Happy Pants Cafe

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “My next-door neighbors in Pacifica were from Mexico. They made this for their daughter’s quinceanera and almost anytime they had a big party.” Throw in some handmade tortillas and those grilled onion thingys that looked like chives with a big bulb, and it was some serious alma-food. “I like mine with red salsa.” She glanced over at Austin, who looked stunned.

  Point for Harper. I love strange food.

  Of course, when Sebastian insisted on having the eyeballs, she had to look away. No one should be forced to watch a man with one large eye eat an eye.

  The rest of the meal, however, was extremely pleasant. The family was fun and quirky and a reminder of her own. With two brothers and a sister, dinnertime had always been eventful at her house. Drama, verbal banter, laughter…always fun.

  Harper chatted politely with Josefina, one of Ms. Luci’s daughters, to her right and Juan to her left. Officer Alberto sat opposite her and appeared to be desperately trying to avoid any eye contact. Austin sat near the head of the table next to Luci and Jodiann, who seemed to be doing everything in her power to monopolize his attention. Also present were Ms. Luci’s other daughter, Abby, who appeared to be in her forties, and Abby’s twenty-year-old daughter, Sarah, who didn’t take her eyes off Austin, except to glare at her cousin Jodiann for hogging his attention. Don Sebastian sat at the other end of the table with the three “fireflies,” who, ironically, were Alberto’s kids. Margarita, Juan’s sister and owner of the pink hooker dress, who helped manage the estate, had called to say she’d not be joining them that evening because she had a date.

  “She ate a cookie,” Juan said to Harper.

  “You don’t really believe in that superstitious stuff, do you?” Harper asked.

  “Of course I do. And the facts don’t lie. Isn’t that right, Doña Luci?” he asked over the voices carrying on multiple boisterous conversations.

  Ms. Luci, who had been busy chatting with her granddaughter Sarah, looked up. “What is this now?”

  “Harper doesn’t believe that your cookies work,” said Juan.

  “Well…” Luci smiled coyly.

  “You said earlier today that the rumors weren’t true.” Austin seemed to be just as interested in the answer as Harper.

  “No,” Luci corrected. “I said that you shouldn’t believe the rumors.”

  “Doesn’t that mean the same thing?” he asked.

  “You’re a man of words; you tell me,” she replied.

  “Then you do believe,” he said.

  “I believe that they work because people want them to. And we all know that when people believe in something, it has a funny way of happening. The power of faith should never be underestimated.”

  “So you think it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy?” Austin asked.

  Luci shrugged. “I think that love—”

  “Love is a hoax,” Harper blurted.

  Everyone gasped and looked at her as if she had just recited a verse from the Satanic Bible.

  “You don’t believe in love?” Ms. Luci asked.

  “Love of family and friends, yes. But this antiquated notion of undying, everlasting passionate love is as fictional as unicorns. It doesn’t exist. People become infatuated romantically with someone, but it wears off. That’s why divorce rates are so high.”

  At first, Ms. Luci looked at Harper as if she was mad, but then she grinned as if she was about to enjoy what came next. “I see.” She looked at Austin. “And what is your view, Austin?”

  “I believe in it.” He looked sternly at Harper. “My parents are living proof. They’re inseparable and crazy about each other, even after thirty-five years. It’s finding the right person that’s the hard part.”

  Austin’s point of view struck Harper as odd, considering his man-whoring ways. “Well then, Austin, how is the search going? I know you try on as many women as you can.”

  Austin glared at her. “You’re one to talk, Harper.”

  “I’m not the one with five girlfriends.”

  “Eight. I have eight. Don’t you remember?” he said coolly.

  “Time out!” Ms. Luci made the international symbol of the “T” with her hands. “I don’t know what is going on between you two, but I find it rather strange that you both revert to being children when in the same room.”

  Actually, Luci was sort of right; they did revert to children when they were in the same room. Another pea, perhaps?

  “Do their cards,” said Sebastian.

