CHAPTER 16
Harper
Ding!
I know it’s him before turning around. Four days. He lasted four days without my—Dad’s—coffee. He didn’t outlast the crowd, however. The usual gaggle is here, watching and whispering.
Aiden sighs when he reaches the counter.
I wordlessly pour our house black, today just a Columbian blonde roast and our secret ingredients. I push it across the counter to him, and rearrange some coffee cake squares in the closest display while I wait for his food order.
He doesn’t say anything until I look up. Once I make eye contact with his black irises, a terrifying act on its own, he barks, “Quiches again.” I raise an eyebrow, ready to be angry. “Please,” he adds.
I cool my jets with a nod and begin to gather them. He takes a sip, which I only know because I hear him sigh in ecstasy afterward.
“So good, isn’t it?” Maxine prods the Lord of the Mansion.
I glance over to see him staring down at his to-go cup like it holds all the secrets of the world. He shifts his grumpy stare to her and asks, “Do you know what it is? That flavor?”
Maxine chuckles and shakes her head, “No one does.” Aiden looks at me and Maxine adds, “So don’t bother asking.”
I smile a tiny bit. You tell him, Max.
“Surely we can make an arrangement,” Aiden mutters under his breath.
“Nah, man,” Braxton says, piping up from where he is, believe it or not, studying. “You’ll just take the special sauce and bottle it, sell it, take it worldwide, and, like, ruin it. Then it won’t be special sauce, bro. Like, no offense.”
The Dark Lord scoffs, “None taken, I suppose.”
“Sorry,” Braxton pipes up in his seat, “Hey are you going tonight to the—”
“Heyo!” Tyrone cuts him off.
Aiden looks around, then back at the poor kid. Now we’ve done it. I get the feeling if there’s one thing Mr. Rich Pants can’t stand it’s not knowing what everyone else in a room knows. Too bad.
Braxton shakes himself free of Aiden’s Tell Me What I Want To Know Immediately Glare.
“Right. Fight club,” Braxton mutters.
Aiden looks around again, “Fight club?”
Maxine chuckles. I grin. This is fun, this will drive him crazy.
Ding!
Steven walks in, happy to have stepped right into some drama. He asks the room, “What? Why is Vandy’s head about to explode?”
“Steven,” Aiden smiles a mega-watt million-dollar smile at my old friend. He adds a downright silky sounding, “Good morning.”
“Get outta here!” Maxine yells at Steven.
“What? What’d I do?”
Maxine gets up to literally push Steven away, “He’ll say,” she deepens her voice hilariously, “‘Let’s negotiate’ and you’ll fold like a house of cards, you ninny! Out!”
“C’mon, mate, what’s Fight Club code for?” Aiden tries as Steven is backed out of the door.
“Fight? Ohhh!” Steven beams, feeling like I do, probably. Giddy on the high that we have something Aiden wants. Knowledge. About something silly, but Aiden doesn’t know that. Steven winks, “First rule of fight club…”
Aiden’s shoulders sag, “…Is that you don’t talk about Fight Club.”
I clear my throat at the register, iPad and quiche box waiting for him.
His eyes go thin as he studies me. But he doesn’t bother asking, surprisingly. “I’ll figure it out,” he says, after he finishes paying. I just shrug. He turns but instead of leaving with his order, he pauses to stare down at Braxton.
The teen turns beet red and gulps audibly like we’re in some kind of sitcom. Maxine inches toward Braxton protectively but Aiden just nods. The Dark Lord taps the tabletop near the open textbook, and leaves.
Braxton dissolves to nearly become one with the chair. Maxine wacks his shoulder. He protests, “What, I didn’t say it!”
“No, but you said enough.”
Tyrone waves us off, “Ah, so what, he has no friends to tell anyway.”
“And,” Brax sits up, “don’t we want people curious about…Fight Club?”
Everyone groans at the kid. I laugh. He’s not wrong.
We do want everyone wondering about it. But it would have been nice to have one single event Aiden didn’t come to.
Just one night of fun without his disapproving glares and sighs.
But he did come back on that helicopter, apparently.
From D.C., is the rumor. I guess he’s a part of the town for the foreseeable future.
We’ll just have to accept it. Temporarily. It’s not like he’ll be staying forever.
No one does that except for me.
I fight a sigh and put a new rack of quiches in the oven.
