Hangry

by Lily Kate

  “Fine!”

  “Look, I know it’s difficult to make everything connect,” Sasha says. “This is a low margin business. I get it. I own the place next door, if you haven’t heard.”

  I offer a reluctant smile, then lean against the counter. “Business has been quiet these last few weeks.”

  Sasha gives a tense shake of her head. “I know. A few new coffee shops popped up downtown, and I’m feeling it, too. That’s all the more reason you can’t have dead weight hanging around. If Theo’s not doing his job, cut him loose.”

  “I don’t want to fire Theo. He’s saving up to go on spring break.”

  “Saving up by talking on the phone in the alley!”

  “He and his girlfriend are having problems.”

  “Tell them to have problems off the clock,” Sasha says. “You can’t keep breaking your back for people who aren’t working hard. Come on, girlfriend. I have confidence in you.”

  “I know, but—”

  “I’m not yelling at you,” she says, more gently. “I’m not trying to chastise you. I know you run a great business, and you care a lot. Maybe it’s just me being worried and frazzled, and I’m taking it out on you.”

  “No. You’re right. We’re barely making rent as it is,” I confess. “I’ve been here almost twelve hours a day the last few weeks, and it’s wearing on me.”

  “It sucks.”

  “Yeah. I’m trying to find a way to bring customers back. I’ve tried specials and deals, weekly treats, everything. I’m running out of ideas.”

  “If I knew, I’d tell you. The only thing keeping us afloat is a cheaper lease and low overhead. It’s just me and Callie. You have Rick, Theo, the janitors, the... I don’t even know.”

  “Well, we’ve gotta figure out something. Otherwise, Minnie’s will get... even more mini. Until it disappears.”

  “Don’t say that.” Sasha reaches across the counter and squeezes my hand. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

  “Waffles are ready,” Luis calls from the stove. “Get ‘em while they’re hot.”

  I reach for the proffered tray, ignoring Luis as he mouths Theo to me over and over again. Instead, I make my way across the room and check on the two businessmen who’ve taken out phones and appear to be studying them in great detail.

  “Waffles are ready. How’d you like the cookies?” I set the plates on the table. The cookies are gone and their coffees are halfway empty.

  “Delicious,” the first man says. “Finished the thing in one bite.”

  “I’ll take a refill,” the second man says. “Best coffee I’ve had in a long while.”

  I grab the carafe, return to the table, and top both of their mugs off. “Did you two say what brings you in here today?”

  “A friend recommended it,” the second man says.

  “A good one,” the first man agrees. “We’ll most certainly be back.”

  It’s at this moment that Kitty returns from the bathroom, sidling up next to me at the table. “Hello, gentlemen,” she purrs in a French accent. “Those waffles look incredible. Mind if I join you for un caffé?”

  Somehow, Kitty has transformed. She showed up here in a boho-chic skirt, a tank top, and sandals that complimented the beautiful spring day outside. While in the bathroom, she’d added red lipstick, mascara, and a French accent to make her a stunning seductress.

  I roll my eyes and leave her to her work, returning to Sasha at the counter.

  “She’s nuts,” Sasha says as I grab Kitty’s mug of coffee. “Which accent did she choose this time?”

  “French. How does she do it?”

  The men at the table, whoever they are, have gone gaga over her. They’ve even argued over which side of the table had more room so that Kitty wouldn’t feel constricted as she joined them.

  I drop off the coffee and back away silently. Kitty doesn’t even look up, listening raptly to whatever the man is saying. It sounds boring, business-like, and I’m willing to bet that Kitty’s ripping her hair out on the inside. There’s nothing she hates more than dull conversation.

  I stand at the counter with Sasha as Kitty daintily adds cream to her coffee, then drops a sugar cube straight onto her tongue.

  “That girl is something else,” Sasha says. “If Kitty gave up being an artist and decided to pursue acting, she’d be famous in a second.”

  “Yet she would still want to paint,” I say. “Go figure. Better that way, though, otherwise she’d move to Hollywood and leave us small people behind.”