  Ms. Luci stared at him for a moment and then bobbed her head. “That is an excellent idea.” She looked at little-boy-campfire, aka her pyro grandson. “Adam, please go fetch my cards.”

  “Cards?” Austin questioned.

  “Yes,” Luci replied, “my tarot cards.”

  “Harper doesn’t believe in something as obvious as the sun,” Austin said. “Not sure tarot cards are going to set her straight.”

  “Perhaps yes. Perhaps no,” Ms. Luci said happily. “But in my culture, superstition and faith go hand in hand. We accept that there are things in this world beyond our comprehension, yet we don’t deny they exist. Love, for example, is such a force. It binds you to your mother, your siblings, and your children. But,” she shook her finger in the air, “you cannot see love. You can only feel it. And the cards have a way of shedding light on that which we cannot see with our eyes.”

  Harper seriously didn’t see the point to any of this.

  Adam returned with the deck, and Ms. Luci waved Harper to come sit next to her, displacing Jodiann, who wasn’t so happy to move away from Austin.

  Luci shuffled and asked Harper and Austin to pick four cards each. She laid them out on the table. “Ah. Very interesting.” She put her finger on a card. “The Ace of Cups is next to the High Priestess.” She glanced at them both. “One of you will see true love in action before the end of the week.” Luci clapped. “There you see, Harper! You will have your proof this very week.”

  “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because I ate one of your cookies?” Austin asked.

  “You ate a cookie?” Harper asked.

  “Yeah. I was hungry. What’s the big deal?” he asked.

  It’s sort of cute. “Nothing. I’m just surprised. That’s all.”

  “Well,” Luci said, “the cards have spoken. One of you will find their special someone by week’s end.”

  “And you think it’s going to be me?” Austin asked, his tone full of “Uh-huh. Surrrre.”

  “How will you even know?” Harper piled on. “What if the woman he meets is just his next bed warmer for the month?”

  Austin’s head snapped unappreciatively in her direction.

  “Whichever one of you it is,” Luci said, “you will know. In fact, I’m willing to bet on it. By the week’s end, one of you will fall in love. If I am wrong, then I will give you an interview. You can ask me anything you want.”

  “Anything?” Harper liked the sound of that. “Even the names of famous people who’ve met spouses through your café?”

  “Yes.” She crossed her arms. “Royalty. Hollywood celebrities. We’ve even had a few politicians come through.”

  Harper remembered Sebastian mentioning a visit from the president. A confirmation from the café’s owner would be huge.

  “Would your customers get angry if you disclose this sort of information?” Harper asked.

  Luci shook her little head. “No. Because I will not lose.”

  “Mom never loses a bet. Ever,” said Officer Alberto.

  Game on! Harper’s competitive side screamed.

  “But which one of us gets to interview you?” Harper asked.

  “I don’t care. Both. Or you choose. But the interview will not happen.”

  “I think it’s going to be Austin,” said Jodiann. “He ate the cookie.”

  Ms. Luci took a big bite of her taco, chewed with pleasure, and then swallowed. “We shall see…”

  ~~

  Austin didn’t give an ounce of credence to the cards
or the cookies, but he did find the wager entertaining, not to mention potentially a nice little news story. No doubt, thousands of couples, some very famous, had passed through the Happy Pants Café. It would be great to get a hold of that list, especially if someone like the U.S. President was on it.

  But that means you really are in competition with Harper now. Because reporters from rival newspapers didn’t share stories; they beat each other to the punch.

  Well, he didn’t owe her anything, and she’d made it clear what she thought of him.

  After dinner, Harper disappeared into the kitchen, dragging an unhappy Sebastian along to help with the dishes.

  Austin laughed. He had to admit, he liked the way Harper didn’t back down from anyone. She took things head-on when it came to challenges, including people. She was fearless, much like himself. Was that why they couldn’t get along? Were they simply too similar?

  After dinner, the family went outside, taking their dining room chairs with them to relax on the porch since the living room was not usable.