Cute bakery, Harp! And the plan is working! Easter killed…oh. Sorry, Lord. Easter worked. Tonight will work too. Get busy blossoming, girl!
_____
Ding!
“What the…holy crap!”
Was that Braxton’s voice?
I was on my way out the door but I stop and turn back. I walk to the counter to see.
How?
Aiden is holding what appears to be Braxton’s dream come true. Some fancy, neon, sparkling—I think literally—skate board.
That’s what he was doing when he paused. He was studying Braxton for weak spots. He must have clocked the busted old board at his feet and…what then? Made a call to his minions to get this thing immediately delivered via drone? Are we living in the future now?
“Let’s negotiate,” Aiden says to the boy.
I cough. The man and the teenager both glance at me. I make my eyes wide and tell Braxton, You have all the power here! Use it!
I fight a laugh as Braxton straightens in his chair and puts a hand to his mouth to clear his throat. His voice comes out comically deeper. “I’ll give you a hint.”
“This is a limited edition,” Aiden says. Braxton squeaks. “And it’s signed,” The bajillionaire adds.
“What?” Braxton’s voice now sounds like Minnie Mouse. The outmatched kid looks at me, then the board, Aiden, and me again. But, God bless him, he loves this town. He blinks hard and it looks like it physically pains him to say, “A hint. Final offer.”
“Fine, give me the hint.”
“A-wassailing,” Braxton says quickly.
“A what?”
“That’s the hint,” Braxton crosses his arms, pretending he is prepared to lose all of his hopes and dreams over this silly secret.
“Like the Christmas song,” I say from the register. Aiden does a double take at me. Yes, I spoke to you. Get over it.
“And this is a valuable hint?” Aiden asks Braxton as he extends a hand to shake on it, while looking at me. I nod. Give him the damn skateboard before he vomits from the anxiety of all this in the middle of my shop!
“Yes,” Braxton’s voice breaks on the word as he reaches out a hand while keeping his eyes on the skateboard.
“Very well,” Aiden says before handing over the board.
“Th-th-thank you,” Braxton says. He…he’s crying. He’s looking up at Aiden like he’s the one who arose from the grave last week and he is actually tearing up.
“Come now,” Lord Bridgerton straightens, visibly bothered, “Don’t thank me, this was an even trade. Nothing to sniffle about like a couple of girls.”
What did he just say?
I flip the counter door and stomp out.
“Oh, uh, right, yeah,” Braxton wipes his face and nods, so clearly embarrassed. Just when I thought maybe Vanderbully wasn’t actually the absolute worst. He just shamed this sweet kid and insulted women everywhere.
“Well, you have your hint,” I say to Aiden, one hand on a hip. I hope my eyebrows are screaming, so it’s time to go.
Aiden looks at me, my posture, then the bag on my shoulder. He frowns, “Is your car fixed?”
I cross my arms, “Are you planning to buy something?” Because otherwise you’re just loitering! Bye!
“Let me give you a lift,” he says.
“No,” I turn away from the jerk and toward the teenager, “Hey, B, I need some muscles in the back, could you help?”
He sniffs again, “Yeah.” He shakes his head, still shocked, excited, and embarrassed. “Yeah, sure.”
“I can—” Aiden starts but I give him a look that I hope tells him exactly what I think about the idea of him anywhere near me or Brax or my store right now. Bullies are not welcome here!
“Great,” I smile at the kid I’ve known since he was in diapers.
“Bring your stuff,” I add, letting him know that it is one hundred percent okay to love this new skateboard to the point of public emotional displays, and to want to bring it into the back with us.
And maybe cradle it to his chest like a newborn baby if he wants.
“So, you’re not leaving, then?” Aiden asks, watching as I help Braxton pack up his things. I don’t answer him.
He watches us step away. Braxton turns to say thank you again but stops himself and instead raises his phone up. He wags his eyebrows at the phone, then turns away to walk behind the counter. I fight a smile and don’t even have to turn to look. I’m sure Aiden is frowning behind us.
Good luck uncovering our town secret, Mr. Know It All.
_____
“Uh, A-wassailing?” I hear his rich voice nearby.
Yeah, so, I guess he figured out. Not that it was hard. The whole point was to generate buzz in the nearby towns and create a pop-up sort of speakeasy.
