I have charming neighbors.
Today we’re having a bachelorette party for Freya at Marina’s diner. They’re closing an hour earlier so we can eat some nice, greasy food and talk crap about everyone. Well, everyone else will talk, and I’ll be listening as usual.
I shower and get dressed four hours before the agreed-upon meeting time since I promised Kayla that I’d pick her up to drive to Springfield to get the penis-shaped cupcakes. We decided against ordering local because we didn’t want to give our eighty-year-old town baker a stroke with our unusual order.
By the time I park in front of Justin’s garage and honk, I’m a nervous wreck. Kayla has been working for Archie in his parlor for a couple of years now, and I think they’ve known each other even longer. And her being in my car with all that knowledge seems to unsettle me.
It’s not like I plan to interrogate her, but people tend to spill secrets in my presence. A very useful power for a reporter, but not so much for my personal life—I’m like a vault of town secrets. If even a tenth of it ever gets out, the whole town will go down.
With a wide smile on her face, Kayla parks her butt in the passenger seat and smacks the door shut so hard the whole car shakes. She looks at me, her face made up in full glam, her hair is artfully braided in some style I’ll never be able to manage.
I eye her back carefully, mentally apologizing to my dear, loyal car for her. “Jeez, who pissed in your cereal this morning?”
“It’s Cherry,” she says, clicking her tongue and throwing her braid to the front of her chest.
“Who’s Cherry?” I pull off the curb.
“She’s Archie’s friend,” she answers and digs into her bottomless bag. I’m grateful she doesn’t notice how the car nearly swerves at her words.
My hand squeezes the steering wheel harder.
“His girlfriend?” I try to ask as calmly as possible.
“No,” she snorts, and I relax. “She’s his manager. Cherry oversees the chain of his parlors. Don’t know how they work it out, but she’s a dog with a bone when it comes to business.”
“He has a chain of parlors?” I ask, surprised, glancing at her in wonder.
“Yeah.” She gives me a dubious look. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head.
“Yeah, like, he has a ton of locations in the States and franchises in a few countries.”
I quirk a brow at her, and she laughs.
“What? The dude is rich. You didn’t know?”
I shake my head again, and she continues, looking impressed with me falling out of the rumor mill, “Did you know that he paid for my classes in full?”
I send her a curious look.
“Yep.” She leans her head back on the leather seat. “We agreed to a contract that I would be working exclusively for him for five years after I graduate. That was the only term. But we actually never signed anything, and he just paid in full for the whole thing anyway.” She waves her hand in the air. “I was shocked.”
I’m not. I knew he was like that.
“Not anymore, though; I’m not surprised,” she continues, oblivious to me side-eyeing her. “I mean, for the time I’ve known him, he’s donated to so many charities. I’m surprised he has anything left at this point. And he buys gifts for everyone all the time. And pays for everything. Like, everything.” Her eyes widen to accentuate how amazed she is as she looks at me. “Hank’s son, the guy in the Boston salon,” she clarifies since I have no idea who Hank is, “needed a hip surgery because he got hurt during his football game at school. Boom.” She snaps her fingers. “Archie paid for it. So yeah, he does a lot of things like that.”
Makes total sense to me—besides being a genuinely good guy and wanting to help people, he’s trying to pay off some sort of moral debt he’s tied himself to.
Suddenly Kayla frowns. “How did I get to telling you this story?”
“You started talking about Cherry,” I answer with a chuckle.
“Right.” Another snap of fingers. “So, we kind of became friends.” Kayla’s voice wavers a bit, and I send her a curious look. “What?” she asks, a little too defensively. “Well, she might have a tiny crush on me.” Her cheeks turn red, and I can tell Kayla is enjoying it. Good for her, I hope Justin sweats a little—he sure deserves it; the whole town would agree on that. “But anyway, she called me this morning and asked to keep an eye on Archie.”
“Why?” My head whips toward her, and she cries out, pointing ahead,
“Watch the damn road, would ya?”
