by Elle Casey
“Just do me a favor ... steer clear of Jack Parsons, would you please?” he said.
Kiki gave him a winning smile. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to never see that jackass again as long as I live.”
“Me too,” mumbled Aimee, looking down into her lap.
Joe looked like he was going to walk away, but then he stopped and bent down to look in the window again. “Call you later?” he said to Aimee.
Her head whipped sideways to look at him, her eyes wide open. “Me? Oh ... yeah. That’d be ... good ... no great! No, good ... oh, crap.” She looked the other way, out her window, trying to hide her beet red face.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Joe, before he stood up and tapped his fist on the open window ledge of Kiki’s door two times.
Kiki shifted the car back into drive as Joe walked back to his car. “Thanks, Officer Joe!” she yelled out the window.
He waved a pen over his shoulder in response.
Kiki looked over at Aimee before pressing on the gas. “I guess you have friends in high places.”
Aimee smiled tentatively at first and then more broadly. “I guess I do.”
Chapter 18
ELIZABETH CHECKED HER WATCH AGAIN. Twelve minutes after. Should I call them? No sooner had the thought flitted through her head than the door swung open and a jubilant Aimee and slightly more subdued Kiki entered.
“Elizabeth!” exclaimed Aimee. “I’m so sorry we’re late. It’s totally my fault. Well ... actually, the gun slinging part was Kiki’s fault, but it only slowed us down a little bit. The rest was me. I went a little crazy with putting stuff away at our place. And I had to bake a batch of cookies. I had the dough already made, though.”
Elizabeth looked at her, not knowing exactly what to say to that. She wasn’t even sure how much she had understood.
“Allow me to clarify,” said Kiki calmly. “We went to pack the rest of Aimee’s stuff, her ex showed up, I flashed him my gun, we got pulled over, Aimee pulled some strings with her hot cop boyfriend, we were let go, went back to the townhouse, emptied all her stuff out, threw some cookies in the oven, and then spent about ... ,” she checked her watch, “ ... fifteen minutes too long putting things away.”
Understanding dawned on Elizabeth’s face. “Good lord, you guys know how to have a busy morning.”
“No moss, baby, no moss,” said Aimee.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in question, happy to see Aimee so energized.
“I think she’s a rolling stone now,” explained Kiki. “Let’s get a table. I need an iced tea or a shot of tequila or something.”
The hostess arrived and led them to a spot near a window. Once they were settled in with three sweet teas between them, Elizabeth starting asking questions.
“Okay, so I’m not even sure what I should ask about first. Ex-husband? Gun? Cop boyfriend?” She looked at Aimee. “Are we talking about the guy from the other night? Joe?”
“Yes,” said Aimee, “but he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yet,” said Kiki, perusing the menu.
“Yet. Maybe. I don’t know. Anyway, we were packing, as Kiki said, and my ex showed up. He started to get ugly, like he always does these days, and Kiki had a gun in her purse.”
“Whoa. So, did you threaten him with it?” Elizabeth was fascinated. She’d never known a woman who owned a gun. Some of her male clients had them, but they never carried them around as far as she knew.
“Kind of,” said Kiki, looking up. “You would have done the same thing. The guy’s an ass.”
Elizabeth held up a hand. “I’m not judging. I’m all for standing up for yourself against violence.” She looked over at Aimee. “I’m glad Kiki was there with you.”
“Me too. I’m so glad I don’t live there anymore. And I got fresh-squeezed juice this morning, too. Jack’s never done that for me.”
“Yes. I’d make a great wife. But don’t get used to it. I only do that on weekends.”
“You could do it once a year and I’d still be grateful. It’s just so nice to wake up and not feel desperate for a change.”
“How long have you and Jack been … having problems?” asked Elizabeth.
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess it’s been about nine months. Not quite a year, I think. He started cheating on me around my birthday. At least, that’s my theory.”
