Chapter 20
Zoey
Zoey’s phone buzzed with the alarm tone she’d changed three times over the past year after it had started evoking a reptilian fear response.
‘Urgh,’ she grumbled, smooshing her face into her pillow. No wait, not her pillow. Nick.
‘Hey, babe.’ He looked over at her, amused. Alice, meanwhile, jabbed a wet nose at Zoey’s side, tail whacking the bed.
Zoey shut off the phone alarm, then smooshed back into Nick’s bare chest, giving Alice a pat at the same time. ‘How do you look so good in the morning? It’s not fair.’
‘You look perfectly cute. Like a sleepy raccoon.’
She bopped him on the arm. ‘Rude. It’s not my fault I was otherwise occupied and didn’t have time to remove my eye makeup.’
‘Exhaustion from prolonged physical exertion will do that.’
Zoey raised an eyebrow. ‘Did I sleepwalk up Mount Tabor last night? Because I don’t recall that.’
‘Cruel. Frog and Toad banner outside her door aside, she’s a cruel woman.’
Zoey touched the newly healed tattoo on Nick’s wrist. ‘I must not be a true fan. I don’t even bundle up cookies in a basket and call it self-control. I just eat them.’
‘Spoken like a true Toad.’
‘I am definitely a true Toad.’ She sighed, forcing herself to pull away from him. ‘Okay, smoothie shop calls. Those fruits won’t blend themselves.’
‘And think of all the new customers you’ll have today after the freebies we handed out yesterday. They’ll be busting the door down.’
‘A business owner can dream.’
‘But first …’ He pulled her back over. ‘Do we have time before you go?’
Zoey grinned as she straddled him. ‘I set my alarm half an hour early for a reason. Alice, look away.’
‘I’ll see you tonight? My sisters are stoked to finally meet you.
’ Nick tucked a strand of hair behind Zoey’s ear, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners the way they always did when he stared down at her.
She loved that he loved what he saw. Even if what he saw was bedhead, smudged mascara and a light dusting of sleep-induced cheek drool.
Especially if that was what he saw. The man had terrible close vision, but excellent taste.
And very sexy reading glasses, so no complaints at all, really.
‘You’ve been singing my praises, hmm?’
‘You know I don’t sing,’ huffed Zoey.
‘Not even “Come On Eileen”?’ Nick feigned being shot through the heart. ‘I almost broke it out at the slam-poetry night, what with the way they were laying down those monotone beats.’
He shook his head at the memory.
‘All right, let’s do the thing where we’re responsible adults.’ With a big sigh that mimicked the one that Alice had just unleashed, he hauled himself out of bed. ‘I’ve gotta get to the market early, or your Punk Broc guy is going to take my spot.’
Zoey gasped in indignation. ‘Kenard would never!’
‘No, you’re right. It’s always that blonde girl with the lentils Aurora? Aura? Audiophile? Something like that. I just didn’t want to make you jealous.’
‘I don’t get jealous. I’m extremely grounded. Although if you dare sell my mushrooms to anyone else …’
Nick held up his hands in surrender. ‘Wow, she means business. I have your flyers. I promise to direct any thirsty mushroom lovers your way.’
‘That’s my guy.’
At the threshold of the sharehouse, Zoey stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.
They still hadn’t quite figured out how to manage the height difference, although it only really mattered when they were vertically oriented.
And besides, there was always a mossy step or a large rock or a functional sculpture nearby.
Or Nick could do the Bambi thing with his legs that cracked her up.
Their kiss was the mix of sweet and fiery that she adored. She still hadn’t devised a word for it – what was the spicy equivalent of umami? There was definitely a restaurant critic for Eater Portland who’d stolen a good term from German. She’d have to google it.
Alice barked a reminder from over by the truck.
‘Sorry, Alice,’ Nick and Zoey said simultaneously, wistfully breaking up the kiss.
‘We’ll revisit that later,’ promised Zoey.
‘Circle back,’ agreed Nick.
‘Touch base again.’
Nick grinned mischievously. ‘Which base?’
Nick slowly pulled out, on his way down to the waterfront market, and Zoey floated down to the smoothie shop, escorted by the rather delightful feeling of being on Cloud Nine. And by a family of black-headed chickadees who tweeted in her wake like cartoon helpers.
The scooter-house collection was now up to a solid eight, which meant that a free dinner at Lardo was within reach.
Especially now that Ainsley’s fortunes had changed somewhat in the wake of her reunion with Celeste, not to mention Celeste’s life-changing Spirit Airlines music-licensing deal.
