Tim’s arrest had already made the La Pierre Gazette, albeit in just a single line citing vandalism that had been mixed in with a host of other petty crimes the townsfolk had committed that week. But in a place where stolen turkeys and bar room brawls were the norm, a blackmail charge would get a lot more notice.
Obviously, going over to confront Serina and breaking the door wasn’t the best way to keep a low profile or de-escalate the situation, either. There had to be a better way, but if there was, Maggie hadn’t thought of it yet. And, apparently, neither had her sisters…
To her knowledge, at least. Something told Maggie she was missing some integral pieces of the puzzle. Pieces she was going to pry out of them tonight, if she could manage it. Once they laid all their cards on the table, her included, they’d surely be able to figure out how to attack this thing head on and protect both Maeve’s name and themselves.
She made a mental note to ask them all if they could spend the evening together. Not in separate rooms cleaning, or in their bedrooms watching television separately, like they had been most nights. But like sisters, putting back a bit of Mama’s moonshine and playing games. Something that would help them let off a little steam and maybe bond in a way that Maggie was sure Maeve had intended.
She was still deep in thought when The Luxe came into view. She was a big vessel, one of the largest structures in all of La Pierre, and Maggie could see it near half a mile away. As she got closer, her heart sank when she saw the condition of the old boat. It hadn't seen a paint job in years and the “L” had fallen away, leaving the sign to read “The uxe” instead. Based on what she saw so far, she had a pretty good idea of what it would look like inside.
Sasha pulled up to the dock and parked her car, taking a quick glance round before getting out. There was a beat-up Pinto pulling in behind her and, for a moment, her heart skipped a beat. Before she could make out the identity of the driver in the distance, the car did a one-eighty and pulled out of the lot. Probably just missed their turn. Apparently, blackmail and vandalism made a body paranoid.
Sort of like sneaking around did, her subconscious chimed in helpfully.
She wasn’t sneaking, she reminded herself. Or, she wouldn’t be for long, at least. In fact, if she had her way, she’d be telling her sisters about this visit tonight.
She shoved the twinge of guilt aside and walked carefully over the ominously creaking bridge at the end of the dock that led to the boat. Likely yet another reason Martin wasn’t getting people in the door. Despite her first impressions, she was excited to go inside for the first time in more than a decade.
It wasn’t quite yet noon, so the lack of customers lining up to get inside was no surprise. She was struck by the lack of staff, though. No one had even greeted her upon entering and, aside from the janitor scrubbing the windows, the section that should’ve acted as a reception area was empty.
The janitor looked up and gave her a wave, which she returned as she passed through to the main deck. Instantly, the smell of smoke had her wrinkling her nose and she winced as she looked around. Aside from a cocktail waitress, a croupier filing her nails at the craps table, and a dealer who was running a game of blackjack for two players, it was a ghost town. If that kind of ratio could be applied to the whole casino, it must be hemorrhaging money just on maintenance and utilities. Her spirits were slightly raised by the five or so people at the bar with menus in hand and drinks at their elbows.
She walked up to the scarred bar, waving as the barkeep came over to take her order. “Hey, can I get a whiskey sour?”
“No problem,” he said, making the drink while she studied the worn walls dotted with photos of famous people who had visited the casino. Many of them had Mama in them, as well, including one with Dolly Parton with her arm over her shoulder.
So cool.
“Here you go,” the bartender said, placing a glass in front of her. She watched as he put the bottle of cheap, mass-produced whiskey away under the counter and made a mental note to discuss a potential partnership with Sasha if things worked out the way she hoped. Nothing would’ve made Mama happier than seeing the two of them team up to revive the casino and her old moonshining business. Maybe it was just a silly dream, but the pair of them putting their minds to something was a force to be reckoned with.
She sipped the drink, eager to see how the bartender did with it, and was disappointed. It was far too sweet and she could barely taste the whiskey. Maybe she could get Ruthie from over at Crawdad’s to come work here. She was a great bartender who made a good, stiff drink, but she was also quick-witted, warm, and smart. She would be a great bar manager and Billy Rutledge, the owner of Crawdad’s, was a notorious cheapskate. Maggie was pretty sure she’d be able to get Ruthie to come over if she dangled the right bait. Mama had always liked her.
Maggie gulped down as much of the sweet drink as she was able to, and called the bartender over, paying and leaving him a dollar for a tip. “I was wondering if you could tell me where Martin Bissett’s office is, I’m actually here for a meeting with him at noon.”
“His office is back that way,” he said, leaning over the bar and pointing to Maggie’s right. “Go down until you pass the bathrooms, then take a left.”
She nodded and followed his instructions, passing a small restaurant area with ancient wooden tables that desperately needed a paint job. The decor in the restaurant was completely dated, just like the rest of the casino. Everything was painted in a mixture of avocado green, burnt sienna, and Mama’s favorite deep magenta. Everything that didn’t smell like cigarette smoke looked like it did. She found herself wishing that Maeve had taken over the casino in the 50s, because, at least then, Maggie could’ve gone with a kitschy retro vibe instead of starting with something that looked like an eighty-year-old alcoholic’s depressing man-cave. At least it wouldn’t be hard to make herself look like some kind of magician when it was time to fix the place up, she thought, trying to stay positive. Some decent paint, and some new furniture, the place would already look a hundred percent better.