  Sasha snorts with laughter. “She looks like she’s about to die.”

  “I’m getting the vibe they’re not regaling her with lovely and interesting tales about their travels around the world.” I tap my fingers against the counter. “I give her five minutes.”

  “Three,” Sasha says. “What are we betting?”

  “If I win, I want a dozen cookies for personal use.”

  Sasha nods. “If I win, you’re coming over this Friday and fixing waffles for ladies’ night.”

  “Am I invited to ladies’ night even if I win?”

  “This is your invitation,” she says with a wink. “Bring Kitty as your plus one.”

  “My last ladies’ night with Kitty didn’t go well,” I say. “We tried to knit.”

  Sasha scrunches up her nose. “I express my craftiness through baking. My ladies’ nights are for movies, wine, and food.”

  “Deal.” I shake her hand, but we’re not even finished with the shake when Kitty returns to the table. I glance at Sasha. “Neither of us win. That couldn’t have been more than a minute. What happens now?”

  “Were you betting on me again?” Kitty frowns over us. “I told you not to underestimate me. What were the guesses?”

  “Three minutes,” Sasha said quickly. “But Lexi guessed five.”

  “Five minutes of conversation with them, and I would’ve killed myself,” Kitty says with a dramatic flourish. “They’re in real estate. How boring.”

  “Real estate?” A chill goes down my spine. “Why were they asking all sorts of questions about my space?”

  “Don’t worry, they had a client that’s looking to expand their business. They were considering this space, but I convinced them it’s utterly horrible,” Kitty says. “Broken pipes, weird smells, homeless people outside.”

  “None of that’s true,” I say. “Except the homeless people, sometimes. And the weird smell was from the one time Theo forgot an egg in his backpack.”

  “I don’t want to know,” Kitty says, raising a hand. “I did my job, and now you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Nothing to worry about?!” I look at Sasha. “What if Chris is looking to sell?”

  “He is getting old,” Sasha says. “Do you think he’d do that?”

  “What would happen to us?” I blink, panic sliding into my stomach. “They could shut us down. Not right away, but eventually.”

  “Aren’t there laws about that?” Kitty asks. “Can they really just kick you out?”

  “I’m sure there are ways,” I say. “Chris cut us a great deal, and now we’re locked in. If the new owner wants to bump the rent up even a little...”

  Sasha’s knuckles tighten around her cup of coffee. “We don’t know that’s what they’re doing for sure. Maybe they were trying to impress Kitty.”

  Kitty sprawls on the stool. “They’re still in the research phase, no offers yet. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

  “Famous last words,” I say. “I’ll call Chris tonight and find out. Right now, I have to locate Theo.”

  “Don’t stress,” Sasha says, eyeing me with concern. “It’ll all work out. It always does.”

  I nod while I print out the bill for the two real estate men. I bring it to the table and drop it off. “Thanks for stopping in today.”

  One of them hands over his credit card, offering me a polite smile. “The waffles were delicious. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again, Miss Monroe.”

 
; If it’d been anyone else, I would’ve been thrilled to have a repeat customer. But this time, somehow, the words ring with a hint of foreboding. I run the credit card, drop off the bill for a signature, and storm out to the alley behind the diner.

  “Theo!” I call. “Break’s over!”

  The twenty-something college student looks up with a guilty expression, murmurs a good bye, then snaps his phone shut. “Sorry about that, I had an, uh, issue with...”

  “Right,” I say, interrupting him. “I like you a lot, Theo, but some things are going to change if you want to keep working here. No more hour-long phone calls, please. I don’t want to be the mean boss, but I need your help inside.”

  “Okay.” He moves sheepishly past me. “Sorry, boss.”

  “Great!” I throw my hands up and move to the front of the counter where I rejoin Kitty and Sasha. “Now I feel like a cranky asshole boss, I have a twitchy eyelid, and I’ve eaten three cookies this morning.”

