4. Peyton
Peyton
I’m an early riser, but I like stopping at the cafe on my way to work, so Romy always beats me to the office. This morning, her royal blue hair sways in front of her face as she sits on the stoop outside Good Taste headquarters.
I fumble for my keys and start unlocking the door. “You’re up early, once again.”
“I like the mornings. No one is awake to disappoint me yet.”
And there she is. My Wednesday Addams. I couldn’t do any of this without Romy. When Good Taste started growing, I needed someone that enjoyed staying indoors all day crunching numbers. After interviewing Romy, I knew she was the perfect fit for the gig.
She stands, and her black dress rises to just below her knees. My eyes widen. “Maroon socks? Are you ill?”
Romy never deviates from her classic all-black ensembles. She says she’s forever mourning the person she was before she set up a LinkedIn profile. But today, I clock a glittery eyeshadow on top of her usual black eyeliner and a dark red gloss on her lips.
She pushes her hair behind her ear, and the silver gauge in her lobe sparkles in the sun. “Actually, I have a date tonight. Which I don’t want to talk about.”
“I’m so excited for you!” My enthusiastic expression falters into a frown. “But, uh… this guy. He’s good to you?”
Romy shoots me a sympathetic look, knowing enough of my history to understand the concern behind my question. “He’s good enough, at this point. It’s a small town, Peyton. It’s a miracle I haven’t already kissed his cousin.”
I open the front door and prop it. In true Ohio fashion, the weather has already turned cooler, and a fall breeze sweeps into the shop.
“Well, send me your location just in case.”
“My location? Our date’s in Waterton. My location is always a few miles away from your location at any given time.”
“Fair enough.” I hang up my coat and immediately note a damp odor in our office. “Does it smell slightly weird in here to you?”
Romy sniffs the air and wrinkles her nose, jostling her septum piercing. “I have a cedar bundle in my purse that’ll take care of it. I promise I won’t set off the smoke alarms this time.”
A memory flashes in my mind: our smoke detectors incessantly chirping, followed by me going bananas, removing them in a rage, and never replacing them.
Collapsing in my office chair, I mumble, “To be fair, they, um, might not work anymore.”
I love my modest downtown office, but it could use some TLC.
I lucked out on getting it due to a zoning quirk, and until I started renting, there’d been no tenants since before commercials were unskippable.
I single-handedly cleaned, painted, and prepared the shop for customer consultations.
Good Taste is growing, but paying an employee and meeting overhead expenses doesn’t leave me with much money to spend.
Even though this place has its faults, the location’s premium.
I admire the town square from our front window, appreciating the decorations.
The annual harvest festival is coming up in November.
The town goes all out with the autumn theme—and they start early.
Burgundy flowers line the cobblestone path leading to the gazebo, where large squashes and lanterns are thoughtfully placed.
Our mayor, Charlene, winds maple leaf garland up the lamp post.
“Now that it’s finally cooling down, we should decorate our window and the sidewalk out front. I think the faux hay bales are in the closet.” I sigh happily. “Don’t you just love this time of year?”
Romy purses her lips, spinning in her chair. “It’s better than summer, I’ll give you that.”
I wrap the plaid cardigan draped over the back of my chair around my shoulders and the corners of my mouth curve up. Not even Romy’s tepid-yet-lovable attitude can dull my autumn glow.
She clears her throat. “So… We need to talk about the golf club gig. We owe them an answer soon.”
I cringe on reflex. Eaglewood’s golf club is trying to revamp their image and appeal to a younger crowd—the next generation.
It’s been around forever, and most of the golfers are currently retirees.
Management wants a young, vibrant man and woman to attend as a “couple” and rave about their course and clubhouse restaurant.
They’re willing to pay a hefty sum, but I’m not psyched about the idea, because posing as a couple will more than likely involve touching.
And even if we did find someone who understood my aversion, there aren’t any guarantees that he’d remember, and certainly not enough time to build trust if he happened to forget.
After working so hard to grow my business, I don’t want to risk being triggered at a professional event.
“Um, I still don’t know. Where would we even find a man?”
She cracks her knuckles. “Great question. That brings me to our next topic: hiring a man.”
