“Those are thecutest,” Marie said.
“Yeah, she thought so, too.” Leah felt her momentary smile dim. “And she said my resume was great. But they won’t have a position available until next month. I got the feeling they’ve had a ton of applicants.”
“Well, you’re bound to be the best one.”
“Mom.”
“And a month isn’t that far.”
But it was when you needed to make rent, and Leah could see that her mother knew it, based on her slight wince. She was trying to look on the bright side, though, the way she had Leah’s whole life.
“Oh, honey,” she said, in response to whatever Leah’s face was doing, her voice softening. “Something’ll turn up.”
An array of local business cards sat perched in plastic holders on this part of the counter, free advertising for the florist, and the salon – and Dartmoor Cycle Repair. Leah traced the corner of the card, with its familiar black dog silhouette – with a fingertip. She’d matched the pink of her nail polish to the pink of the hibiscus on her shoes. “Maggie’s offered to help me find something,” she said in an undertone, reluctantly.
“She did? Well, let her!” Marie laughed. “There’s your answer right there!”
Leah lifted her head, frowning, already forming a response – but a customer arrived, a harried-looking young woman with a laptop bag and a Tennessee sweatshirt. Marie held up a finger and stepped aside to take her order.
Leah picked up one of the Dartmoor cards and swiveled around on her stool, surveying the mostly-crowded shop, the pedestrians passing the windows out on the sidewalk. The air smelled of strong, freshly-ground beans, flaky pastry, gooey chocolate. Sweet, soothing, familiar scents.I should just work here, she thought, but then caught sight of a high school-age boy in a blue Cook’s Coffee apron bussing a table. Her paycheck here wouldn’t cover her expenses, and she refused to take a job from a teen who needed it.
She glanced down at the card in her hand, that symbol that drew love and hate, awe and contempt in this city. For her, the Dogs had always meant Ava, her best friend; had always meant plenty to eat, and a free car tow, and a cheeky grin from Aidan. They’d never frightened her.
“Maggie has contacts,” Marie said, and Leah turned back around. Mom had her hands braced on the counter, head titled to a no-nonsense angle. Imploring. “You just interviewed with my contact. What would it hurt to let Maggie help if she’s willing?”
Nothing, she knew, logically. It would hurt nothing. The Dogs got things done in this city. Maggie could open all sorts of doors: sometimes with sweetness, and sometimes with force. Leah’s parents had never seemed bothered by that fact. Dad had served in the Marines – stationed in South Korea, where they’d found her, and adopted her – and he was a realist under his good cheer. She’d asked him once, when she was a kid, why Ava got picked on at school because her dad was a Dog. Her own father had shrugged and said, “Some people are assholes, and like to beat up on others. And some people get shit done: that’s Kenny Teague.”
“I guess I’m just being stubborn,” she admitted.
Marie nodded, and bit back a smile. “Wonder where you got that.”
Leah snorted, and replaced the card. “Did you guys know the Dogs bought up most of this block of shops?” Cook’s sat at the very end of the strip that housed Bell Bar and the future Maude’s.
Marie nodded and picked up a rag to wipe at the spotless counter. “Yeah. They’ve got the construction going all the time now. This section of street’s really gonna look good and cleaned up. It’s needed a makeover for a while.”
It had. But Leah saw a twitch at the corner of her mother’s mouth, a faint sign of tension. She thought of what she’d seen when she first walked in, those shadows beneath Marie’s eyes.
“Mom,” she said, carefully, and Marie’s head snapped up. “Is everything okay?”
“What? Yeah, of course.” Marie laughed, a forced, brittle sound, and glanced down at the counter.
“Mom?”
Marie’s head lifted again, and she gathered a breath. Leah watched a variety of emotions flicker across her face; saw the debate happening behind her eyes.
But then the bell jangled above the door, Marie’s gaze shifted toward it, and she put on a mostly professional smile – one tinged with true warmth. “Afternoon, boys.”
Leah turned to see Aidan, Tango, and Carter walking up toward the counter. Carter was sporting two ugly, but healing shiners; he wore a bit of tape across the bridge of his nose, still, the skin around it mottled purple and green. He looked exactly like someone who’d been punched in the face by a jealous boyfriend.
“Hi, Mrs. Cook.” Aidan propped a hip against the front of the counter and perused the cookies that waited there behind the raised, glassed-off display case. “You got any peanut butter chocolate chunk today?”
“Always.” Marie snapped open a paper bag. “Carter, honey, what happened to yourface?”
Aidan snorted. “He tripped and fell on some dipshit’s fist.”
“What happened?” Marie asked, tone taking on a distinctly maternal edge. Women of all ages were fooled by Aidan’s bad boy swagger and good looks, but never Leah’s mother.
“Nothing, ma’am,” Aidan said. If his grin was aiming for innocent, it missed the mark by a long shot. “Shop accident.”
