Part 7 (1/2)
She touched my arm in rea.s.surance. ”It will only help you to have Kick! here. That place is special and he's drawing in your target customer.”
My point exactly.
My handsome nemesis dangled from a ladder across the street, straightening his new sign. He waved, leaning back almost far enough to fall. I waved back, and prayed he wouldn't plummet to the ground. Although, admittedly, it might make this all a bit simpler.
Lord, forgive me.
I sure was saying that a lot lately. All Adrian's fault. ”Still, this shop looks half the size of the one he had in Chicago. He'll probably go back once he gets this going.”
Roch.e.l.le shook her head. ”Don't you read that Black Enterprise subscription I pay for every month? He franchised a few months ago. All the new stores are smaller.”
A few months ago? All the new stores? How many were there?
I frowned. ”Is there any other good news you'd like to share, Roch.e.l.le?” Is that where she'd been running off to those weekends she said she was busy? To every Kick! shop she could find? Not that I could blame her. I looked outside again. Neighbors. He had said that, right? Not compet.i.tors or partners or any other such thing? Suddenly I wasn't so sure. Roch.e.l.le carries a tape recorder at all times. Today it would have come in handy.
”Nothing else I can think of to tell you.”
Cool. I had nothing else to tell her, either. It'd take a week of sleepless nights to figure out what I was thinking, let alone trying to decipher Adrian's thoughts. ”There's just one thing.” I retrieved the cheetah from behind the counter. ”He bought me this.” What happened to keeping my mouth shut?
”I knew it! You'd better act right, Dane. This is it.”
”This is something, that's for sure.”
Roch.e.l.le counted out six French fries and nibbled them one at a time, like carrots. Though I'd seen her do it before, I watched in amazement, wondering how long it had taken her to get that down to a system. More time than I had, I decided, shoving a handful of fries into my starving mouth. My taste buds sang in my head.
My joy must have reflected on my face.
”You are pitiful, you know that? A few fries and you light up like a Christmas tree. A handsome man comes in here, hauls some stuff to your back room and gives you a gift and all you can think about is how it's going to affect your business.”
I shrugged, licking the salt off my fingers. They usually didn't put enough salt on, but someone had known just how bad I needed it. ”What else am I supposed to be concerned about? Everybody can't go from Singleville to becoming the Bachelorette of the Year in one swoop-”
”I resent that.”
”Really? I'm glad to hear it. I know this stuff with Jordan is weirding you out, but you're really scaring me. That dress you wore Sunday was down right obscene...” I scooped a spoonful of chocolate shake to my lips, glad to have something to shove in my mouth besides my foot. Why was I discussing this with Roch.e.l.le? I knew she was going through something, but hey, so was I. Several somethings, in fact.
The fact that no ring had appeared on her finger or that my brother had neglected to surface hadn't been lost on me. Neither had her sudden surge of desire for a relations.h.i.+p. What I couldn't understand was why? Did she need someone to want her now? To make her feel pretty again? All she had to do was look into the mirror.
I stared at the cheetah on top of the cash register. It went deeper than wanting to be pretty. That much I knew. ”Have you heard anything else from him?”
Roch.e.l.le turned her back to me, continuing her fry nibbling in silence.
”I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-”
”Don't worry about it, okay? I don't expect you to understand. There are some things even you can't get.”
On the outside again. ”So I can't 'get it,' huh? Why, because I'm not a mother? Because I've never been almost-married or whatever you and Jordan were?” I guess Trevor's proposal didn't give me any points.
She shoved a box of Coconut Lime body lotions over to the display case. ”That about sums it up.”
Six containers of Banana Berry Mint mask lined the facial cart, all as fresh as when I'd pureed them this morning. Though I'd sell the fruit products as good for twenty-four hours with refrigeration, I wanted to give the cooler a trial run and do some bacteria challenge tests for my own information-now that I knew how to do such things. I should have given my comments to Roch.e.l.le a trial run, too. This conversation had taken a turn into the abyss of famous last words.
And of course, I started it.
