Blend

by Georgia Beers

  A moment of silence went by. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” Lindsay finally asked, as gently as she could.

  “Like you don’t know.” Piper flopped into a chair and glared at Lindsay.

  Lindsay shook her head, sure her surprise was clear. “I really don’t, Piper.”

  Piper sat forward, glared again. Lindsay hadn’t really seen those unique hazel eyes when they were angry. They were still gorgeous, just…harder. Colder. “I just came from Lakeshore.” Piper sat back clumsily, like her statement cleared everything up.

  Lindsay lifted her hands, palms up, expectant. “Okay?”

  “Lakeshore.” Piper enunciated the word, as if that would make her meaning clearer.

  “Piper, you’re going to have to help me here.”

  Piper inhaled loudly, then blew it out as if Lindsay was the thickest person on the planet. “Why isn’t Smooth playing here tonight?”

  Lindsay blinked at the seeming change of topic. “Um…they couldn’t. I asked. They had another gig.”

  “Yes, they did. At Lakeshore. They’re playing there right now.”

  Lindsay shrugged. “Okay.”

  Piper cocked her head and raised her eyebrows as if to say, “Really?”

  Again, Lindsay turned her palms up. “Bands play in different places. Coincidence.”

  “Lakeshore has wine flights.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Some of the same ones we do.”

  Lindsay did notice the plural there. When she’d looked, there had only been one. “How many?”

  “Five.”

  “The same ones as ours?” This was a surprise.

  Piper snorted. “Exactly the same. You know what else they have over there?”

  Piper’s face had gone hard. Lindsay could still tell she was drunk, but there was an unmistakable sharpness to her, in her eyes, like she’d sobered exponentially in the past minute or two. It made Lindsay uncomfortable. Slowly, Lindsay shook her head.

  “An outdoor patio. A brand-new one.”

  That was news. “They do?”

  “They do. And it’s furnished with exactly the same furniture you wanted to use, the stuff we priced. And it’s laid out the same.”

  “The same?” Lindsay pictured her own drawing, how thrilled she’d been to come up with the setup.

  “Exactly the same.”

  It was then that Lindsay really heard Piper’s tone. It was more than angry or surprised. It was…accusatory. Lindsay’s brow furrowed as she looked at Piper who stared back at her with those cold, hard eyes. “What are you saying, Piper?”

  “Seems pretty clear.”

  Lindsay expected to feel anger, but she didn’t. Rather, she felt a stab in her chest. Pain. Betrayal. “Just say it,” she said, her voice quiet.

  “I think you’re feeding our ideas to Lakeshore.”

  And there it was. Lindsay took it in, let her brain absorb it, was surprised by how much it hurt. “Why would I do that?” Again, her voice stayed quiet. Calm.

  “Simple. Because I won’t let you do what you want to here,” Piper said, her voice seeming extra loud when compared to Lindsay’s. “Because you don’t control the money. I do. You’re just the bartender. So you thought you’d go someplace else where they’d listen to you. Someplace that needs a boost.”

  Lindsay willed herself not to flinch at Piper’s words, not to let her know how much they stung. Quietly, in measured tones, she told her, “I have put my heart and soul into this place. I have nothing but the utmost respect for your parents and their vision of this wine bar.”

  Piper scoffed, and the sound made Lindsay clench her teeth. “Right. That’s why you’re doing everything you can to erase my father completely.” Piper’s voice faltered for the first time, and Lindsay was shocked to see her eyes well.

  “What?” Lindsay asked in disbelief. “Piper, I’m not…I would never…”

  “You’re trying to change everything.” Piper stood up then, nearly knocking her chair backward to the floor. Lindsay stood as well while Piper ticked things off on her fingers. “You changed the wall color. You added decorations to replace his. You’re adding wines he never would have.” Her breath came in gasps now. “And where is his sign? The big Vineyard sign that’s usually on the wall? He had that specially designed! It’s his.”

