by Sara Celi
“Nah, these aren’t heavy. Just a little awkward.”
“Okay.” I nodded at the other tent, the one next to the car line of people waiting. “I still can’t believe that there are so many people who showed up.”
“It’s a lot.” Kyle pursed his lips. “People aren’t doing so hot.”
“Nope.”
He took a few steps, then turned back to me. “Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything, but Ashley mentioned this earlier about someone you both know.”
“What’s that?”
Kyle hesitated. “She said Kendra Collins was in the line earlier. I think she was with her dad.”
“Kendra Collins?” Kendra Collins?
“Ashley was really worried about her. You know, being in line here.”
“I didn’t realize Kendra was back from New York.” I thought about it. “In fact, I haven’t seen her in over a year. Ever since the last party we had at The Frosted Heart.”
“Seems so long ago.”
“It does.”
“Well, I just thought you’d want to know she’s back.” Kyle adjusted his grip on the boxes. “Also, I thought about what you said about the grand opening. Let’s have it at the end of next week when there’s supposed to be good weather.”
“Okay,” I replied, my mind still on Kendra.
“We’ll start putting the word out on social media and other places,” he added. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
My friend left, and I stared at the remaining pile of boxes for a long time. Kendra Collins—I had to admit, I hadn’t thought about her much in the last few months. She was in New York City and that was far away—that wasn’t part of my daily life.
Even though I’d had a secret, simmering crush on her.
How could I not? The woman I knew was beautiful in so many ways—thin, tall, and sculpted from years of pushing her body to the limit. Bright green eyes and soft brown hair rounded out her porcelain skin, and she had a way of making people feel at ease. Rather, she had a way of making me feel at ease. More than once I’d thought of reasons to hire her at my nightclub, throwing theme parties at The Frosted Heart when I knew she was in town just so I’d have an excuse to see her in the crowd.
If there was anyone who might get me to settle down or walk away from my usual string of meaningless dates and one-night hookups, it was her.
And now she was here. Back in the Cincinnati area. Not in New York City.
I frowned. But this isn’t right at all. Seth said Ashley saw Kendra in line for a food box, and that meant—oh God, that means she’s in real trouble.
I shook my head, knowing I couldn’t dwell on it. I needed to get to work. I picked up an armload of boxes. People were hungry and they needed help. Far be it from me to stop that effort. I slapped a decal on one box, then another, and finally a third.
But then my thoughts drifted back to Kendra Collins.
We’d all had a bad year—that was a given. I didn’t know anyone who hadn’t been affected by the pandemic, and everyone had some form of hardship and bad news. Plenty of people had lost family members and friends to the disease, to say nothing of the people who’d suffered economically because of the fallout from rolling business closures and lockdowns.
That sad group included me.
Once it became obvious that no one would be dancing, drinking, and partying in large groups for the foreseeable future, I’d had to let my staff go and close The Frosted Heart. The process wiped me out financially. Devasted me. If Kyle hadn’t stepped in with a job and a purpose, I might have found myself on the other side of a food line too.
So, I could empathize.
And in a way, I was sad I hadn’t thought about her plight before. I’d read plenty of stories about how the virus decimated the NYC arts scene, closing theaters, galleries, ballet companies, and fledgling artist colonies. It made sense the problems would have affected Kendra too.
God, I hated what this pandemic had done to all of us. No one was immune from its destruction.
I put a sticker on one other box and took my phone from my pocket. I still had Kendra’s phone number in my contact list, and we’d exchanged plenty of texts over the last few years, mostly centered on the type of costume she should wear for whatever party I was throwing. We might not have chatted in a long time, but it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibilities for me to reach out to her.
I opened the texting app and typed out a simple message: Hey, I was wondering how you were doing. I know it’s been a weird year. Hope you’re well. I studied it for a moment and then hit send. It was way above normal of the things I usually sent her, but what did that matter? The time for the usual had passed long ago.
Might as well talk to someone I cared about.
THREE
KENDRA
I had to admit, not only was it kind of the Watch Hill Community Church to provide the food boxes, but it was also awesome they didn’t scrimp on what they handed out to the people. I didn’t have much experience with that type of thing, but I had to imagine that most charity food drives didn’t include fresh vegetables, a wrapped whole chicken, or boxes of name brand food.
For the first time in several weeks, I wasn’t freaked out by a lack of food in my dad’s fridge or the dwindling money in the bank. Now, if I can just find some steady work . . .
“I’m going to make some stew with what we got,” I said to Dad from the kitchen. He sat on the couch in the living room of the small Cape Cod, a house we’d had for all my life in the town of Fairview, a community that butted up to Watch Hill but had none of the quaint qualities of our bigger neighbor. “And I’ll leave it on the stove so you can eat it when I leave for work.”
“Thanks, honey, I appreciate that,” Dad replied, the faint buzz of a newscast playing on the TV across from him. “What time are you starting?”
I glanced at the wall clock near the refrigerator. “In about half an hour.”
“Will you be gone all night?”
“I don’t know. I’ll probably stay locked into the app for a while and see how many people place orders to-go since it’s Saturday night.”
