had witnessed with Hunter and the Wizard yesterday, Addie’s reaction to him this morning, and the mystery man who’d been chasing them, it was almost as if my fellow business owners in the Railroad District had a vendetta against the homeless man.

  Chapter Five

  I returned the first-aid kit to the studio. Addie was still teaching class, so I left it on the reception desk. Sterling and Andy arrived carrying three gallon buckets of paint and stain, brushes, and a large drop cloth at the same time I rounded the corner dragging the yard debris bin behind me.

  “You missed the action,” I said, dumping a pile of weeds into the bin.

  “What’s that, boss?” Andy balanced two gallons of paint in each hand.

  I told them about the Wizard and Sky.

  “It’s weird, isn’t it?” Sterling asked, setting down the drop cloth and a can of stain. “It’s sort of out of character for Ashland. Why harass a homeless guy? Unless he really is vandalizing things and stealing bikes. But what’s his beef with a yoga studio?”

  “Exactly.” I glanced toward Addie’s studio. “She keeps insisting that he’s dangerous, but I don’t get it.”

  “Because no one does,” Andy added.

  Sterling arranged a variety of different-size paintbrushes on one of the bistro tables. “A wise woman once told me to trust my instincts.”

  “Mom,” I said with a nod.

  “No.” Sterling scowled. “You, Jules.”

  “Did I say that?” I wrinkled my nose. “That was very wise of me.”

  “And she’s so humble,” Sterling said to Andy.

  I dropped the subject as we mapped out our strategy for painting.

  Andy would paint the fading trim around the coffee bar while Sterling and I concentrated on staining the fence and trellises. We had opted for a dark walnut stain with red underton
es. The darker stain should cover any flaws in the wood and give the garden new life.

  “Before we get started, Dean, the new milk vendor, is going to drop by with samples,” Sterling said, rolling up the sleeve of his hoodie to reveal a black sports watch. “Speak of the devil. He’s right on time.”

  To my surprise I looked up to see the guy who’d been chasing the Wizard and Sky. “You?”

  Dean stared at Sterling, who had gotten up to open the gate and then at me. “Do I know you?”

  I thrust my thumb over my shoulder. “I just saw you. I was helping the guy who fell on the tracks.”

  “Oh right.” Dean darted his eyes toward the railroad tracks. “I thought you looked familiar.” He carried a plastic cart with an assortment of glass milk bottles.

  “What were you doing?” I caught Sterling’s eye as he followed behind Dean.

  “Huh? Oh, that. That was nothing. Do you mind if I set this down?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “I’m tired of those homeless guys stealing my product. I find my milk bottles shattered all over the tracks. I’m going to have to get a lock for my trailer.”

  He began taking bottles of milk, heavy cream, and chocolate milk out of the crate.

  Sterling ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. “I guess you’ve sort of met. Jules, meet Dean. Dean, meet my boss, Jules.”

  One of the bottles slipped from Dean’s hand and landed sideways on the table. “Sorry about earlier,” Dean said, standing the bottle up. “You know how it is as a small-business owner, you can’t be too careful about the bottom line.”

  “Have you talked to the police about the theft?” I asked. Chasing two homeless guys on bikes didn’t seem like the most productive solution.

  “Nah. It’s no big deal. Don’t want to bother the cops with petty theft. Like I said, I’ll get a lock for my trailer. It’s frustrating more than anything. I give away free product all the time. That’s part of being here in the Railroad District. We see people in bad shape. I’m constantly offering samples and product that’s nearing its expiration to the homeless guys who hang around the tracks. It makes me crazy when they trash my stuff.” He sighed and poured thick, creamy milk into glasses. “Enough on that. Who wants a taste?”

  I couldn’t get a good read on Dean. He didn’t strike me as an organic farmer. More like a computer nerd posing as a farmer with his gangly frame, baggy pants cinched at the ankles, and tucked-in button-down shirt. I could understand his frustration with giving away free samples only to have his product stolen. It gave me new insight on his interaction with Sky and the Wizard.

  “My girlfriend runs the farm,” Dean said, passing around samples. “We’re purely organic. Our property is on the other side of I-5. Over by the hemp farms.”

  That would explain the faint whiff of hemp I kept smelling.

  Andy climbed off a ladder. He had taken down the two security cameras Addie had installed so that we didn’t damage them while staining the pergola. “Where do you want these, boss?” He held the white cameras in the palm of his hand.

  “Maybe put them on top of the fridge for now. I’ll ask Addie later.”

  “Cameras?” Dean untwisted the cap on a glass jug of milk. “High tech.”

  “They’re not ours. Addie had them installed,” I replied.

  “Got it.” Dean passed around more samples. “We do everything in small batches. Our cows are grass fed and free range, and that shows in the milk. Drink up. Give it a taste and let me know what you think. Once people try our milk they can’t go back to anything that’s been mass-produced. You’ll taste fresh grass in every sip.” He encouraged us to try the samples.

  I didn’t pick up on notes of fresh grass, but his milk was good.

  “Since we’re new to the game, we’re giving you and a few other businesses our exclusive introductory rate. As you’re tasting, with this quality product you’re getting a steal of deal.” Dean went into a sales pitch that wasn’t necessary. Mom and I had already agreed to a three-month trial.

  “Keep the samples.” Dean pushed bottles of milk at me. “Let me know when you want deliveries to start. Should I work with you or Sterling on that?”