  Lindsay was stunned into silence. She didn’t know what to say or how to say it or if Piper would even hear her in her current state. “Piper, I—”

  Piper cut her off with a raised hand. “No. I don’t want to hear it. I’ve had enough. I can take over running this place.”

  Lindsay’s eyes went wide. “What?”

  “Yeah. Seems only fair that both of us get fired today. Leave your keys with Bridget.” And with that, Piper reached for the doorknob, missed, and tried again. Finally yanking the door open, she stumbled out into the back room as Lindsay watched in stupefied silence.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The doorbell rang.

  Was it the doorbell? Maybe not.

  Piper reached blindly for a pillow and pulled it over her head. She was face down in her bed and, judging by the fact that the room was bright even with her eyes closed, she had to guess it was later than her usual wake up time. She felt Edgar tromp across the backs of her thighs, probably annoyed he hadn’t gotten breakfast yet, but Piper didn’t care. She couldn’t move, and she knew if she tried to, the subtle throbbing in her head would turn into an unbearable pounding she didn’t have the energy to deal with.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Fuck,” Piper whispered, still not moving an inch. Maybe they’d just go away.

  She’d just about drifted off again when she heard a sound far more disturbing than the doorbell.

  The stairs squeaked.

  Specifically, the fourth stair from the living room. Piper knew it well.

  Somebody was coming up her stairs.

  She could jump up and grab the pepper spray from her nightstand. She could hide in the master bath, lock herself in. She could roll off the bed and then roll under it like a four-year-old.

  She did none of those things. Instead, she slitted her eyes and waited for her murderer/rapist/Grim Reaper to appear in the doorway, resigned to her fate.

  The figure that showed up was none of those.

  It was Matthew.

  “What the hell, Piper?” He stepped quickly to the bed and shook her.

  “Stop,” she ordered, but it came out more like an unintelligible groan that maybe started with an S.

  “I’ve been texting and calling you all morning.” He picked her phone up from the nightstand. “Why do you put this on silent all the damn time? What if there’s an emergency? How will anybody get ahold of you?”

  Piper focused on willing Matthew away, trying to telepathically get him to evaporate from her bedroom, but it was obvious to her that his voice was slightly panicked and she felt a little bad about that.

  “Why are you here, Matty?” she finally asked.

  “I’m here because people were worried about you.” Piper felt him sit on the bed next to her. “Lindsay left me a weirdly cryptic text while I was in the shower. Said maybe I should check on you. I tried to call her, but she didn’t answer or respond to my texts.”

  Piper turned her head so she faced the other way. Away from Matthew.

  “So,” he went on. “I see you’re still wearing what used to be that very nice Ralph Lauren suit I helped you pick out. At least you managed to kick off your heels before you passed out.”

  Piper made no comment. Bits and pieces from last night were starting to filter in and none of them made her happy. She just wanted to sleep. Forever. She wanted Matthew to leave so she could fall back to sleep and not have to deal with her life, with the world, with anything. She wanted oblivion.

  Silence reigned.

  “What happened, Piper?” Matthew’s voice made her flinch; she’d hoped he left.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,”
she said, her words muffled by the pillow.

  A weight settled on her leg: Matthew’s hand. “Come on. I get a weird text from somebody I hardly know telling me to check on you. I do that and find you passed out in bed at almost noon on a Saturday, still in your work clothes from the day before and smelling like a distillery. I know you pretty well, Piper, and this isn’t you. At all. Now tell me what happened. Please.”

  There was genuine concern in his voice. Worry. Piper knew him well enough to know when something had him apprehensive. She also knew it wasn’t fair of her to leave him twisting in the wind like that. She inhaled deeply, let it out.

  “I got fired.”

  Matthew was quiet for so long that she risked the discomfort of turning her head so she could actually see if he was still sitting there.

  He was. “Are you okay? I mean, you’re obviously not okay, since you got shitfaced last night. Are you okay now? What the hell happened?”