“This?” He says, stalking right over to the table where I sit with Steven, Tyrone and a few local college kids. “Fight club is karaoke night?”
Everyone shushes him since there’s a gal up singing Total Eclipse of the Heart with all her, heart, I guess. She’s pretty bad. Enthusiastic, though.
“You didn’t want me to see this?” He gestures at the stage.
I sigh, annoyed at how annoyed he seems. What is he doing here?
Go away!
“It’s pop up karaoke night in the woods. With a password and alcohol. It’s cool,” Steven defends our idea. Aiden scoffs and looks around. His features soften when he actually takes in the event.
Thanks to the unseasonably warm weather, or maybe Braxton’s TikTok, it’s packed out here in this clearing.
We reused the string lights and lanterns from the maple tap.
We had the boys grab tables from one of the abandoned camp sites and move them here.
Plus some folding chairs, logs, stumps, and whatever else we could find around town.
Tyrone had Miles help him move some of his speakers out here and the same young guys who moved the tables got a few extra bucks for setting up YouTube karaoke on an iPad, rather than worrying about an actual karaoke machine.
There are a lot of young faces here I don’t recognize.
Steven saw a silent disco event similar to this on TikTok and we made it our own.
“A cool pop up speakeasy wit a door fee, hey! Did anybody charge this guy?” Tyrone jokes.
Aiden dips his chin in concession, “They did.”
“No BYOB, either. Gotta buy a drink from James over there. And popcorn balls courtesy of this one,” Steven bumps shoulders with me.
“Huh,” Aiden says.
“Yeah. Huh. Now get on up and sing!” Tyrone tells Aiden as Total Eclipse comes to an end.
The man goes white in the yellow lamp light, “Oh, absolutely not. I’m awful.”
Our jolly host of the evening laughs, “I figured. That’s why I wanna see!”
Aiden rolls his eyes at Tyrone. Then those black orbs land on me. He lifts an eyebrow. I shake my head with wide eyes. I’m awful too. He nods.
“You know who is not awful? Me!” Steven says. “Neither is my Masters In Music Side Piece, c’mon, Miles, let’s wow these people.” Everyone cheers. Miles follows behind Steven as bashful as ever but the two of them can really sing. There’s no denying it.
“This one’s for Harper! Tonight was mostly her idea, isn’t it great?” The crowd claps, hollers, lifts glasses and stomps their feet. I try to shrink into my chair. But then I hear the tune and can’t help myself. I smile right away.
The island sounds start, pulsing guitars and, well, I don’t exactly know what. I’m not a musician. I just know I love it. I watch the stage, giddy, but Aiden watches me until it seems like he can’t take it anymore, “Are you originally from California then?”
“Shhhh!” Tyrone scolds him.
The duo does a truly stellar rendition of one of my favorites. I would normally be cheering and smiling ear to ear. But this guy just will not stop staring.
“Why are you here?” I finally ask him when the song ends. He frowns at how angry I sound. Well, I am angry. You ruined my song and you’re ruining the vibe and our whole town!
“Young bloke invited me,” Aiden huffs right back. I roll my eyes. Invited is the biggest stretch of all stretches. Aiden, annoyingly, reads my face like a freaking book. “It was an invitation and you bloody well know it. And I paid at the door, I’ve every right to be here.”
He starts to manspread in his little folding chair. At the same time, I see that James has run out of Coors Light. Go ahead, settle in, Vandy. I’m out!
I wave James’s lone employee off with a quick, “I got it,” before I hop up and head to the old van James uses for Nog’s.
“Got what?” Aiden asks.
“Case of beer, looks like,” Tyrone answers.
“Harper!” I stomp away faster, feeling his dark, grumpy presence following behind me like a cloud. He grumbles, “Does anyone help around here other than you?”
I throw open the backdoor of the big catering van that has…seen better days. I climb up, ignoring the billionaire huffing my name.
“Woman! Let me help you!” He calls up and then he’s in the tiny space with me.
“Wait! The—”
Slam!
“What?” He asks, following my line of sight to the door. I brace myself. “What?” He repeats, but it sounds like he’s starting to understand what just happened.
“It jams,” I say out loud.
“Nonsense,” he dismisses the thought like I’m an idiot who doesn’t know this town and its businesses and trucks like the back of my hand. He turns and, of course, cannot get the door open.
We’re stuck.
In here.
Together.