  “Sounds like you need a way to let off steam,” Sasha says with a sly look at Kitty. “I know one way to do that.”

  “Knock on his door,” Kitty says. “Wear your sexiest robe and ask Bradley Hamilton to help you blow off some steam.”

  “I’m not having sex with my neighbor and best friend as stress relief,” I say. Then correct myself. “Former best friend.”

  “Fine.” Sasha stands to leave, taking the coffee mug with her. “Then die young from chronic stress.”

  “There’s got to be another way. What do normal people do?”

  Kitty stands to leave, too. “You know our solution. I’m telling you—you need endorphins.”

  I sigh, exhale an expletive, and get back to work. There’s got to be a way to burn off stress that doesn’t involve getting naked. Not that I’m opposed to getting naked with the right person, but Bradley Hamilton is all sorts of wrong for me.

  If he’d been right, we’d already have gone on a date together. He wouldn’t have waited a month to ask me out; he would’ve called me the next day. It’s been a month and a day, and now I’m the desperate one counting the hours.

  Suddenly, I’m angry at him. Angry at Bradley for making me wait. For getting my hopes up, and then ruining me all over again. Is that what this whole thing was about? Him getting some sort of twisted revenge on me?

  “Luis, I’m leaving for lunch,” I tell him. “Rick should be in any minute. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  I stomp out of the diner.

  “Where are you going?” Sasha calls after me from her shop.

  Kitty has meandered over to the sweet shop, and is now sneaking a latte from Sasha’s counter.

  “Bradley freaking Hamilton,” I yell over my shoulder. “The man’s gonna answer a few of my questions.”

  “You’re not thinking straight,” Kitty says. “Maybe wait until you’ve calmed down?”

  I turn, unlock my car, and climb into the front seat. “Actually, this can’t wait.”

  Chapter 6

  BRADLEY

  I’m staring at the coffee table in my apartment. There are two piles of paper in front of me, and my eyes shift between them. First one, then the other.

  I size them both up, debating which problem to tackle first. It feels a bit like The Matrix. Except instead of choosing between the red and the blue, I have to take care of both.

  I pull one stack closer to me and skim it over. It’s depressing as hell. Over the last few months, my business partner, Leo, has been growing more and more distant. He’s scheduling shifts opposite mine and canceling catch up meetings that used to be mandatory. Little by little he’s been slipping away, but now, it’s too much to not notice.

  Most recently, he showed up to work in a new car. That was the kicker. We make the same amount of money—or at least we should be, since we started off with the same amount of money—and I know he sure as hell can’t afford the Lamborghini he’s driving.

  I could barely afford it, and I have years of pro-hockey money behind my back. When we started our gym, Leo put every last penny of his into it, and more. He hasn’t earned enough to buy a quarter-million dollar car with our business, and as far as I know, he doesn’t have a side hustle.

  So, the stack of papers is a line item spreadsheet of all our costs, expenses, and revenue, and I’m bound and determined to find out what’s happening. If Leo’s extra cash is coming from the gym... if I find out he’s skimming from me, there will be hell to pay.

  After all, this gym isn’t just my job, it’s not my hobby, it’s not my passion—it’s all of them, together. When my knee blew out during the last game I played on the ice, I threw myself into the gym with everything I had. It’s all I have now.

  I’d never thought Leo to be a fool or a crook—ruthless, maybe, and sharp. But to try and steal from me would be foolhardy and stupid. Let’s hope Leo’s not stupid. For everyone’s sake.

  But just in case, I’ve been looking around. I even talked to a real estate buddy of mine to see if there’s any new space for a gym near here. Even if nothing’s wrong, it might be time for a split. I don’t half-ass my business, and lately, it’s been feeling like Leo’s got other priorities. Maybe it’s time to step out on my own.

  A few minutes of combing through the numbers and my head is starting to spin. Back when I was supposed to be learning math, I was for more interested in hockey, girls, and hockey. Emphasis on the hockey.