Elizabeth was disgusted. “What’s wrong with men? Why can’t they just keep their you-know-whats in their pants?” She grabbed her drink and took a long sip of her tea, frowning at no one in particular.
“It’s just as much women’s faults as it is theirs,” said Kiki.
“What?!” said Aimee in a clipped tone. “Are you saying it’s my fault he cheated?”
“Hell no. I’m saying that if women in general stopped sleeping with married men, men would only have other men to turn to.”
“Oh,” said Aimee. “I’d never thought of it that way.”
“They’d still have prostitutes,” said Elizabeth, although still impressed at Kiki’s thought process. She’d never considered throwing the blame on the cheating women before. It made sense in a way.
“They could have a singles-only policy,” said Aimee, smiling again. “The men would have to come in with a certificate of singlehood. That could be our business - a singles registry.”
“While I appreciate the entrepreneurship and the way your mind works, I have a better idea that might not take so much time to get up and running with actual customers,” said Kiki.
“What’s that?” asked Elizabeth, now totally focused on what Kiki was going to say. She liked cheater-bashing as much as the next girl, but she was anxious to get down to business.
“After lugging about fifty pounds of kitchen gadgets into the house and tasting Aimee’s confections, I had a flash of brilliance. I vote we open a cafe bakery kind of thing. A place where people would hang out and have coffee, some cake or pie or tarts, maybe with wifi so they could bring their laptops. A gathering place.”
Elizabeth nodded her head absently as her mind sped through some calculations. “Where are you thinking?”
“Well, that depends. Do we want our weekends free? If so, downtown. It would be slow on weekends and we could hand over the reins to trusted employees. But if we want maximum exposure, then maybe someplace not so business-oriented. Like somewhere near a hip shopping district. There are a few near downtown that might give us the best of both worlds.”
“I like where you’re going with this. I mean, restaurants in general are difficult to get profitable. But I have had some very successful clients in the business so I know it can be done. You just need to have the right ingredients.”
“Ingredients. That’s a good one,” said Aimee. She lost her smile. “The only problem is, I’m afraid you guys are putting way too much faith in me. I’m really not an expert at anything. I can make a few things in the kitchen, but a whole menu?” She looked at the other two, a slightly panicked expression on her face. “I don’t think I could do it. And I’d hate to let you down. I’ve never had any training at all.”
“That’s the beauty of it, I think,” said Kiki. “You’re a natural genius. Talent like yours isn’t learned. Sure, you could fine-tune it. But you have enough skill to do what I’m thinking about. If you need to go take some courses as part of the business planning, I’ll support that.” Kiki faced Elizabeth. “What do you think?”
“I agree. There will be several things we need to do before the business opens anyway. Aimee could go over to the culinary institute and take some weekend courses. They have all-day sessions, taught by professionals on specific things.”
Aimee was looking back and forth between the other two, her eyes beginning to shine. “You guys, you have no idea how incredibly excited this makes me. To be able to think about taking actual courses like that? I mean, it’s a dream come true.” She started playing nervously with her straw. “But the problem is that I don’t really have anything other than that to cont
ribute. I’ve never even waited tables. And I’m a tea drinker not a coffee person, so I don’t know how to work one of those fancy machines. I can enter receipts into a bookkeeping program, but I can’t analyze the information. I’m afraid I’d feel like dead weight. And you know I have zero money to invest.” She cast her eyes down to the table, suddenly very concerned with a smudge on its surface and getting it off with her napkin.
“All of us will bring a strength or two to the table. I’m bringing investment cash and accounting skills. I’ll be the number cruncher. I’ve also put together plenty of business entities, and I have some contracts we can use and a family member who’s an attorney who will help us. He’s my cousin, and I do his taxes free every year, so he owes me. I also love coffee, so I could learn how to run the fancy machine.” She smiled encouragingly at Aimee who’d picked up her head again, not looking quite as bummed as she had a couple seconds ago.
