Chapter 55
The Great Almost-Brawl
Tessa
In the coffee shop's back room, Franny's announcement had me reeling. A brawl? At the bike shop?
Stupefied, I said, "Wait…you don't mean Maisie's bike shop?"
"Of course I mean Maisie's," she said. "You think I'd be rushing over here if it was a different one?"
"Actually, I don't know," I confessed as panic rose in my throat. "What kind of brawl?"
Her tone grew ominous. "The kind with men squaring off."
Good Lord. "How many?"
Franny let my question hang for a long, terrible moment before giving up the number. "Two."
I froze. "Wait…did you say…two?"
She gave me a funny look. "Yeah, is that a problem?"
"Not really, but, well…it's just that when I picture a brawl, there's always a lot more people."
Franny blinked, looking baffled. "How many more?"
"I dunno. Maybe four or five at least?"
"Well, there were four people. But the other two were girls." She paused, as if thinking. "And now that you mention it…they did look ready to go at it."
I wasn't liking the sounds of that. "Do you know who they were?"
"Well…one of them was Maisie."
My stomach dropped. "So Maisie was brawling?"
"Almost brawling," she corrected. "You did hear me, right?"
By now, I hardly knew what I was hearing. "So…only the guys were brawling?"
"See, that's the thing." Franny gave a little wince. "They weren't really punching each other, but I could tell they wanted to."
What the heck? "So…technically, nobody was brawling?"
"Well, not when you put it that way. But there was an incident."
The downgrade from brawl to incident should've made me feel better. And it did. Sort of. But I was still desperate to learn more. "So, this incident – you saw it yourself? Were you actually there?"
"Not there-there," she admitted. "I was sitting in the café across the street. You know the one, right?"
When I nodded, Franny leaned closer to say, "I had a prime window seat. And a turkey melt, in case you're curious."
I was curious, but not about the sandwich. I'd been inside Maisie's shop exactly once – when she'd graciously given me a bike to use. Since then, I'd stuck to the outside – biking and walking past several times a week on my way to wherever.
But I could picture it just fine. It did have that big front window, one that would give anybody on the sidewalk a decent view of whatever was going on inside.
Would this also apply to somebody watching from inside the café across the street?
I was still trying to decide when Franny said, "What, you don't believe me?"
I believed she'd seen something, but it could've been a basic meet-and-greet for all I knew. "I'm just trying to understand, that's all. Maybe you could start from the beginning?"
"Well…I'm sitting at the café like I said, and I'm watching the people on the street, you know? And I see this fancy-pants couple walk into the bike shop like they own the place. But when Maisie sees them, she freezes like a deer in headlights."
I could practically see it. "So she was nervous?"
"No. Nauseated. Like she was gonna lose her lunch all over that blonde bimbo's shoes."
Okay, now that was an image I hadn't needed. And this was the first time Franny had mentioned a bimbo. Being of the blonde persuasion myself, I wasn't quite sure how I felt about it. All my life, I'd never heard the term brunette bimbo applied to anyone, not even once.
It seemed pretty unfair, actually. But that was something to dwell on later. "So…who were these people?"
"I don't know for sure," Franny said. "But it looked to me like the guy was Maisie's ex."
"Why do you say that?"
"Honey, I know an ex when I see 'em. And even if I didn't, the look on Maisie's face was a dead giveaway."
"And the girl?"
"Oh, she was nothing but trouble. I could smell the drama all the way across the street – and through a pile of horse poop, too."
If it had been me, I probably would've said I could smell it through the scent of fudge, but I wasn't about to quibble. "But you think Maisie knew her?"
Franny gave a solemn nod. "Knew her and hated her."
"So…they were yelling or something?"
"No. It was worse. They were smiling, but in that murder-you-later kind of way."
Yikes. "I know that look," I said, thinking of my mom, who'd perfected it years ago, mostly on my dad, whenever he hinted that she had plenty of clothes in her closet already. "So then what happened?"
"So they're talking back and forth – except the guy's not saying anything. But then, Griff – you know, Maisie's new mechanic with all those muscles?"
I nodded. "Yeah?"
"He charges out of the back room looking mad as heck." Her voice picked up steam. "And he yanks Maisie to his side like he's Tarzan or something."
That stopped me cold. "Wait…so you're saying, he grabbed her?"
