My Uptown Girl

by C. Morgan

  On a positive note, there was so much traffic out there, someone would come along and save us. That was the good thing about lobstermen. They stuck together. We might hate each other and compete with each other, but we always helped out when needed.

  Chapter 4

  Amara

  I walked into the diner I had spent many hours at during my high school years. Nothing changed. It was still the same dated décor with the typical nautical theme. I looked around and spotted my old friend, Kerri. She never left Portland after high school. Whenever I came home, I stopped by and tried to spend some time with her. We came from very different backgrounds and were really very different in general.

  But she was the yin to my yang. She loved Portland. She had no desire to ever leave. She liked being a waitress and working for just over minimum wage. She loved the idea of getting married and having a gaggle of kids one day. She didn’t see the point of wasting time getting a degree because she wanted to stay home and raise her family. She wanted to bake and do the PTO and volunteer.

  I wanted some of those things, but I also wanted to own my own business and be successful in my own right. While she waited for her Mr. Right to come along, she worked whatever job came her way. The diner was her failsafe. She quit and went back, got fired and then rehired.

  I waited for her to see me. “Hey!” she exclaimed as she walked toward me.

  “Hi.”

  “Come sit. I’ll take a break in a few.”

  I sat down and she quickly brought me a soda before rushing away again. I sipped it, looking at the diner with a discerning eye. I was making mental notes about what I did and didn’t want to do in my own restaurant.

  “When did you get home?” she asked as she slid into the booth.

  “A few days ago,” I told her. “How are you?”

  “Good. The same.”

  “Are you still working at the visitors’ center?” I asked.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Nope.”

  “I thought you liked it there.”

  “I did but I got tired of saying the same thing over and over again. Are you staying in town or jetting off somewhere new?”

  “Nope, I am staying. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m starting that restaurant I’ve been talking about for years,” I announced.

  “Really? That’s awesome! Congrats!”

  “Thank you. My dad got me a space and I have been working day and night to get it up and going but I don’t want to do it alone. I can’t do it alone. I wanted to ask if you would be willing to come on as a manager?”

  “Me? Really? I don’t have a fancy degree.”

  “No, but you know waitressing and you know the job. You would be a huge help.”

  “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes. This is going to be fun. Hard, but fun. I know I can trust you and I need someone I can depend on.”

  She was smiling. “You would depend on me?”

  “Absolutely!”

  “I don’t know. That sounds like a lot of responsibility.”

  “It would be,” I agreed.

  Her small laugh told me she was teasing. “That would be awesome. I’m getting a little tired of this nonsense. I’m ready to put on a different uniform.”

  “Really? Are you sure? This is happening fast, and I want to make sure you are committed.”

  “I got you,” she insisted.

  “Thank god, because I need help.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Know anywhere to buy cheap lobster? I don’t know if it’s because of my last name, the fact I’m a young woman, or it is just that expensive, but the local lobster suppliers are charging an arm and a leg for their lobster. I can’t afford it. I have some great dishes I want on the menu, but if the lobster is that much, I’m going to have to charge more, and then I’ll never get customers in the door. It’s like they don’t want to give the new girl a chance.”

  “Take a breath,” she said with a small smile. “You’re freaking out.”

  I let out a long sigh. “I am. I didn’t think it would be this hard. We are surrounded by seafood and these jokers are trying to charge me a small fortune. They act like I’m an idiot and don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “I know a guy,” she said, but the way she said it wasn’t exactly convincing.

  “I know a few guys too.”

  “I know a lobsterman. He is a small operation and sells his catch a little cheaper than the other guys.”

  “Is it any good?” I questioned.

  “It’s the same shit that comes out of the same water,” she shot back. “The bigger operations charge more because they are bigger. My guy is just him and his buddy.”

  “Perfect. Do you have his number?”

  “It’s not quite so simple.”

  I shrugged. “Does he sell lobster or what?”

  “He does, but he can be a little rough around the edges.”

  “So? I can handle that. I just need lobster that isn’t way marked up. Will he sell to me?”

  “I’m sure he will, but like I said, he’s not the easiest guy to talk to.”

  She was painting the man to be an ogre. I had met plenty of the old, crotchety fishermen before. They were weather worn and life worn. They had an air about them that said they stopped caring about anything a long time ago. I had been dealing with those men all my life. I found them to be all bark and no bite.

  “I’ll be fine. Please tell me his name or how to reach him. I will smile and bat my eyelashes and beg if I have to.”

  She laughed. “I’m not sure you’ll have to beg, but smiling wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Who is this guy?”

  “He’s a good guy that hasn’t quite got his break yet. Probably because he doesn’t play well with others. He works hard though, and I know his orders are always top notch and on time.”

  “How did you meet this guy?” I questioned, hoping it wasn’t one of her exes. That tended to make things messy. I didn’t want messy. I needed good, fresh lobster without the drama.