“I’m bringing investment cash too, and style. I’m going to find the spot and design its interior. I know exactly what we need. Like the bar in Friends but not a bar. A coffee slash tea house with cakes and other sweet things, sandwiches and soups. We’ll keep that other stuff simple so we can really emphasize the confections. We’ll have comfy chairs and tables too. Inside and outside seating. Flowers. But chic. Oh, and I can wait a mean table, but I’m picturing this as a ‘get your food at the counter’ kind of place. We’ll hire a hot guy to bus the tables for us.”
“And take out the trash,” said Elizabeth, getting even more excited after hearing Kiki’s ideas. This felt really right.
“I could do some special things. I’ve been experimenting … ,” said Aimee, now taking on a distracted expression as she gazed off into the distance.
“Okay, so are we all in agreement then?” asked Elizabeth. “We’re all in, at least in theory, on opening a cafe together?”
“I’m in,” said Kiki without hesitation.
“I’m in. If you guys don’t mind dead wood,” said Aimee, smiling shyly.
“We won’t let you be dead wood. You might feel like the walking dead by the time we have this business up and running, but you will never have to worry about not pulling your weight. Right, Kiki?”
“Damn straight.”
They exchanged conspiratorial smiles across the table. Emotions were riding high. Elizabeth couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this excited about something.
The waitress came over to take their orders. Once she was finished and had walked away, Elizabeth said, “We need to put together a business plan. I want to draft it all up in the next couple of days and throw together the pro formas - estimated financials - so I can get an idea of the level of investment required.” She looked at Kiki, not entirely sure that Kiki knew how much it could cost to start and run a business. For all Elizabeth knew, Kiki could have only ten grand to share. That wasn’t going to be near enough. “I’m guessing, just off the top of my head and depending on where it is, we’re looking at an initial investment of between one hundred to two hundred and fifty thousand. That doesn’t include operating capital. We could do it with less, but we’d have to really work hard at finding deals and cutting corners. It would mean more work.”
Aimee choked on her drink.
Kiki reached over and patted her on the back a few times.
“One hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Are you nuts?” said Aimee. “I can’t do this. No way. You guys could buy a house with that money. What if it fails? What if I’m terrible? What if Jack’s right?” She slammed her mouth shut and just looked at the others, tears swimming in her eyes.
“Take a breath, Aimee. It’s not a lot of money to start a business. A club costs nearly a mil. Sometimes more. We’re getting off easy.” She reached over and put her hand on Aimee’s, stopping her from completely shredding her straw wrapper. “And for the record, whatever Jack said about you, it was wrong. You kick ass in the kitchen. No one can say any different. We’ve tasted the proof.”
Elizabeth nodded her head. She was glad to hear Kiki wasn’t as naive about the investment as she had feared, and she was in full agreement about Aimee’s abilities.
Kiki let go of Aimee’s hand after patting it a couple times and sat back in her seat. “Do you want to each put up half, or what? We can do it in thirds and I could front Aimee’s part to begin with. She could pay it off with her share of the profits over a period of several years.”
“I’m not sure. I’ll ask my cousin and see what he thinks is best. From a tax perspective, it really doesn’t make much difference. I suspect we’ll have a loss at least the first year. Aimee probably doesn’t need one. I could use one. What about you?”
“Well, I’m going to take some gains if I cash out some stock to pay part of my share; so next year, yes, I’ll probably need some losses to offset.”
Elizabeth was now definitely impressed. She’d had no idea that exotic dancers even thought about investing in the stock market, let alone tracked their short- and long-term capital gains. She silently admonished herself for judging Kiki like that. She’d been called stiff and unfriendly for years, as a result of the professional constraints of her job. Some of it may have been earned, but not all; so she knew what it was like to be judged unfairly. She smiled to herself as she imagined what it would be like to be part owner of a chicly bohemian coffee house. She had a feeling people would look at her differently, and she liked it. A lot. She was already feeling like a changed woman - more free and creative.