On a whim, she decided to check the bathroom as she passed it before talking with Martin, but immediately regretted it when she stepped inside. She barely noticed the ugly green tile because of how dirty the whole thing was. One stall was flooded with water on the floor, and there was mold growing in between the cracks in the tiled walls. The sinks looked about as you’d expect from metal sitting for forty years in a boat on salt water. She turned on her heel, trying to compose herself before going into Martin’s office. There was no need to blame him. Maeve had given the casino over to his care when it was already failing.
To the right of his door, there were two pictures with dates in the 1970s in the bottom corner, one of the bar she had passed a bit ago, and the other of the front gaming room that she went through when she entered. She tried and failed to find a single thing that had changed between the photos and her memory of the rooms, other than more peeled paint and an extra layer of dust.
Reaching his door, she rapped on it twice and walked right in. “Hello, I’m Maggie Blanchard. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, smiling at the heavyset balding man.
Martin stood and shot her a nervous smile, gesturing for her to sit. “Hello, Miss Blanchard, it’s nice to meet you. You mentioned on the phone last night that you had some questions for me?” He held out a hand to her and she shook it before taking the seat in front of his desk.
“Yes, as I mentioned, my mother’s attorney suggested I come check the place out as my sisters and I try to determine where to go from here as far as the future of The Luxe.” Might as well get straight to the point. She gave him a reassuring smile to soften the blow. “I understand that profits have declined significantly over the years, is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, “the Casino was already going downhill with the passage of time, but we were left rudderless with your mother’s unfortunate decline in health.” He looked at Maggie sympathetically and added, “I’m so ve
ry sorry for your loss, by the way. Your mother was a wonderful woman.”
“Thank you for your sympathy,” Maggie said, not letting herself get distracted by sentiment. “What do you mean, rudderless? You’ve been here in her stead, no?” She felt guilty at the way he squirmed but she needed answers.
“I was set up to take over the operation of the boat in her absence, but I’d be lying if I said I was well-suited to the job. Our staff is good and I can get them to work hard for me, but I simply don’t have the bigger picture vision to see what changes need to be made. And that’s not to mention a lack of funds and the layoffs that we’ve had to do over the year with the decline in business.”
“What do the books look like, speaking of funds? I’d also like to get an idea of how much staff we are working with at the moment.”
“We were in the red two grand last month,” he said, “and the last time we were in the black was January of last year.”
Maggie shook her head. The situation here was even worse than she had thought. “Where is the money coming from?”
“Your mother was paying it out of pocket and she left some funds to keep the casino running in her will. But, unfortunately, we’re set to use that up by this time next year if it continues this way. And that’s if we don’t make any changes at all. Renovations would cost even more.”
“And about the staffing? How many people are on staff and how is morale? Are they getting paid on time and everything?”
“We have 24 staff members left, basically down to a skeleton crew for a casino this size. They’re good people and they loved Maeve. Even though many of them are forced to do two people’s worth of work, morale is better than you’d expect. Especially the behind the scenes people, who I used to be in charge of. We used to have Lisa for the more front-facing members of staff, like the dealers and such. And to answer your other question, yes, they’re paid on time. To my knowledge, Maeve was never late with a check and I wouldn’t be the one to change that,” he said, still looking nervous.
“And what do you think the problems with the business are? What changes would you make if money wasn’t an object?”
“I think the decor is kind of dated,” he said after a short pause, speaking slowly, like he was being quizzed.
“Agreed.” Maggie laughed. “What about the gross bathrooms? That rickety bridge on the way in? The missing L on the sign? Hell, even the uniform that the staff wear is dated.”
The enormity of the project bore down on her as she spoke, but it only served to ignite her determination further. She suddenly thought of a new use for the money she had been saving for the past eight years to pay cash for a house.
“And that’s all before we even start talking about the marketing issues. I haven’t seen any signs whatsoever for the place downtown, or any billboards on the highway. I bet most people in the area, besides those that live right in La Pierre, don’t even know this place exists anymore.”
Martin took a long pause, gulping before he spoke. “I don’t really know about all that, ma’am. I was never meant to be a high up boss-type like this. I’m more of a middle-management kind of guy. Now that Maeve’s passed, God rest her soul, I’m not even sure who my new boss is going to be.”
Maggie didn’t even realize her decision had been made, without the input of her sisters, until she answered him.
“I am.”
Sasha
Sasha stared up at the swirls in the ceiling, finally catching sight of the one that had always looked like a clown to her from this angle. Her bottom and the back of her thighs were pressed against the headboard, sticking straight up as she stretched out her lower back. Between all the wallpaper stripping, crowbar swinging and wrestling with Lena, her muscles were in full-on protest mode.
She threw an arm over her eyes and let out a groan.
What was she thinking?
"You weren't," she muttered out loud into the empty room. Confessing her wrongdoings to others was low-ish on her list of priorities in life. She was a big proponent of the "suck it up, buttercup" movement. If you wronged somebody, try to do better next time and keep it moving. Spending a whole lot of time or energy on regret was counterproductive. Besides, the people in her daily life didn't do a whole lot of apologizing, so why should she?