“Hopefully, a lot.”
“Hopefully.”
I took a large pot from the kitchen cabinet and put it on the range, then set about filling it with whatever qualified as a large and cheap stew. Dad wasn’t too picky about the food that he ate, and he was more than willing to overlook my efforts to stretch the limited amount we had into as many healthy meals as I could create.
Once satisfied with what I’d made, I went to my small bedroom, threw on a jeans jacket, and slid a baseball cap over my head. Working as a delivery driver for FoodSwap meant dressing for comfort, since I’d spend my evening couriering food all over the city to get whatever tips I could make. It wasn’t easy, but if I worked hard enough, a decent night would bring in one hundred bucks or more. And God, we needed every one of those dollars.
Tonight needs to be a good night.
After saying goodbye to my dad, I slipped out the back door, and climbed into the aging SUV he bought before he had to stop working. I hadn’t needed a car in New York, so it was the only one we had, but I knew after dinner he’d most likely spend the rest of the evening staring at one of the many reality shows on the TV. I hooked the phone onto the charger and unlocked it, ready to sign in on the FoodSwap app and get my directions for the evening.
One text message awaited me. Seth Sampson.
Of course.
I leaned against the car seat and contemplated the message for a moment before I opened it. This meant one thing—Ashley must have told Seth she’d seen me in the food line earlier. I wasn’t stupid, that would be the only reason he’d contacted me.
We weren’t friends. I worked for him sometimes. That was all.
Except . . .
Except I liked him. I did. That was probably one of the biggest reasons why I said yes every time he texted, asking me to be a “hype person” for one his parties. Over the course of a
few years, I’d dressed up as a can-can dancer, marionette, Marilyn Monroe, female superhero, or extra from a classic grindhouse film. If I was in town, I never said no. Besides, The Frosted Heart one of the best nightclubs in the region, and he owned it.
Which gave him an extra magnetism.
Beyond that—I liked how he smiled at me, and how he made me feel whenever he saw me, as if there wasn’t anyone else in the club, or any other person at the party.
Seth had it, and I wanted it.
I unlocked the message. The drama of the last few months had prevented me from keeping up with him, but now that he’d reached out, I was curious. A flicker of interest was growing into a flame, and it wouldn’t take much to stoke it.
Seth: Hey, I was wondering how you were doing. I know it’s been a weird year. Hope you’re well.
Three sentences, less than twenty words. No big deal at all. And yet I read it at least five times before I replied.
Me: Thanks for the text. I’m doing okay. Hope you’re doing good too.
Simple enough. And true in a lot of ways. We were doing okay, despite the problems Dad and I recently faced. Neither of us had gotten sick from the virus, we’d both been vaccinated, and we had our home thanks to Dad’s efforts to pay off the mortgage during my childhood. I still had hope, and if I had that I’d be able to make it. We could make it.
I closed the message app and opened up FoodSwap. Time to get to work.
FOUR
SETH
“We need more help. A lot more.”
I keyed the newest order into the cash register and turned to Tyler. He’d agreed to work that night to give Kyle a rare night off from the restaurant. The food drive had been a huge success, but Kyle and Ashley were tired. They deserved some time to themselves.
But we were busier, and I felt a change in the air. The warmer weather and the availability of COVID vaccines meant more people wanted to venture out, and for some of them, that meant ordering dinner from the restaurant.
“Can you call someone?” I asked.
“Who?”
“Well, we could use some extra delivery people.”
I wandered into the kitchen and pulled a tray of fresh dough from the rack. A row of toppings was nearby, and I spread some of the pizza’s signature sauce on top. This order called for extra cheese, green peppers, and Italian sausage. It needed to go in the oven as fast as I could make it.
“Do you know anyone?” I added over my shoulder as I covered the sauce in peppers.
“Not someone available tonight,” Tyler replied. “It’s the weekend.”
I winced. Once, in another life, the phrase “it’s the weekend” was incredibly loaded, full of all kinds of implication. The weekend was where I made my money, where I made the magic for the people who patronized The Frosted Heart. Working in that industry meant the weekends came with all kinds of extra pressure, as I tried to create epic nights that people would document on social media.
“The weekend. Right.” I thought about it for a moment, then turned to face Tyler. “I don’t have any ideas, either, but we need someone to help us, and I don’t want to disturb Kyle and Ashley about it.”
“Can’t remember the last time they’ve had a regular Saturday night to themselves. Kyle is always here.”
“I can empathize.” I snapped my fingers as an idea came to me. “What if we use FoodSwap?”
“FoodSwap?” Tyler’s face brightened. “We could.”
“They could get us a few delivery drivers to help with these orders. I know it cuts into the margin for the restaurant, but the good thing is it doesn’t have to be a permanent change.”
“We can hire them for the night.” Tyler took a fresh order of pizza bread from the large oven behind him. That was by far the business’s most popular item, and I knew we’d have to make at least a dozen more that evening. “Let’s do it.”
Not needing any other validation, I finished the pizza in front of me, slipped it into the oven, and rushed into the small office in the back of the business. It would only take a few moments to tell the FoodSwap server we needed help, and I already had the app on my phone. I unlocked the device.