"Grabbed, yanked, whatever..."
"And Maisie looked okay with that?"
"Well…I didn't hear her scream for help, if that's what you're wondering. But that other couple – they looked mad enough to spit nails…except they were trying to hide it." She gave me a significant look. "Anyway…that's when Griff almost punched him."
"You mean…like he started and stopped short?"
"No, like he was already punching him, but only in his mind." She perked up. "He still made a fist, though. If you ask me, he was a split second away from popping the guy."
"But he didn't?"
Franny deflated. "Nah. It was a big fat nothing, like I said."
So now it was nothing? Words utterly failed as I considered how much the story had changed from the beginning.
And Franny wasn't even done. "But I could tell they wanted something to happen. Well, except for Maisie. She looked like she wanted to vanish."
Oh, gosh. Regardless of whatever else was going on, that sounded terrible. It was exactly how I'd felt in Chicago after my presentation had gone off the rails.
But instead of disappearing, I'd gone hog wild, making a ridiculous spectacle of myself.
And then, I'd disappeared.
I was still thinking of my own sorry performance when Franny added, "And then, blondie and the ex run screaming out of the shop like Griff pulled out a butcher knife."
I gave a little start. "As in literal screaming? Like…you actually heard them?"
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "Not with two windows between us."
I tried to think. Two windows. Obviously, she meant one at the café and another at the bike shop. Between those windows, there would've been a whole street filled with people, horses, and bikes.
I was still mapping it out when Franny added, "But I'm pretty sure they were screaming. Or at least she was." Franny went quiet for a second. "Or she could've been yelling at her guy. She looked like a real harridan."
I didn't even know what that was, so I considered what I did know. There was no brawl. There was no punching. And the screaming part was debatable.
Beyond confused, I asked, "Anything else?"
"Nothing but the swooning."
"Wait...somebody swooned?"
Her eyes brightened. "Yeah. Maisie."
"You mean…she passed out?"
"No," Franny said as if the idea was ridiculous. "I mean she went all googly-eyed and leaned into Griff like he was her knight in shining armor."
Now, I hardly knew what to say. "Wow, that's quite a story."
"You're telling me," she said. "So, what do you think?"
Mostly, I thought I'd need to get the full story from Maisie, because Franny's version sounded like a game of gossip gone feral. "I guess I'm just, uh…relieved no one was actually punched."
"I'm not," Franny said, looking disgruntled. "That guy – Maisie's ex – probably needed a good pop in the kisser for bothering Maisie at work." She brightened. "But anyway…I sold your earrings."
Whoa. Talk about whiplash. "Seriously?"
"Yup. Got the cash right here." She dug into her tote bag and pulled out a wad of bills. "Got a good price for them, too."
I stared at the money. "But wait…they paid you without getting the earrings first?"
"Of course they paid me," she said, sounding a little insulted. "I've got a reputation. They know I'll make good on it."
Small town or not, I couldn't imagine anyone being so trusting. "But they didn't even want to look at them?" After deciding to sell them, I hadn't been wearing them at all. Instead, I'd been keeping them in an envelope in my pocket.
"Of course they looked," she said. "You sent me the pictures, remember? I printed them out and everything. And in color, too."
As I handed over the envelope, I asked, "So who bought them?"
"Sorry, that's confidential."
"But why?"
That earned me a look. "Tell me something. Would you like people to know that your sapphire earrings were bought secondhand in a backroom deal?"
She made it sound almost sinister, but I got what she meant. "I guess not," I admitted, leafing through the bills. My pulse quickened as I kept on leafing. By text, I'd told Franny I was hoping to get a few hundred dollars. But now, in my hot little hands, I had a full thousand.
I looked back to Franny. "But they overpaid."
"Or maybe I got you a good deal. You're not complaining, are you?"
"No. Of course not." How could I ever complain? Thanks to Franny, I now had money to pay Maisie the rent and stock up on groceries. I smiled with relief. "But I'm sure I owe you for the printing – and for a commission, right?"
"Oh, you owe me, but not money." Again, she leaned forward. "I want something else."
"Like what?"
"The full scoop." She lowered her voice. "A little birdie told me that you and that VIP Ryder Vaughn were running away from the fort, like it was about to get bombed. What's that about?"