  The questions came rapid-fire and Piper closed her eyes at the onslaught. But not before seeing the concern on Matthew’s face that matched that in his voice. He was worried for her, about her. He was her best friend and she owed him an explanation.

  “Tell you what,” she said softly. “You go downstairs, feed Edgar, and get a pot of coffee brewing. I’ll take a shower, get myself together, and come down. Then I’ll tell you all about my day yesterday. Deal?”

  “Yes, please.” Matthew smiled and stood. “Come on, Eddie. Let’s eat.”

  Edgar seemed to know exactly what had been said because he flew off the bed and out the door in a flash.

  Getting herself out of bed and sitting upright was harder than Piper even expected it to be. Everything hurt and she was painfully slow, but she managed to shed her clothes (Matthew was right about the state of her suit) and get herself into the bathroom. Since it felt (and tasted) like something had crawled into her mouth and died as she slept, the first thing she did was brush her teeth. Three times. Once she felt better about not disintegrating a wall with her breath, she stepped carefully into the shower.

  It took her nearly twenty minutes of simply standing under the water and making lame attempts at soaping things up before she felt somewhat human again. The idea of putting on makeup or blow-drying her hair was just too much to handle, so she slapped on some moisturizer, finger-combed her hair, donned a pair of yoga pants and a ratty old Ms. Pac-Man T-shirt, and headed carefully down the stairs, bottle of Motrin in hand.

  The smell of fresh coffee was somehow divine, rather than turning her stomach, and Piper was surprised. The second she entered the kitchen, Matthew handed her a cup, doctored up just the way she liked it.

  “Thank you,” she said, and took the mug in both hands, holding it like a life preserver.

  “Feeling better?”

  “A bit, yes.”

  “Breakfast?”

  The mention of food didn’t send her stomach roiling as she expected, so Piper entertained the idea for moment. “Maybe just toast to start out.”

  With a nod, Matthew popped some bread into the toaster. He graciously allowed her several swallows of coffee before finally turning to her, eyebrows raised expectantly.

  Piper sighed, crossed the kitchen, and took a seat at the small table in the breakfast nook. One more sip of coffee and she felt as ready as she’d probably get, so she launched into what had happened at work, from her initial discussion (and disagreement) with Ian to the same discussion with Lindsay to her own wavering to meeting with her staff to her and Ian both being let go.

  “Wow,” Matthew said, as he set a plate of buttered toast in front of her, then took the seat on the other side of the round table. “That’s a lot.”

  “Sure seems like it, huh?” Piper took a hesitant nibble.

  “Then what?”

  “Then Ian and I decided to get a drink. We went to Lakeshore.”

  “Why? That’s the opposite end of the lake.”

  “Ian lives over that way and had to be home at a certain time. I, with nobody waiting on me, didn’t have that worry.”

  “And then you got drunk.”

  “No.” Piper held up a finger. “Then I noticed some very odd things about Lakeshore. Then, I got drunk.” A thought occurred to her. “Shit. My car is still over there. I Uber’d home.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Can you take me to get it?”

  “After you finish telling me the rest of the story,” Matthew said with a nod. “What ‘odd things’ did you notice?” He made air quotes and Piper squinted at him.

  “You’re mocking me.”

  “No. Not at all.” Matthew made a rolling gesture with his hand.

  Piper spilled it all. She told him about the wine flights, how they weren’t just flights, they were the exact same flights they had at Vineyard. “Same brands. Same varietals. Same groupings.”

  Matthew nodded and sipped his coffee.

  “Smooth was scheduled to play that night. They’re a jazz band that’s been at Vineyard a couple times now and brings in a good crowd.”

  More nodding from Matthew’s side of the table. “Not unusual, really, but okay.”

  Piper arched one eyebrow, but continued with her story. “Then there’s the patio.” She explained the traditional-but-modern furniture style, the placement of it all, the outdoor heaters, the décor, all of it the same as the proposal Lindsay had given her. “It was identical, Matty.”