Where is Tracey when I need her?
Off fighting with her husband instead of fighting with us. Leaving me on the outside of the circle of the wed and/or childbearing. How long would it be before Tracey entered the Mom Club, too? Her b.u.mpy beginning with Ryan didn't fool me. Tracey was too stubborn to give up on anybody. She was still my friend, wasn't she? Lord willing, they'd stick, Roch.e.l.le and Jordan-or somebody, the way she was acting-would work things out and here I'd be, as always, the last Sistah standing.
How would I ever survive without them? Really bad, considering how I was cutting up right now. Roch.e.l.le stacked on in silence, her perfect placement showing the tangerine-colored bottles from every angle. Her rapid breathing meant she was fuming but too loyal to leave.
Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up in due time.
I shoved another mouthful of shake down my throat to cool my burning thoughts. Humility? Again? People who thought Christians were wimps had another thing coming. It was hard. Crazy hard.
Roch.e.l.le caught me staring off into s.p.a.ce. ”Are you just going to sit there? Or are you going to do some work? There's a lot to do here and I have to go get Jericho from basketball in a couple hours. I don't have to be here.” Roch.e.l.le sniffed and righted the last bottle of lotion on the top shelf of the three-tiered display. I'd wanted them down on the table, but she'd insisted everything be eye level or above. And she was right.
As usual.
I opened my mouth again, but not for chocolate this time. Rather for a heaping dose of humble pie. I was determined to swallow, no matter how bad it tasted. Hopefully, she'd go easy on me. ”I know you don't have to be here.” I walked over and put my hands on her shoulders, careful not to touch her skin in case some lye from earlier might have snuck under my fingernails. I'd gone to scratch my back after a batch once and almost killed myself.
”I appreciate everything you've done for me the past few months. You're always here for everybody. Me. Tracey. Jericho. Tracey's wedding totally rocked and it wouldn't even have happened if not for you. Shoot, Tracey probably would have forgotten to show up. But you made it possible, because that's what you do-look out for people and it's okay for you to look out for yourself, too. I guess I'm-well, I guess I'm just a little left out, you know?”
Roch.e.l.le nodded. ”Yeah. We've all done everything together for a long time. It feels real weird that Tracey isn't here today. Opening this shop...”
I laughed. ”Yeah. I knew there was too many fries for some reason.”
”You two are some eating fools.” She shook her head. ”But I know what you mean about feeling left out. Right now, my son has locked me out of his life while he waits for his 'Dad' to arrive. Tracey has moved on...and you-”
Me? ”What? I'm still the same. Nothing's changed.”
Roch.e.l.le swallowed hard and looked up at the chandelier, then around at the slowly filling shelves. ”Everything's changed, baby girl. You just don't know it yet.”
The grand opening wasn't exactly grand, probably because I was comparing Wonderfully Made's one little, two little, three little customers with the line of giggling women spilling onto Adrian's sidewalk. I did manage to snag a few browsers who wanted to buy everything in the store-at a discount.
Brides. Mothers-of-the-Bride. Wedding planners. Even a few grooms. They'd come in small but steady numbers looking for favors for their weddings. I could just imagine the possible impetus of this phenomenon-Renee waving one of my baskets and comparing the prices with her latest Fingerhut catalog.
”Can I get this in lavender? This salt scrub?”
I gritted my teeth at the silver-haired matriarch, so much like my mother would have been. ”No. That's the bottle for the Plumeria products. The lavender is a much lighter shade. If you'd-”
”This is lavender. That's lilac. Brook's wedding colors are not lilac. Can't you just pour that into some of these bottles and put her name on this cute label?”
Oh, fun. ”I'm really not set up to do personalized favors. My printer-”
”I'll pay extra and we'll take all that you have here for the spa party with the bridesmaids.” She fumbled with a large Mount Blanc pen. ”What do you say?”
What could I say? To have any hope of paying Roch.e.l.le back, I needed to sell as much as possible. ”Sold. Let's step over here to work out the details. Can you spell Brook's last name here...”