“Romy…”
“As much as I hate catering to gender essentialism, I do know when to choose my battles. We’re missing out on an entire market in male-dominated industries. We could bring in so many opportunities—and the money that comes with them—if we hired a man, even part time.”
I huff, folding my arms. “Personally, I think it’s sexist.”
Her unconvinced expression radiates skepticism. “You think it’s sexist for that barbershop in Grand Rapids to request a man to promote their new line of grooming products… for men?”
I purse my lips. “Well, who’s to say I couldn’t influence the hell out of beard oil?”
Romy taps her chin. “What about that male sauna attendant request we got last month? The one who had to talk up the guided sessions?”
She has me there.
Averting my eyes, I mutter, “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
When I look up again, Romy’s mouth is twisted to one side. “Listen, I don’t want to mess up the dynamic or make work uncomfortable for you, so if you really don’t—”
I hold my hand up. “Honestly, the sessions with this new therapist have been helping and I’m starting to feel ready to branch out. I do want to build our business. I promise.”
Romy nods. “But also: hos before bros.”
I lift my hand up, palm facing out. “Amen, sister.”
She glances at the large work calendar hanging on the wall. “You’ve got the smoothie gig today?”
“Yep. I have a prep session with the owner for the grand opening next weekend. It’s up in Toledo, so I should get going…
” I trail off and make puppy dog eyes at her.
“As soon as we hang the amber twinkle lights in the window. Pretty please?” I ask sweetly, pressing my hands together in a praying motion.
She sighs in resignation. “Fine. I’ll get the damn pumpkins.”
* * *
Unzipping my light puffer jacket, I take a last look at my outfit in the window outside Globe Fitness.
As someone whose workouts consist solely of walks outside, I had to do some research on current gym trends to be at my best. I should blend right in with my leggings, matching crop top, and light makeup look.
My knock-off tennis shoes look nearly identical to the most popular name brand.
The majority of my clothes are close-enough dupes, and no one can ever tell.
Clients want me to look the part, and I always wear what’s required to the intake meeting so they know what to expect on the day of the job. Each time I exit the dressing room in our office looking like a new person, Romy lovingly decrees me “Real-life Barbie.”
When I push open the door, the gym looks nice and newly renovated. The smoothie shop owner, Kevin, mentioned that Healthtopia is just off Globe Fitness’s main lobby, so I don’t need to check in with an ID. I head that way, passing giant motivational posters on the walls.
Sweat now. Shine later.
Train until your body’s insane.
Strength (/streNG(k)TH/) noun. Power. Force. YOU.
I roll my eyes. The last one came straight from a thesaurus.
Healthtopia feels much more welcoming. The walls have a neon pink swirl design on them, and the chairs are an eclectic collection of bright colors.
I don’t see Kevin, but a tall man stands at the counter with his back to me.
He’s wearing a short sleeve polo, giving me a view of his defined arm muscles.
This shop isn’t open yet, so I wonder if he’s lost.
Should I go back to the lobby and call Kevin? The thought of being completely alone with a man I don’t know sends a shiver down my spine, and—
I cut that train of thought off.
Because I do know this man. Kind of.
When he turns to the side, I realize I’ve seen that thick, wavy auburn hair before. The scattered freckles dotting his cheek. The strong jawline.
And as soon as he fully faces me, I refamiliarize myself with his chin dimple.
He blinks at me incredulously, like he can’t believe I’m real. “You. You’re… here.”
My lips curl into a grin. “Where’s your gadget, Inspector?”
His brows furrow. “My… Are you talking about my thermocouple thermometer?”
I shrug. “Sure. If that’s what we’re calling it.”
His eyes scan the perimeter of Healthtopia. “They don’t sell cooked meat here. This is a smoothie shop inside a gym.”
“Why are you in your health inspecting costume then?”
He glances at his khakis and white polo and back at me. Then, he looks down again, as if to double check I haven’t magically replaced his clothes with a purple Joker suit.
“I’m doing a favor for a family friend. The owner asked my dad if I’d take a look at their operations prior to opening day to make sure nothing’s in violation.”
“Very altruistic of you, Officer.” I can’t resist adding the moniker on, just to see his reaction.
“Not this again,” he mutters, looking so ruffled.
I bite my lip to prevent a smile at his restrained confusion. Sliding into a seat at the first table near the counter, I pull a tablet out of my gym bag.