A message from Kendra awaited me.
My stomach lurched, glad she’d bothered to reply. That was promising—at least she still acknowledged me, and at least she was still answering the people who were part of her old life. I considered reading it, but then decided to save the message for later. We needed to get hooked into the FoodSwap system, and we needed to do it now. The restaurant simply couldn’t afford it.
I opened the app, keyed into the system, and took a small breath of relief. Help was on the way.
Just in time.
KENDRA
I was right.
It was a busy night, and for that, I was grateful. I had my first order pickup moments after I pulled out of the driveway, and the second within two minutes of delivering the first. The tempo kept up through the dinner rush, and I dutifully ferried drinks, sushi, hamburgers, chicken wings, barbecue, and more all around the eastern half of the Cincinnati metro area.
With each completed order, I watched the payout tally on the FoodSwap app tick upward. That was another thing to like about working as a freelancer for the company—the money would hit my account the following business day, which eliminated the worry that would have come with waiting for a paycheck. Any reduction in worry was a good thing. A really good thing.
FoodSwap sent me a pickup for Watch Hill Pizza around eight that night.
I was already in the area, having dropped off an order of chicken sandwiches at a house on one of the cul-de-sacs near the edge of Watch Hill. The algorithm must have used my GPS location data to recommend me as the delivery driver. Two pizzas and an order of pizza bread for a total of forty bucks, give or take. The tip I got in addition to the usual delivery fee would probably also be decent; people who lived around this part of town tended to be generous.
Still, I hesitated.
Even though I didn’t keep up with Cincinnati gossip while living in New York City, my various social media accounts kept me informed enough to know that Kyle and Ashley were part of the pizza parlor management team. She had a knack for lighting and an eye for photography, and I’d seen more than one artistic shot of food from the joint on her account over the last several months. Moving back to the area had given me more time than I wanted to admit for mindless scrolling on apps that were really time-sucks—I knew there was a decent chance that accepting this order would cause me to run into one of them.
But I needed the money. We needed the money. And that trumped everything else.
Steeling myself, I hit accept on the app and drove to the restaurant. This would only take a few minutes, and maybe I could hide behind my neck gaiter and baseball cap. One good thing about the lingering effects of the pandemic—some people still wore masks, and that strip of fabric gave me something to hide behind if I wanted to do so. Once I parked, I wrapped the gaiter across my face, pulled the ballcap tight on my head, and steeled my nerves. Go time.
“Pickup for FoodSwap,” I said to the guy behind the register in the main dining room. Some restaurants had resumed full indoor dining but Watch Hill Pizza still had only half the tables it would have before COVID hit, and no one ate at them that evening. “You should see it on the app.”
“Sure thing.” He punched a few buttons on the register. He was skinny and younger than I was. I didn’t know him. Once he finished, he called over his shoulder. “Can you bring out order forty-five?”
“Coming right up,” said a voice I knew immediately.
My toes curled and my stomach sank. That was Seth Sampson. I knew it was. Oh no. The owner of the voice walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room not a half second later, two pizza boxes and a smaller carboard container balancing on his hand.
“Here’s the—oh my God.”
“What?” The guy behind the register looked at Seth, then at me. “Is there a problem?”
> “Kendra?” Seth stepped closer to me. “Kendra Collins?”
“Well, I—”
“Take off your mask,” Seth demanded. “I want to see if it’s you.”
With a sigh, I complied. He’d already recognized me anyway. No hiding now. “It’s me. How are you doing, Seth?”
“Good.” He frowned and glanced at the other worker. “Tyler, do you mind giving us a moment?”
“Sure,” Tyler replied. He wavered. “Um . . . why don’t I go ahead and take care of cleaning up for tomorrow. We need to refill the sauces.” With a quick nod, he left us and went back to the kitchen to do what I guessed was basically a made-up task.
“Hi,” Seth said when we were alone again. He put the pizza order on the nearby counter. “I saw you texted me back, and I didn’t have time to reply yet.”
“That’s okay.” I studied him. “So . . . you work here?”
Seth nodded. “Kyle was kind enough to give me some work after I had to close The Frosted Heart.”
“I’m sorry about that. Had to be tough.”
“I got through it.”
“That’s kind of the mantra these days. Just get through it, as that’s the only way to really make it.”
“I keep telling myself that.”
“No matter what, things are getting better. Businesses are reopening, people are getting their shots . . .”
“I got mine a few weeks ago.” My shoulders relaxed a bit as I found myself easing into this conversation. We were a few moments in, and he hadn’t asked me why I was working as a driver for FoodSwap. Maybe he wouldn’t. God, I hope he won’t . . . “I was able to get it earlier since my dad had health problems and I'm his main caregiver.”
“Is that what brought you back to town?”
“Yes.” Not totally a lie. “Yes, it is.”
“I’m glad you got it. I’m sure you are breathing a bit easier.” He laughed. “Pun intended, I guess. You can always count on me for a stupid joke.”
“Yes, I can.”