  “And what do you think that means?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Matthew’s face said, “not really,” even though he didn’t actually say the words.

  “Okay, you know what?” Piper finished her coffee. “What time is it?”

  “A little after one.”

  “Good. They’re open. We have to go get my car anyway, so let’s drop in for a visit and I’ll show you what I mean.”

  * * *

  Piper’s SUV was right where she’d left it, no worse for wear. Thank God. After giving it a quick once-over, she led Matthew into Lakeshore, which was about a third full with Saturday shoppers and families out for the day who’d stopped for lunch. They grabbed two barstools only a couple seats off where Piper and Ian had sat the night before. The bartender was a girl this time, maybe twenty-five, a tall blonde with bright blue eyes and an eyebrow piercing that made Piper wonder how uncomfortable it had been to have done.

  Matthew ordered a beer and Piper water. She pulled the wine flight menu out and showed it to Matthew.

  “See?” she said in hushed tones. “It’s an exact duplicate.”

  “Their prices are a little lower,” Matthew commented, then had the good sense to look sheepish when Piper shot him a look.

  The bartender gave them their drinks. Piper took a sip, then pointed at a flyer on the wall that advertised Smooth playing again next weekend. “See?” Matthew was unimpressed. He may have thought she was crazy; she could see it on his face. At the very least, he thought she was overreacting and she hadn’t even gotten into the meat of the situation yet. Her frustration mounting, she said, “Let’s go out to the patio and I’ll show you what I’m talking about.”

  “Wait.” Matthew grabbed her arm, kept her from getting off her stool. “What’s the conclusion you’ve jumped to here?” He knew exactly what the conclusion was, she could also see that on his face. Apparently, he wanted her to say it.

  Fine.

  “I think Lindsay got tired of my telling her no or cutting her budgets back from what she thinks she needs. I think she got fed up and decided to share her ideas with another business. This one. I think she’s probably planning a move here.”

  Matthew studied her for so long that she wondered if he was going to say anything at all. Finally, he looked at his beer as he turned it in his fingers. He took a deep breath in, let it out very slowly, then focused on her. “So, let me see if I get this. You think that Lindsay—a woman who is very competent, somebody your mother adores and trusts enough to leave in charge while she’s away, not to mentio
n a woman you have developed some major feelings for—don’t interrupt me.” He held up a hand the second Piper opened her mouth, stopping any sound from coming out, and she was surprised to realize that he seemed angry with her. Frustrated somehow. “Somebody who has increased the wine bar’s overall business with her ideas…you think she’s been filtering those successful ideas over to here because…why again?”

  Piper opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. What’s the matter with you, Piper? Seriously.”

  Piper closed her eyes and was horrified to feel the threat of tears. What was the matter with her? Really and truly, what was it? Because there was something.

  Matthew’s tone softened as he laid a hand on her forearm. “Talk to me.”

  “I miss my dad,” Piper said, her voice almost inaudible, and the statement surprised her. It also squeezed her heart. She felt Matthew’s gentle pressure on her arm and it reassured her. “So much has happened that I have no control over. I feel like my world is slipping out of my grasp, Matty. My mom left. The wine bar is looking more different every day. I slept with Lindsay. And I got fired because I took her advice, and now I guess I need to blame someone…” Her voice trailed off as a person caught her eye.

  She was aware of Matthew staring at her, wide-eyed, most likely because it was the first he’d heard of her night with Lindsay, but Piper’s focus was over his shoulder. On somebody else. A person who’d just come in through the patio door, papers in his hand, chatting with Mark Bloom, who Piper knew was the owner of Lakeshore.

  Matthew turned in his stool as he followed her gaze. “Hey, doesn’t that redheaded guy work at Vineyard?”

  “Oh, no.” Piper shook her head back and forth slowly as the realization of what she’d done grabbed her by the throat. Words wouldn’t form. She had so many in her head, but they flitted around like moths and she couldn’t grasp any of them.