  “So, Austin, did you really eat a cookie?” asked Jodiann, leaning against the white hand-carved railing, while Austin stood against the house, enjoying the cool evening.

  “Yes,” he replied. “But why don’t you tell me more about what you know.”

  “Uh-uh-uh.” She wagged her finger. “It’s bad luck to talk about the secret of the cookies.”

  These people were very superstitious. It was actually charming.

  “Well, I won’t tell if you don’t,” he replied.

  She leaned in. “I ate one today. And I think I found Mr. Right already.”

  Huh?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  After dinner that evening, Harper was determined to talk to Austin, but as soon as she’d finished loading the dishwasher with Sebastian, who stared at her boobs the entire time, she found Austin on the porch, cozying up to Ms. Luci’s granddaughter.

  Oh no. What if Austin falls in love with that Jodiann girl? Harper’s heart ached just a bit as she comprehended the full scope of what that meant. Austin is going to fall in love. Austin is going to fall in love. That made her feel uneasy, especially because it wouldn’t be her.

  Come on, Harp. You don’t actually believe all of that cookie nonsense. No, she didn’t. But she had to wonder why Austin had eaten a cookie. Was he hoping to find Mrs. Right? Sure, he’d said he was just hungry, but she didn’t buy it. Not after that speech about his parents.

  Which you found completely endearing.

  No, I didn’t.

  Yes, you did. You even imagined the two of you forty years from now. They were smiling at each other, completely old and wrinkly, walking hand in hand on the beach.

  Harper…come on. You two would make each other miserable. They couldn’t be in the same room for more than a minute without squabbling.

  It’s for the best, just…let him be happy. It’s the right thing to do.

  She headed back to the hotel for the night, and the next morning, her cell phone woke her from the deepest sleep she’d had in a year. The fluffy mattress at the B and B was pure heaven.

  She reached for her phone on the nightstand. It was Ixtzel, her editor.

  “Is it Monday already?” Harper said into her phone.

  “No. It’s Sunday. And we need to talk.” Ixtzel’s voice sounded like she’d eaten a bucket of crushed walnut shells.

  “What happened to you?” Harper sat up and rubbed her forehead.

  “Oh. Not much. I spent the day yesterday with the world’s worst hangover, throwing up and praying for sudden death.”

  “Sounds awful. Did you go to a party on Friday?”

  “Uh-uh. I decided, as us big girls do when tragedy strikes, to drown my sorrows in a bottle of rum and piña colada mix. It worked pretty well for a few hours.”

  “What happened?” Harper asked.

  “Ah. That’s why I’m calling. I had that meeting with Dan after you left for St. Helena on Friday.”

  Shit. “And?”

  “True to his nature, he threw the guillotine at us.”

  Harper winced and swung her feet to the floor. “And? Is he going to fire us?”

  “Worse. Much worse. Apparently, he got a ton of calls from the board members, who were curious as to why one of our own reporters was featured on the cover of a tabloid and managed to not get the story of a major Hollywood actress who got married in our own backyard, even though this particular reporter was at the actual wedding.”

  Harper blew out a breath and ran one hand through her short hair. “So. He was pissed.”

  “Uh, yeah. Basically, he said that we either fix this, or he will blacklist us.”

  “What?” Harper wasn’t sure she heard Ixtzel correctly.

  “Blacklist. As in, no newspaper, magazine, or other reputable media organization will hire us.”

  “He can’t do that,” Harper protested.

  “Yeah. He can. Dan knows everyone in the industry. He’s the head of the fucking Newspaper Publishers’ Association.”

  This was bad. “I guess now I understand how he got his reputation. So how does he want us to fix this?”

  “Well, I kind of told him you let that wedding story go because you were working on something bigger.”

  Oh, no. Harper had said she’d come up with something good, but not big big. And now there was this added complication with Austin. She simply didn’t feel right trying to compete against him. It didn’t matter that “the incident” happened so long ago, it felt like new news to her, and she hadn’t yet been able to process what it all meant.