  “Sterling will be your point of contact.” I stood and shook Dean’s hand.

  After he left, Andy put the milk samples in the fridge. Sterling and I prepped the fence for staining.

  “Sorry about that, Jules. I had no idea he was the guy who was chasing the Wizard.”

  “How could you? It’s not your fault, and in all fairness to Dean, I have no idea what the story is behind what happened on the tracks earlier.”

  “What do you think? Should we scrap the idea of working with him?” Sterling covered the gate hardware with blue painter’s tape. “I don’t want to force you into a business partnership you’re not comfortable with.”

  “I appreciate that. You don’t need to worry about me. His pricing is beyond reasonable for local, organic milk. In fact, I wonder how he can be making any profit with those prices. Let’s give it a try and see how it goes.” I knew that I had a soft spot in my heart for the Wizard and Sky. Mom had always teased that from the time I could walk I would collect strays. From lost cats to a baby deer that got separated from its mama, animals and people in need tended to gravitate toward me. It wasn’t fair to end our newly formed relationship with Dean. I had no idea if Sky and the Wizard really were stealing his milk and smashing the used bottles on the tracks. If it was true, it would explain his earlier outburst. Not that I approved of his methods, but I could understand his frustration.

  “Okay, I’ll keep an eye on him.” Sterling lugged buckets of stain to the fence.

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Sterling and I quickly developed a system. He painted one slat a time and I followed, wiping up any drips and filling in missing spots. It was tedious work, but it felt good to be outside in the pleasant spring air. It was a good thing we were outside because the strong fumes of the stain would have been overpowering in an enclosed space.

  “Jules, can I ask you something?” Sterling asked, dabbing his paintbrush into the bucket of stain.

  “Of course. You can ask me anything.” I was glad that I had worn a short-sleeved T-shirt underneath the sweatshirt I had given to Sky. As was typical in springtime in Ashland, the morning had warmed to the low seventies. Tiny pink blooms budded in the trees nearby. The scent of cherry blossoms mingled with the heavenly smells of Nana’s street food. I noticed a line had started queuing up in front of her truck.

  “It’s about Stephanie.” Sterling tucked a lock of his dark hair behind his ear, and rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing a beautiful hummingbird tattoo that ran the length of his forearm. “I know that you’re discrete, but I want to keep this between us.”

  “Absolutely.” I motioned as if I was zipping my lips shut. “Whatever you need to talk about will go no further.” I paused for a minute. “Wait, please don’t tell me that she’s quitting.”

  I had come to rely on Stephanie’s immense talent, especially when it came to design. She had an innate eye for color combinations and was meticulous with a piping bag. Buttercream was her natural medium. Our requests for custom-cake designs had tripled in the past year, thanks to Stephanie’s artistry.

  “No. Nothing like that.” He ran his brush along a slat of wood. “You know what housing is like in Ashland. It’s been a nightmare to find a decent place that doesn’t cost a couple grand a month.”

  I nodded.

  “A guy I know from the skate park gave me a heads-up on a new complex that his grandfather is developing in that empty lot across from the high school. I guess they already broke ground. They’re building three-story townhouses and according to my friend they’re going to be rent controlled.” He paused for a moment as a group of yoga students who had finished class stopped to take note of our progress.

  “That’s great.” I used a rag to dab excess stain from the top of a fence post.

  “Yeah. It’s abou
t time. I love Ashland. I’ve found my people here, but lately I’ve been wondering if I can afford to stay in the Rogue Valley.”

  “Sterling, no! Do not say that.” I dropped the rag and reached for the sleeve of his gray hoodie. “If you need a short-term loan, Mom and I will help. We’ll do anything to keep you. You’re such a valuable member of our team. What would I do without you?”

  “Chill, Jules.” His brilliant blue eyes flashed with his smile.

  “What about my house? I have plenty of space. In fact, I’ve been thinking about offering up one of the spare rooms to a college student. I’d be happy to have you stay with me for however long you need.” The thought of losing Sterling made me ill. Of course I hadn’t broached the subject of leasing our rooms with Carlos. If things didn’t work out with us, that was my backup plan.

  Stop, Jules, I scolded myself. You can’t think like that.

  “Thank you for the offer, Jules, really. I appreciate it, but I want my own place, and these new townhouses sound perfect. Not to mention, you have a lot going on right now with having Carlos around. I think it would be pretty weird to have one of your staff move in.”

  I started to protest, but he cut me off.

  “Here’s the deal—I want to ask Stephanie to move in with me. She only has one more year left at SOU and she’s tired of living in the dorms. I think if we moved in together we could afford one of the townhouses.”

  I smoothed out a streak of stain, buying myself a minute to respond. Sterling and Stephanie had been dating for over a year and they seemed like a well-matched couple, but moving in together was a big step. A step that in my opinion shouldn’t be taken because of finances.

  “What do you think Steph will say?” I asked.

  Sterling held his paintbrush in his right hand and met my eyes. “Look, Jules, I can tell by your face what you’re thinking. You’re pretty transparent.”

  I tried to keep my cheeks and brow as neutral as possible. “How so?”

  “You’re thinking I want to move in with her to save money. It’s not that. I swear. You know what Ashland is like. I could post an ad on Craigslist for a roommate and have a dozen offers within a couple minutes. I don’t want a roommate. I’m in love with Stephanie. She’s the one.” His eyes were filled with emotion. “I want to marry her, Jules.”