by Jean Oram
Benny passed her a check. “Consider this a bonus. Sort of like back pay. I should have realized your value sooner.”
Mandy looked at the check and shook her head in disbelief. There was no way she could ask him now. Absolutely no way. She blinked at Benny. “Thank you.”
Benny stood and, with a hand on her shoulder, ushered her to the door. “No, thank you.” Out of the corner of his mouth, he added, “And just so you know, nobody else is getting a raise.”
Still shaking her head with the wonder of it all, she went to the staff room to tuck the check in her purse.
She closed the door behind her and sighed as she sat on the long ottoman, hands gripping the edge. She closed her eyes. Gloria was going to spill the beans on her restaurant idea, then flick every last one of them so far away, Mandy would never be able to retrieve them all in order to save face when she undoubtedly chickened out.
Realizing the time, she popped off the ottoman and hustled into the dining room, finding Gloria still sitting, leisurely capping shakers, fine white grit surrounding her. The front door was still locked, despite the hour.
Mandy unlocked it, welcoming the waiting customers, settling them in with fresh coffee before joining Gloria to twist on the last caps. In a low voice, she said, “You know what I was saying about opening my own place?”
“Benny turned you down, did he?” Gloria raised a brow and said, “Good. Because you’d work me right into the ground if you were the boss.” She made little yipping sounds while puppeting her hand. “I’d have to quit and go on welfare or get one of those computer jobs Amber keeps talking about. And seeing as I have enough trouble finding the ‘on’ button, never mind dealing with that right clicking business, I’d be on welfare soon enough, anyway. So why even bother?” She threw up her hands.
Mandy sighed and rolled her eyes. “Gloria,” she said, impatience cutting her voice. “I was just spouting off. I’m not going to take over Benny’s and I’m not going to open my own place and compete against him, either.” She made a cutting motion with her arms. “It’s nothing.”
“Too bad. It would’ve been fun to watch.”
3
Mandy eased into Frankie’s house and, shivering, shook the snow off her jacket hood. After a couple of warm days they were right back into winter again, with even more snow falling after a record-breaking year.
“Is this another ice age or has H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks frozen over?” Mandy muttered to Frankie who, instead of taking her coat like he usually did, ambled to the kitchen on the opposite end of the small home.
Mandy sighed and hung up her coat. “Want to race around the track?” she called after him.
No reply.
Well, that was fine. She could act all miffed, too. Miffed that she was still thinking about that kiss and how hot it had been. And how it had brought on a slew of hot and heavy dreams that made her body react just thinking about of them.
They were friends! Friends.
And that’s all they ever should be.
End of story. Happily friendly ever after.
In the meantime, she needed to find some hapless fool with whom to work out her sexual frustrations. Then she could stop projecting all this lust onto Frankie because that was all this was. Just a heck of a lot of tension that needed working out in a physical way.
She gave Heart a quick scratch under the chin, ignoring the wet tennis ball in his mouth as she hurried after Frankie.
“Maybe we could shoot stuff out of the tree with your slingshot?” she called. “It’s kind of cold but…” She rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped. “Oh, sorry.”
Frankie’s boss, Alex, with his hair as neatly parted as ever, sat hunched over the kitchen table. Beside him, Frankie’s fellow parts man, Dodger, the lenses of his glasses so filmy Mandy had to suppress the urge to whip them off his face and give them a good polish, worked on an ancient laptop.
“I didn’t realize you were in the middle of something,” she said.
She pulled up a chair to join the men as Frankie rooted around in the fridge, clinking bottles of beer. She watched him dig deeper into the fridge, his firm butt tucked into a perfectly worn pair of Levis. For the eighth time in the past hour, she wondered why she didn’t just toss the man into her bed. Or his. Or onto the couch. Wherever. It didn’t matter, as long as his hips and lips were right up against hers.
Maybe they could try the friends-as-lovers thing.
She gave herself a mental shake and accepted the cold beer, refraining from shoving it down her shirt to cool off.
Nope, she thought, the friends-as-lovers thing would never work. She needed his friendship, not a whirlwind fling that would ruin everything.
“What are you doing?” she asked Dodger, who was hunting away for the right keys on the laptop.
“We’re planning a show and shine for cars that have been fully restored or have distinctive custom modifications.”
“No trucks?”
Dodger sighed and backspaced, typing ‘vehicles’ where it had said ‘cars.’
“We’re going to add a cruise down Main Street afterward for people to prove they still run,” added Alex.
“Cool.”
“We need a secretary-treasurer,” he said. The men eyed her hopefully and Frankie slipped into the vacant spot to her right.
“Right,” she said. “So the three of you can sit around and scratch your balls all day while taking credit for everything I do.” She shook her head. These guys might be the Houdinis of the car world, but when it came to organizing promotions or dealing with the finer points of a business…she’d be stuck holding the bag. Or flyers, in this case.
“Ooh, bitter woman,” Alex teased.
“How do I save this thing?” Dodger pushed down two keys and then shoved his glasses up his nose, peering at the screen before returning his attention back to the keyboard. “Stupid computers.”