Ainsley had spent a few nights over at the new loft apartment and had come back whispering reverently about package-handling and a doorman.
Not to mention being within walking distance to two James Beard–awarded restaurants.
Zoey suspected that some changes to her lease agreement might be in her future.
When the colourful sweep of the Belmont Street shops came into view, Zoey boggled. The entire population of Portland seemed to have camped out outside. She’d heard of smaller queues for people waiting for Taylor Swift tickets. Or for the new Salt & Straw seasonal flavours.
Was something going on? Had the arcade place purchased a new Zaxxon machine? Had one of the startups-that-were-really-small-businesses in the coworking space gone to IPO? Was someone offering free tattoos?
None of that, as it turned out. Or possibly some of that, but in addition to what else was going on: the smoothie shop had, as of this morning, reached peak virality. Literally hundreds of people stood in line, waiting for the doors to The Smoothie Maven to open.
It was only 6 a.m.! Portland was not a city of morning people.
All right, so there were some strange, off-kilter types who’d moved here from other, faster-paced places that prided themselves on grind culture.
The vast majority of those were probably still up from the night before.
But that left a large group of people who’d climbed out of bed at well before the double digits to purchase smoothies from her shop.
Although judging from the slightly off-colour look of some of those waiting in line, perhaps they were simply up from the night before. Or the one before that. Or they were here on their homeopath’s orders.
Or, she thought, swallowing, they actually were zombies. Some of them, anyway.
No, Zoey, you’re just letting Reba get in your head. Something’s going on, but it’s not that.
Zoey waved awkwardly as the crowd’s interest slowly turned towards her. A few phones trained upon her as the occasional influencer revealed themselves among the crowd. (This never took long. Like half-marathoners and CTOs and unicyclists, influencers were quick to identify themselves.)
Zoey let herself in through the side gate, traipsing over the small patio area – which now held delicious memories of her dates with Nick – and entering through the back entrance.
Everything was still locked up, which meant that Terriffany hadn’t shown up yet.
That said, Terriffany had mentioned something about trying polyphasic sleep like one of her favourite cofounders. She was probably just still in bed.
Having switched on the machines and pulled out the chilled fruit from the refrigerators, setting them in their display cases, Zoey went to unlock the front doors.
The crowd surged in, demanding smoothies at a rate that Zoey hadn’t anticipated.
This was serious business. Zoey raced back and forth taking orders and hurling vegetables into the blender jugs.
Her Vitamixes whirred with enough energy to power a small city.
Maybe not Portland, but probably Eugene. Definitely Corvallis.
Of all the days for Terriffany to be running late.
The urge to hide under the counter was growing stronger by the second.
Especially when a pair of red polka-dot Keds darkened the door.
Well, brightened it, she supposed. It was Nestor and Sascha from across the street.
Sascha looked as though she were here thoroughly against her will – she’d had a few weeks of being unencumbered by her cloying coworker, but alas, that carefree era of her life was now over.
‘Zoey, oh my God, I can’t believe we got in!
’ crowed Nestor, grabbing the highly unenthusiastic Sascha by the elbow and angling her towards the counter.
‘It’s absolutely packed in here. Talk about a viral moment.
Are you going to expand? I see you took our recommendations about the Erewhon prices. Look at you go!’
Terriffany had made the case for those, and given the intimidating Excel spreadsheet she’d presented and the small-batch nature of the mushrooms, Zoey had decided not to argue.
‘Glad you’re feeling better,’ said Zoey, whipping him up a Brain Freeze smoothie. (He’d been ‘dying, oh my God, just dying’ for one.)
‘I preferred him when he was roaming the streets digging through dumpsters,’ muttered Sascha. ‘Just a Matcha Do About Nothing for me, thanks.’
‘I am doing better,’ said Nestor, eyes wide with delight.
‘I think I was just overworked from pulling too many late nights on my prototype, but we’ve all been there, I’m sure.
Anyway, that little tattoo jab must have snapped me out of it – I’ve always been terrified of needles.
What a way to break a productivity-induced fever, hmm?
I even went and got a tattoo at Inkstigators later that day. ’
He opened his shirt to reveal, emblazoned over his heart, his company logo.
‘Joaquin was so great about it, and so thoughtful,’ said Nestor. ‘They even confirmed three times that this was my ideal design and offered alternatives. But you know me: once a brilliant idea strikes, there’s no backing down.’