  “He dated a friend of mine for like half a minute,” she said with a laugh. “Like I said, he can be a little rough.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not trying to date him. I want his lobster.”

  “That sounds dirty.”

  “Only to you,” I shot back.

  My phone vibrated in my purse. I fished it out, hoping it was the painter telling me I could go in the restaurant. I was paying a lot of money to get shit moving fast. I looked at the number on the screen and groaned, shaking my head. I quickly hit the decline button and tossed it back in my purse.

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “Nick.”

  She waggled her dark brows and leaned forward. “Is he your boyfriend from school? Are you ditching him? Tell me everything.”

  “He is not my boyfriend,” I said, unable to keep myself from curling my lip. “My dad loves him and thinks I should as well.”

  “Oh, a dad hookup,” she said with understanding.

  “Yes. He’s a stockbroker and dry as cardboard. Of course, he thinks he’s the shit. I went on one date with him. He was driving me back to my apartment and rambling on and on about how rich he was and about how awesome his car was. I seriously considered opening the door and jumping just to get away.”

  She winced. “That’s bad. And unfortunate.”

  “Why is it unfortunate?”

  “Because you marrying a wealthy man that is all uppity is exactly what your dad wants for you.”

  “Yes, it is. I’m not saying Nick is out of the question because he’s rich or because my dad likes him, but seriously, I could have a more interesting conversation with a slice of bread.”

  “If he’s that dull, imagine what he would be like in bed.”

  I groaned, not even wanting to imagine it. “No thanks.”

  “He could turn out to be a real wild man in
the bedroom,” she suggested. “What if he was trying to impress you with all of his talk and then you get him naked and all bets are off?”

  “Nope. I doubt it.”

  “Maybe he was the one,” she teased.

  “Nope. I couldn’t get past the first five minutes with him. I don’t want to be naked with him. I didn’t even kiss him. Again, bread. As boring as bread. There was nothing exciting hiding below the suit and tie.”

  “That’s okay. We are sure to find you a man here. This is where all the good ones are anyway.”

  “If that’s the case, why don’t you have a man?”

  She shrugged. “I’m being picky.”

  I knew that was a load of crap. Kerri was a free spirit. She was a hippie living in the wrong decade. She loved freely. She was convinced she needed to kiss every boy until she found the one she was going to spend the rest of her life with. “I’m not looking.”

  “For now. We have to go out.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I didn’t even say when,” she retorted.

  “I can’t until I get this restaurant opened. Every minute of my day is spent on that. That is my focus—not men.”

  “Fine, I’ll help you.”

  “Thank you.”

  She got up from the table. I assumed she was going back to work and I was about to ask her to come by my parents’ house when she took off her apron and dropped it on the table. “Let’s go. Show me this new restaurant I’m going to be managing.”

  “Kerri, what are you doing?” I asked, looking around the restaurant.

  “I was going to quit anyway,” she replied nonchalantly.

  “Shouldn’t you give notice?”

  She walked up to the counter, slapped it a couple of times, and waited. A man wearing an ugly tie and a stained shirt appeared.

  “What now?” he snapped.

  “I quit,” she said with a smile and turned to walk back to me.

  “Kerri, I’m not hiring you back again. You walk out that door and it’s final this time.”

  “That’s the goal,” she said over her shoulder. “Ready?”

  I felt horrible for stealing away the guy’s employee and was suddenly very apprehensive about offering her the job. “You’re not going to quit on me, are you?”

  “I don’t think so. I like you.”

  I had a moment of doubt about bringing her on. “Kerri, please don’t quit on me.”

  She grabbed me and hugged me. “I won’t abandon you. I know I can be flaky but that’s because I’ve been waiting for the right job. Your job is the right one. I knew you’d one day open your own place. I’ve been collecting experience. I’ve done it all. Hell, I can even wait tables on roller skates.”

  “No skates.”

  “Will I be wearing a sexy bikini?”

  “No. I’m thinking more like black slacks and polos.”

  She shrugged. “I can do that.”

  We walked to my car. “Hop in and I’ll take you over to the building.”

  I hoped like hell Kerri didn’t flake on me. I had to give her the benefit of the doubt. If she screwed me over, I was going to throw her into the ocean. My dream was riding on her dedication to helping me get this thing off the ground.

  As we drove, she chattered on about the latest gossip around town. Kerri seemed to know everything about everyone. I chalked it up to her many jobs. She met a lot of people and our community was really tightknit, which meant she was bound to know someone who knew someone. Her connections would hopefully help the restaurant as well. I was counting on her being plugged in enough to spread the word.

  Chapter 5

  Fulton

  I scraped my knuckles across one of the many bolts on the engine. “Fuck,” I hissed, waving my hand to shake off the pain.

  I hated the stupid engine. I hated the damn boat most days.

  I spent more time working on the stupid thing than fishing on it. The engine was on its last legs. I knew it but there wasn’t a lot I could do about it. The thought of taking out a line of credit to buy a boat or a new engine seemed counterproductive. One bad season, and I wouldn’t be able to pay the loan, and everything would be lost.