  There’d been a few girls along the way, but only one had ever meant anything to me. The one who’s been there all along. Lexi Monroe.

  And now, she hates my guts.

  I exhale with a whoosh and turn to the second stack which, speak of the devil, has her name scrawled across the top of it. Underneath it is a book called The Best Restaurants of the Cities, a pamphlet called Taste the Cities, and a print out of Yelp’s top ten eateries in the local area.

  They all suck.

  I’ve been tearing my hair out for a month trying to find a place just right for us. For her. None of them are good enough. I’ve got one shot to make things right with Lexi, and I’ll be pissed if I blow it because the food tastes like butt cheek.

  I see the way she’s been avoiding me this past month. I’ve been trying my damndest to run into her—hell, I’ve been late to work for the last three days because I know her schedule by now and try to time my trips into the hallway. But every time there’s the threat of her running into me, she slams the door in my face and pretends she’s forgotten her purse inside.

  Now a month has gone by, and she’s probably thinking I’ve forgotten all about our date, when the fact of the matter is that it’s the polar opposite. I’ve been thinking of her while at the gym, at home, in the shower, before I fall asleep at night... and I’ve been thinking about the restaurants, too.

  “Lexi Monroe,” I mumble, scrolling through the list of restaurants again. “Where the hell would you like to eat?”

  My musings are interrupted by a furious pounding on the door. It’s not a knock, it’s not a light tap, it’s hardly even a pound. This is a thunderstorm annihilating my door.

  I leap to my feet, glance down, and discover I’m still shirtless. I’ve got jeans on and was previously debating going to the grocery store, but hadn’t made it off the couch yet. Instead, I ordered pizza. Maybe that’s the pizza. If it’s the pizza, my delivery guy sounds pissed.

  I check the peephole, just to be safe, and discover that it’s no pizza man standing out there—it’s Lexi Monroe. I briefly wonder whether she’ll appear every time I mutter her name. Could be convenient, depending on how things go between us. It’s like magic.

  “Hello?” I pull the door open so quickly she falls partway through it. “Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

  “How do you blow off steam?!”

  “Excuse me?”

  Lexi storms through my apartment, moving all hunched over and furious like a werewolf. She goes straight to my refrigerator, yanks the door open and looks inside, then closes it with a frown.

 
; “Are you hangry again?” I ask. “I have a pizza on the way.”

  She gives me the death stare.

  “Sorry,” I mutter. “Didn’t mean it.”

  Next up for scrutiny is my dish drying rack, which contains nothing except for a mug and a bowl used for cereal this morning. She gives up, turning her rampage toward the living room.

  Her eyes land on the coffee table at the same moment as mine.

  I leap for the stacks of paper.

  She leaps faster.

  It’s a good thing I’m bigger.

  She snaps up the stacks in her hand first, but I’m right there next to her. Lexi brings the papers around her back, but that only gives me a reason to put my hands there, too.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I’m pressed against her, my arms resting over hers, keeping her fingers clasped tight so she can’t get a glimpse of her name scrawled all over my papers.

  She remains quiet, but her breathing is heavy. Little puffs of air hit me in the chest, and I’m struck by how petite she is. Maybe not in the general world of women—she must be just over five and a half feet or so—but next to my six foot three frame, she’s tiny.

  “Lexi.” I gently tease the papers away from her, but this sets off a chain reaction. I move closer, our bodies aligning one another from head to toe. I could kiss her now, if I wanted to. God help me, I want to kiss her, but I don’t want a slap across the cheek, so I refrain. “What are you doing here?”

  Her shoulders slump, and to my surprise, she leans against me. She forfeits the papers and her hands fall to her sides. It’s an odd, one-sided sort of hug, and I’m stuck patting her on the back because I don’t know what else to do.

  “I’m sorry.” She straightens, but her hands come up to clutch at my arms.

  Her head rests against my bare chest, and I decide to forego my concern with the papers. If I’m not mistaken, she’s on the verge of tears. I drop the stacks onto the couch.