  “How much bigger?” Harper asked.

  “Like, really, really big. National front-page news big.”

  Shit.

  “Please tell me you have something?” she groaned.

  “I-I, well, sorta.”

  “What’s sorta? Is it like, yes, I have something big but don’t have the backup to go to print yet. Or is it, I’m not sure and need to do some more digging?”

  Harper began telling her about the café and the cookies, fully expecting Ixtzel to scream bloody murder.

  “Seriously? The president and first lady are customers?”

  “I’m not sure, but that’s what was hinted at.” And frankly, Harper believed it.

  “Is the owner willing to go on the record?”

  “Yes and no. I got into some trouble with her—a little misunderstanding involving some cookie ingredients. Oh, and her son arrested me for spilling coffee on him; he’s the sheriff.”

  “You got arrested?” Zel asked.

  “Yeah. But he let me go. We had dinner together last night.”

  “Oh. So you’re trying to get to him. Good work.”

  “No. The entire family was there. I have to work for Ms. Luci, the café’s owner, for the week to make up for knocking her over. Well, I didn’t knock her over. It was Austin Royce, actually. We were racing.”

  “What?” Ixtzel yelled. “Austin Royce is there with you?”

  Austin had already mentioned he knew Ixtzel. “Yes. Funny thing; turns out, Ken from the wedding was actually him. He’s also stuck on work detail for the week.”

  “Shit. We’re toast.”

  “Why do you say that?” Harper asked.

  “He’s a pit bull, Harper. The man once bodychecked an eighty-year-old woman at a movie premiere just to get a picture.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I heard eyewitness testimony from a colleague.”

  “You can’t believe anything us reporters say,” Harper argued flippantly.

  “I’m telling you; he’s ruthless.”

  Harper couldn’t believe it. “Pit bull or not, I have another little issue—it’s complicated, and I’m not sure I can continue going after the story.”

  “What?” Zel barked. “Why not?”

  She knew it was going to sound strange, but she couldn’t not give Zel an explanation. “Would it surprise you to hear that I have a history with Austin or t
hat we were neighbors as kids?”

  “Are you high, Harper? That’s not a reason. I’ll be blacklisted. I’ll never work this industry again and neither will you!”

  Why, oh why did this have to keep getting more and more complicated? “It’s hard to explain, so I won’t try, but you have to trust me—”

  “I’m your friend, Harper. Your friend. I’ve put my job, my ass—everything on the line for you again and again. And you’re telling me that you won’t even try to get this story because you happened to live next door to Austin when you were a kid?”

  Harper rubbed her eyes with her free hand. Maybe she could work something out with Austin. After all, Luci did say they could both interview her.

  “Okay, I will get the story, Ixtzel, but I need more time.”

  “We don’t have more time. Friday is the cutoff.”

  Harper hung her head. “I need until Sunday.”

  “You don’t have it. So find a way, or come pack up your office. You can help me with mine, too.”

  Maybe she could convince Luci to take pity on them, but she’d first need to talk to Austin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  ~~

  Later that morning, Harper pulled up the long gravel driveway only to find a frantic Ms. Luci standing directly in front of the porch, screaming at Austin and Sebastian

  She parked her Mini and approached cautiously, almost afraid to ask. “What happened?”

  “The chicken coop was left open,” Luci yelled, tears in her eyes. “So was the gate to my garden. The little peckers destroyed everything!”

  “What? But I closed the gate,” Harper said. How was it possible?

  “Are you sure?” Austin asked. “Because you were pretty distracted yesterday.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Harper snapped.

  “Just what I said,” he replied coldly. “I saw a lot of drooling going on.”

  Okay, yeah. She’d looked at Juan. So what? The real drooling had been happening over him, but he’d been too busy huffing and puffing to even notice. “Are you certain you weren’t the one who was distracted? It sure looked that way after dinner.”

  “No. I wasn’t distracted, and I locked the coop,” Austin growled.