Mandy sighed and sifted through a few papers scattered over the table. They definitely needed help. Maybe she could help keep them organized and on task while somehow showing Frankie that the two of them needed friendship above all else. “It’s pretty cool that you guys are finally doing this,” she said, setting down the papers. “And while I’m not sure about being secretary, maybe there’s something I can help with. When are you having it?”
“We were thinking about holding it during Sports Day,” offered Alex. “There will be ball teams from out of town coming in, and lots of people go to the carnival, parade, and other events. We could tack our event onto the town’s.”
“That’s two months from now,” she stated in surprise, sifting through the papers again. There was way too much to do in eight weeks. Especially with everyone working full time.
Frankie scratched his cheek. “Mandy makes a good point. There’s not a lot of time and when all this snow finally melts there’s going to be a lot of mud and rock slides on the highway. Nobody’s going to want to bring their souped-up anything through until midsummer.”
Mandy stretched her arms over her head. “You guys know so many people who’d come to something like this, you could easily pull off your own event.”
The silent group stared at each other as if to say, “We do?”
She tried to remain patient. “Your contacts? From work? Between the three of you, you’ve got to know a ton of car people.”
“Yeah, totally,” said Dodger, nodding.
“We need a name,” Alex said, rubbing his right eye. “We’re stumped.”
“Blueberry Cruise,” Mandy said.
“I like it!” said Alex, slapping the table.
“Yup. Write it down,” Dodger said.
“You’re the one with the computer,” Alex said, receiving a scowl from Dodger who pushed the machine his way.
“What do you think, Frankie?” Dodger asked.
Frankie shrugged but the glimmer in his eyes and the way his shoulders lifted in that sexy, happy way of his made Mandy know it had his vote as well.
Seriously. This was all so easy. They should make her president, never mind secretary.
“You guys need money?” she asked. Their eyebrows went up. “I don’t have any. I’m asking about sponsors,” she clarified. They shook their heads. “I bet you could get Fred to offer all entrants twenty percent off a car wash the day of the show and shine and maybe offer a couple of prizes.”
“Why would he do that?” Dodger asked.
“Why wouldn’t he? You’d be promoting his business, plus his place will be super crazy busy because of you guys.” She sighed. “Listen, I don’t want to be your secretary-treasurer, but I’m happy to help you out as a friend.”
Frankie scratched his neck, head tilted back. She could practically hear the wheels turning as he formulated a plan. Moments later he bent over a fresh piece of paper and began writing line after line. She tried to see what he’d written--daring to hope it was a letter from him professing that her friendship was vital, more vital than anything else and he was grateful for it and the way she was totally saving their butts with all this brainstorming she was doing--but she couldn’t see past his arm.
“Something smells like skunk,” Dodger said, sniffing the air.
“It’s Heart,” Frankie muttered, head down, pen still moving over the paper.
“Poor fellah.” Dodger reached under the table to pat Heart, but retracted his hand at the last second.
“We still need a secretary-treasurer,” said Alex, shooting her a pleading look.
Mandy pushed her chair back. “What did I just say? Just because I have these--” she pointed to her chest “--it doesn’t mean I’m secretary material.”
The three men gave her puppy-dog looks and she struggled to not burst out laughing. She crossed her arms. “No. Way.”
The men kept up the puppy eyes and she addressed Dodger. “Your wife is a secretary. Convince her to do it.”
He sighed. “She’s not interested.”
“Mine neither,” added Alex. “And you just said you’d be happy to help out.”
“Did you even ask them?” she challenged.
“Don’t gotta. Already know,” said Alex, and Dodger nodded his agreement.
Frankie finished writing and passed her his paper. Not a note. A list.
“That’s what we need to do,” he said.
She snorted as she skimmed it. “You guys need a mom, not a secretary-treasurer. “Here.” She wrote her initials beside a few items on his list. “This is what I can help with.”
Frankie peered at the list. “Accounting. Membership applications. Tickets. Prizes.”
She sat back and smiled. All the stuff she knew would drive him batty.
See? You need me as your friend, Frankie. We’re a good team.
“Would you really do all that?” he asked.
She smiled and batted her eyes and ended up knocking an eyelash into one eye, making it water and hurt. She rubbed it and pointed to a couple of things on the original list. “You might want a media manager for the posters, ads, website, and social media. That’s a big job in itself.”
“Wow. This is going to cost.” Dodger shook his head in frustration. “We can’t do it.”
“Ask my brother to do the web work,” Mandy said. “Since his accident, he’s been sitting there twiddling his thumbs. He could figure out a simple website and it’d be really great for him.” Anything to get her brother up and going again instead of sitting around bemoaning the lack of mobility he had due to being stuck in a wheelchair.
Alex gave her an uncertain look. “Um.” He glanced at Frankie. “Does Ethan have experience?”
Mandy straightened her shirt and said, “Sure. He’s done some web stuff.” If they wanted something fancier than he knew how to create she was sure he’d have the time to figure it out before his next hope-against-all-hopes surgery to get him up and walking again.
“Would he do it for free?”
“I can ask,” Mandy said with a shrug, finishing her beer.