“Okay, we’ll figure it out. I just want to be fair to both of you and myself. I’d like to think of this as a lifetime partnership. Someday, if this takes off, it will fund our retirement.”
“Yeah, and we can all cash out to go live on a tropical island somewhere. Where the men wear coconut suntan oil and deliver us drinks in a pineapple,” offered Kiki.
“I am likin’ the idea of the cafe, ladies,” said Aimee, lifting up her drink. “And the guys in suntan oil for sure. I’m poor, but I’m motivated. So if you guys will loan me the money to participate, I promise to bake my buns off for you. Here’s to our new business!”
The other two raised up their glasses to join Aimee’s. They clinked them together and said, “Here’s to …” They all stopped and looked at each other.
Elizabeth said, “We need a name for our new place.”
“Well, for now, we’ll call it ‘Desperation Depot’ since it’s what lead us here. Desperation, I mean,” said Kiki.
“Here’s to Desperation Depot, until we find a better name,” said Elizabeth.
“Hear, hear!” said Aimee, enthusiastically.
Kiki took a drink of her tea and asked, “What’s our timeframe, do you think? Three months? Six?”
“That depends on the location. Three months is very ambitious. But it could happen.”
“I know a realtor who does commercial stuff. He helped the DeLucca's find the club I worked in. I’ll contact him and get him on finding a spot. I assume since we’re all currently unemployed, we can take time to go visit possible candidates?”
“I still have to work until my month of notice is up, but I’m not worried about leaving to do our business. Feel free to call me anytime.”
“Aren’t you worried about a reference from your old boss?” asked Aimee.
“No. I have enough clients who will give me references. I have a feeling several will ask to go with me. They’ve already told me if I ever leave, they’re jumping ship, too.”
“Will you tell them no?” asked Kiki. “I would keep a few, if it were me.”
“I might. It could be a good idea to have some money coming in, just in case.”
“Take the nice ones,” suggested Aimee. “That way you won’t be cranky at work.”
“Good idea,” said Elizabeth. She liked Aimee’s simplified outlook; it was deceptively brilliant.
Their salads arrived, so they spent the next few minutes eating and critiquing the food. Now that they had all decided to be restaurant owners, th
e quality of the food and presentation took on a whole new meaning.
“My lettuce is kinda wilty,” said Aimee.
“I don’t like the greens they’re using,” said Kiki. “Too much iceberg and not enough spring mix.”
“This dressing is from a jar,” added Elizabeth. “Homemade is so much better.”
They all looked at each other. Elizabeth was the first to speak. “We’re really doing this?”
“Yes,” said Kiki firmly. “We are.”
“Absolutely,” agreed Aimee. “I mean, what do we have to lose? … Besides all your money and my new home, of course?”
Aimee cracked them up with her devil-may-care expression. It was nice to see her not being shy or doubting her skills.
“So, what are we going to call it? I’m afraid Desperation Depot might make people afraid to come in,” said Elizabeth.
“I have an idea,” said Aimee, excitedly. “Let’s put words on pieces of paper that kind of describe us, and then put them in a pile. We’ll pull out two papers at a time and see if that prompts any ideas.”
“Brilliant,” said Kiki. “I’m game.”
Elizabeth pulled a sheet of paper out of the portfolio she’d brought along. She carefully folded it over several times in various places and then went about ripping it up into small squares. She divided the pile into three and gave each girl her own.
Kiki reached into her purse and came out with three pens, all of them with the steakhouse strip club logo on them.
“Wow, can I keep this?” asked Aimee, looking it over. “I’ve always wanted to go here.”
“I’ll take you sometime. And yes, keep it. I have hundreds.”
Elizabeth decided she was going to use her pen at work for her last few weeks there, to remind her of the fun she was getting ready to have with her two friends. She hoped her coworkers would see it too. Let them wonder what she was doing with a pen from an infamous strip club.