Today, though, she was pretty sure she was going to have to bite the bullet and let her sisters know that she was fully aware that she'd messed up.
So far, the ramifications of her actions had been mild. Sure, Lena had chewed her out the whole ride home from Tim Lischio's place, but she'd half expected to be woken up in the middle of the night by Sheriff Joe knocking at the door for all the wrong reasons. To this point, though, all was quiet on the western front. No cops, nothing new from Serina or her flying monkey, Tim, and her sisters had all seemed to disperse in the aftermath of last night's drama. Kate had taken the trip back to her house for the day to replenish Frank's supply of frozen meals and run some errands, Maggie was MIA and Lena had been locked in Maeve's study since morning. It had been a lot more togetherness than what each of them was accustomed to for the past thirty-plus years, and there was bound to be some growing pains as they all figured out how to navigate this new, albeit temporary, normal. Sasha suspected they all just needed a little time apart.
Also, you messed up.
Like, bad.
"Oh my God, all right already, shut up!" she muttered to herself.
The phone next to her buzzed and she peered down to find a text message.
You free tonight?
The text came from a guy she'd saved in her phone as "ball-boy Allan". He'd been wearing an Atlanta Braves cap the night they'd hooked up after a particularly difficult day caring for her mom. She'd gone to Crawdad's to clear her head and had wound up back at his place. Since then, he'd messaged her twice. She'd been very polite, so far, explaining that her mother passed away and she needed to be with family right now.
Her phone pinged again and an image popped up on the screen. For a quick second, she wasn't sure what she was looking at, but then it hit her.
"Oh, lord."
Apparently, two weeks was the appropriate amount of time to allow a person to grieve before sending them pictures of one's twig and berries.
She deleted his contact information from her phone and then blocked his number. She knew what she wasn't going to do tonight, but the thought of sitting in this house and waiting in breathless anticipation for the other shoe to drop with this whole Serina thing, while she and her sisters tiptoed around one another, wasn't exactly appealing, either.
"Hey, you."
Sasha tipped her head backward to find Maggie standing over her, grinning down at her.
"Wanna get drunk with me tonight?"
Sasha swung her legs gingerly off the side of the bed and rolled into a sitting position with a grin.
"Absofrickinglutely."
Maggie held up a half bottle of Maeve's moonshine and shook it. "We can start with this, plus, there're two bottles of Prosecco in the fridge. That should do it."
Sasha snorted and padded over to her dresser. "And if it doesn't, I got it covered." She held up her own mason jar of moonshine and grinned.
Maggie led the way out of the bedroom, and Sasha followed behind, amazed at how quickly her mood had shifted. The two of them had been closer over the years than either had been with Kate and Lena. Largely because they were much closer in age and had spent years with just the two of them in the house with Maeve, long after Clyde died and Lena and Kate had moved out. But also because Kate had been busy getting her nursing degree and then raising kids while Lena had avoided La Pierre whenever possible once she'd left. The past five years or so, Kate had been more present, making the drive at least once a month, but Sasha and Maggie stayed in close contact the whole time. No matter how busy her younger sister got with her freelance business or life in general, she always made time for their twice a week gabfest and their monthly meet up for drinks, just the two of them. It was weird h
ow they were so different, but got along so well. Of course, raised as sisters, they still fought sometimes. But nothing ever got between them for long. Knowing that, at least, Maggie wasn't angry with her thawed the block of ice in her chest just a little.
It was wonderful having someone in her life she never had to pretend with and could tell anything to.
Well, almost anything...
"I had a feeling at least you were going to say yes, so I picked up a pizza from Addaro's and a box of cupcakes from Honeypie's."
"Sausage and fennel?" Sasha demanded, her mouth already watering. She realized with a start she hadn't eaten all day, besides a piece of toast with her coffee early that morning.
"Of course." Maggie began giving her the rundown of cupcake flavors but, by then, Sasha's attention had turned backward to the rest of Maggie's previous sentence. She held up a hand and slowed to a stop. "Wait, what do you mean 'at least' I was going to say yes?"
Maggie turned slowly, one hand on the bannister of the spiral staircase. "Well, Kate is on her way back from her house now, and aside from last night with Joe, Lena's usually home, so I thought it could be the four of us. Together."
Sasha scratched at her chin as she contemplated the thought. She didn't want to let Maggie down, but the thought of being forced to sit in a room under the heat of Lena's disapproving glare for hours on end wasn't exactly what she'd been envisioning.
Maggie's pocket buzzed and she dug in and pulled out her phone, shooting Sasha a sheepish grin.
"Good news! Kate just pulled into the driveway and Lena is done working...They're both in."
Well, dang.
For a brief moment, the instinct to rush headlong back into her bedroom and drink alone nearly won out. It was only that deep, throbbing sense of guilt that had her legs propelling her toward the stairs once again.
She'd go down there, apologize like a grown-up, and eat dinner with her sisters. If it wasn't going well, she'd hightail it back upstairs to hide.
Maeve's Girls Page 10