Frankie tapped the paper. “You know, this show and shine and cruise night could be good for the whole town. Draw people from outside. I bet we can get someone at the town office to help with some stuff like permits and maybe sponsorship or something.”
The men nodded.
Mandy wiggled her bottle to see if she’d missed any brew. Empty. She grabbed Frankie’s beer and took a swig.
“You know I’m still sick, right?” Frankie asked, frowning at his beer.
She gave a little shrug. “Too late now.” She took another swig and passed it back to Frankie. “You know, if you do it really well, word of mouth will have you doubling the attendance in no time. You’ll be turning people away five years from now.”
“Is that the plan for your restaurant?” Alex asked. “Word of mouth?”
She nearly choked. “My what? Where did you hear that?”
Frankie faced her, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know you were going to open your own place.” His attention was so solely focused on her that she felt the need to shelter her face so he couldn’t pick up every nuance and truth she could never seem to hide from him.
She lifted a shoulder dismissively. “It’s nothing. Gloria misunderstood.”
Frankie, his arm casually slung over his chair’s back, his shirt stretching over his chest. “You really want to, don’t you?”
Mandy cheeks heated and she looked at the ceiling as though it was the most interesting thing in the room. Of course she’d like to. She’d like to be the one getting all the credit for putting smiles on people’s faces. And yes, customers smiled at her at Benny’s while she worked to ensure they had a good experience, but it was her boss who got the two-handed hand squeeze. Sure, he paid the bills, but she was front-line. She was the one nagging the cooks to make sure the meals were at the right temperature. She was the one making sure the customers had the right drinks and got refills. She was the one who remembered what they liked and didn’t like and recommended meals based on their tastes. She was the one who made sure they had flippin’ sugar at their table for their fresh-brewed coffee. She was the one who made the experience something to remember. Something worth coming back for.
“You should do it,” Frankie said with certainty.
Excitement and fear tore through her.
“Really?”
“Really.”
If she opened her own place it would be her getting the accolades from happy customers. Plus, it would put a stop to those annoying looks of pity her peers shot her whenever she took their orders. You might frown down at a waitress, but not the owner.
“You’d be good at it.” Frankie gave a short nod and turned away, his attention back on his own project--as if he’d suddenly remembered the strange grudge between them.
She sighed. Why couldn’t they just be happy and be friends?
“We’re friends,” she blurted out.
“What?” Frankie narrowed his eyes.
Oh, shoot. She’d said that out loud. “Oh, you know. Just saying to myself how nice it is to be working with friends on a fun project like this. Beats waitressing.” She gave a little smile.
“Uh…” Alex gave the other two a glance, then turned his attention back to her and said, “You know you aren’t getting paid for this, right?”
“Of course!” Her skin prickled with embarrassment. “I was just saying it’s nice to have a project with friends. Not at all awkward. Nothing strange in our past or between us because we’ve always been friends. That’s all.”
The men exchanged looks.
Alex cleared his throat. “Would you serve your brownies in your new place?”
“I don’t see why not.” She caught herself. She wasn’t starting her own business. She didn’t have nearly enough cash. Among a business-starting and business-running skill set. “I mean…I can’t afford to do something like that.” She snatched Frankie’s beer and took another swig.
Alex looked over Mandy’s uniform. “Annie says you must get decent p
ay ‘cuz you dress fancy. Spent it all on clothes?” He watched Mandy over his beer bottle as he took a drink.
She straightened her shirt with pride before remembering it was just her yucky uniform. “Well, yeah. But to start a business…I mean, I don’t even have a building. You know?”
“Frankie’s got a place.” Dodger leaned back in his chair so he could open the fridge and pass Mandy a fresh beer. He pointed his own bottle at Frankie. “Your grandpa left you that place on Main. Sitting empty.” He turned to Mandy, giving her a wink. “I bet if you asked nicely, Frankie would let you use it.”
Mandy glanced at Frankie, who was staring stonily at Dodger.
“For a price, of course,” Dodger added quickly. He laughed and nudged Mandy. “Or just sleep with him. Then he’ll give you whatever you want!” He chortled. “Worked for Alex and his wife.”
With Frankie suddenly resembling a stone statue, Mandy wanted to stand up and smack Dodger’s head against something solid.
“I wouldn’t want to enter into business with my best friend,” she said. She reached over to try and pat Frankie’s hand, which was clutched around his beer. She added softly, “Frankie’s friendship means too much to me. I wouldn’t do anything to put it at risk.”
“What do you think this is?” Alex gestured to the scattered papers on the table. “This is business.”
“This is play.” Mandy tried to keep smiling and avoided looking at Frankie, who was still clutching his beer, not moving it toward his straight, thin, white lips.
“I would think being friends would help,” Frankie said quietly. “You want someone who knows your strengths and weaknesses and can support you and bring out your best. You don’t have to be independent all the time.”
“I’m not.”
He gave her a look. “Over the long haul, you’d have a greater likelihood of success if you let someone you know and trust by your side instead of some other Joe.”
“What you’re saying is probably true, Frankie,” she said, her voice trembling a little. “But where would you be if it all went south and you lost your best friend? There would be nobody there to pick up the pieces when it all broke.”