  I managed to tighten the bolt next to the offending piece of metal that had bloodied my knuckles. I hoped it was enough to make the thing last a little longer. I had learned how to do the maintenance on my boat through trial and error.

  I’d been working with my hands since the time I could walk. It was my own handiwork that had kept the boat running. Otherwise, it would have given up the ghost a long time ago.

  I remembered when I bought the thing from the retired fisherman almost ten years ago. He laughed at me. He thought I was crazy. It had been the only thing I could afford. I had saved every penny from every summer I worked from the time I was fourteen. The boat wasn’t much, but it was mine and that was what got my ass out of bed every morning.

  Every oil change, every belt replacement, every little thing I did was to make it last just a little longer. I wasn’t sure what a little longer would do, but that was how I looked at life. One day at a time. A little more. Almost there. Soon. Just around the corner. My outlook on life wasn’t rosy, but it was effective.

  I heard footsteps and looked up to see Stanley coming my way. “I thought you said no fishing today?”

  “I’m not fishing. I’m working on the engine.”

  “Again.”

  “Always.” I smirked. “It wasn’t broken. Was just finally getting around to changing the oil.”

  “Did you hear about old Ben?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I did. That’s too bad. He was a good guy.” Ben was a staple in the fishing community. He’d been around forever. His stories about the good old days were the stuff of legends. No one knew how old he was for sure, but the going guess was he’d pass the century mark a few years back. He died in his sleep, the best way to go as far as I was concerned.

  “Yep. Everyone is getting together later to have a drink at the tavern. You coming?”

  “I have a meeting with a potential client,” I told him. “We need to expand a little and I’m hoping this will be enough to keep us fishing a little longer.”

  “Good to hear. Are you going to raise prices?”

  I shook my head, wiping my hands on the old rag I kept on hand. “Not yet. I need to attract more customers before I can do that. They only come to me because I’m cheaper.”

  He nodded at the engine. “That thing might not last much longer. You’re going to have to raise prices to afford a new one.”

  “If I raise prices, I’ll lose the few customers I have. Then I won’t be buying anything.”

  “All right, I suppose, but I better start looking for another boat. This thing has maybe fifteen minutes left on it. I’m too cute to be shark food.”

  I smirked. “They wouldn’t want to eat you. All that bacon grease clogging your veins will kill them.”

  He grinned. “Then my plan is working. Who is this new client?”

  “I don’t know yet. A friend of a friend or some shit.”

  “Want me to go along? People tend to like me better than you. You’re kind of a dick.”

  “Thanks, Stanley,” I said without taking any real offense to his comment. I was a dick. I didn’t like most people in general. “I’ve got this. They asked for me.”

  “Bullshit,” he joked. “You better be careful. It’s probably a setup.”

  “A setup?”

  “You don’t make a lot of friends, especially the female kind. You’ve done a lot of loving and leaving and those ladies don’t appreciate that.”

  “There was no love involved. Trust me.”

  He shrugged. “That’s not what I heard.”

  “You heard wrong. You know I’m not the loving type.”

  “Don’t I know that,” he said.

  “I’ve got to get home and get cleaned up. Have a drink for me.”

  “Hell, if you ask nicely, I’ll have three drinks for you.
”

  I slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later. I’ll let you know when we’re going out next. Hopefully, if this goes well, we’ll need to go out tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be ready. Are you sure you want to do this on your own?”

  “Stanley, I’m a big boy. I can do this.”

  “I don’t know about that. You get a little pissy when someone questions your ability or your lobster.”

  “I’m sure I can be nice for a little while,” I assured him. “Now, I’ve got to get going.”

  I walked away, heading for my truck. I doubted I would get all of the grease out from under my nails but that was just the way of things. Some operations had people that sat in a cute little office and answered phones all day. Then there were operations like mine that required me to fill every role.

  I drove home, practicing my pitch. I was hoping I had an edge because the woman reached out to me.

  I wasn’t dumb enough to think I was her first choice. I probably wasn’t even her second or third choice, but I was the cheapest choice, which was why I had an advantage over some of the other operations.

  It was only a little embarrassing to be the cheapest guy in town. I refused to let it hurt my ego. I was making money and not counting on anyone else for a handout. It felt good to support myself, even if I was just barely scraping by.

  I quickly showered and started to pull on my worn jeans when I remembered I was supposed to be trying to impress the potential client. I pulled out another pair of less worn jeans and dug out a clean, mostly unwrinkled shirt. There were no holes in the pits, which made it a good shirt.

  I looked in the mirror, thought about shaving the scruff, and shrugged. I wasn’t the polished type. I didn’t think it really mattered if I shaved or not. I wasn’t selling myself. I was selling my lobster and my services, not me. I ran a comb through my hair and decided I was good as I was going to get short of a full makeover, which I wasn’t inclined to do.