Chapter Twelve
Lissa
Lissa didn’t consider herself a particularly negative person. The last few stressful months aside, she tended toward the more optimistic side of life. But even optimism had its limits, and apparently the limit was Mondays.
Given her ability to make her own schedule, any day of the week should be as pleasant as the next, and yet there was a certain drudgery about Mondays.
There was just something in the air. Maybe it was the increased level of anxiety wafting off the new barista at Mixie’s.
Maybe it was the downturned face of Penny, the studio’s normally perky receptionist. Or maybe it was because this particular Monday included a visit from the corporate asshats who were coming to check on her progress.
It might have helped if she’d prepared for the meeting better. She’d blocked out yesterday as a brainstorming day, convinced that if she locked herself in her cottage and did nothing but focus on the studio, surely she could come up with something to present to the representatives from Art, Inc.
Instead, she spent half the day thinking about that damned kiss and the other half watching old Elixir Enchantress videos on social media.
Ria had made a few new posts about her potion sales, but no new video to help Lissa gauge the witch’s current state of mind after bolting from the bar.
So Lissa settled for going back to the beginning and watching every reel Ria had posted in the last six months.
Not something she was particularly proud of, but she simply couldn’t get the witch out of her mind.
Fuck.
That kiss had been… She felt something pulse in her abdomen at the memory.
Lissa had shared many kisses before with many women, and she did mean many—she’d been extremely free with her affections when she was younger—but nothing had felt as right as the moment her lips brushed against Ria’s.
And the moment Ria opened to her, letting Lissa’s tongue slip in to caress hers?
That was it. Lissa was done for. That kiss had broken her forever.
Never before had she existed within a moment outside of time—a moment reserved just for the two of them and the connection they both clearly felt.
Unfortunately, when someone steps outside of time, the universe tends to get annoyed and thrusts them right back into the flow, tossing a little vomit in so they remember to obey the laws of physics.
Lissa hadn’t even cared about the little oopsie puke.
She’d endured plenty of those with Lexi, and it was basically old hat to her.
You take them to the bathroom, clean them up, rinse out their mouth, take them home, tuck them into bed, and the following morning act like nothing happened so they don’t have to feel awkward. Standard operating procedure.
Ria must not have gotten the manual, though, because she’d raced from the bar faster than a lesbian being hit on by a handsy douche bro. And she hadn’t returned Lissa’s text messages either. How was Lissa supposed to figure out this thing between them when Ria wouldn’t even talk to her?
She needed a chance to reassure the witch she couldn’t care less about the incident.
She should also probably confess she’d met Ria before.
If that kiss told her anything, it was that she couldn’t keep lying.
Lissa would come clean and hope Ria wasn’t too upset.
And if she shared her marketing plan once they cleared the air, all the more bonus.
“Well, you look lost in some pretty deep thoughts for a Monday morning,” Daria remarked, entering the office without knocking and plopping down into her most despised vinyl chair.
Lissa ran a hand through her hair, then shut the laptop. “Yeah, I was just thinking about—”
“Do not say Ria again,” Daria interjected. At Lissa’s lack of denial, she groaned. “Still? Dang, you have it bad for this girl. Don’t get me wrong, I’m rooting for you a hundred percent, but you gotta live your life. She’ll text you back; give it time.”
“I blame you for this, ya know,” Lissa said, folding her arms and glaring at her best friend.
“Moi?” Daria asked with mock surprise. “How could this possibly be my fault?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Lissa replied, tapping a finger to her chin. “Could it be the fact I was willing to let her go, but someone—not naming names or anything—pushed me to see her again despite my reservations? You think maybe that might play a part?”
“Ouch,” Daria said, sliding off her sandals and propping her bare feet on Lissa’s desk.
“You think I wanted my best friend to be so heartbroken she kicked me out of her house to spend the day moping over a girl? I hate seeing you like this, babe. I just wanted you to loosen up and get back out there.”
“Yeah, well I’m loose all right,” Lissa grumbled, shoving Daria’s feet away from her computer. “I’m a full-on ‘floppy noodle in a roiling pot of emotion I didn’t ask for’ level of loose.”
“Well, at least she hasn’t ruined your ability to be dramatic,” Daria shot back.
Lissa glared at her. “Pot, kettle, Daria.”
“Fair enough.”
Sighing, Lissa reopened her laptop, hoping to get some work done before her meeting. “So, did you just come in here to bust my lady balls, or did you need something? I’m assuming at some point you actually plan to do work today? I don’t think glass fuses itself.”
Daria cocked her head thoughtfully. “Actually, that depends on the circumstances.”
“Daria?”
“Hmm?”
“Please get out of my office.”
“Fine, fine,” Daria said, analyzing her perfectly manicured red nails. “I came in to tell you those guys from Art, Inc. are here.”
“What?” Lissa screeched, exploding from her chair. “And you didn’t think to mention that before harassing me about my love life?”
Daria shrugged. “I stand by my priorities.”
“Son of a…” Lissa frantically scanned the office, searching for the blazer she’d purchased specifically for this meeting. Finding it crumpled up in the corner, she shook it out as best as possible and pulled it on over her white tank top. “How do I look?”
Daria pursed her lips for a second, then said, “You look like you slept in this tragic excuse for a chair last night.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Lissa cursed, frantically brushing at the jacket in a useless attempt to smooth it out.
“Would you just go bring them in, please? I’m trying to convince them to give us more time.
I don’t think making them wait in the lobby where Penny is no doubt talking their ear off about her beekeeping hobby is going to help things. ”
“Yikes. You might be right about that,” Daria said, slipping her sandals back on. “I’ll be right back.” She swept out of the room, long black hair swishing wildly, and kicked the door shut behind her.
“I can do this,” Lissa told herself firmly. “Talk about how you’re planning to bring on a couple more artists, and you need a little more time. Nobody can turn a business around in six months. They’ll have to agree.”
“Sorry, but we don’t agree,” the cocky hipster said twenty minutes later, after Lissa finished her presentation.
She blinked at the two representatives sitting across from where she stood, having given up her own chair.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” She glanced back and forth between the two people whose names she’d already forgotten.
Over the past few months she’d communicated with so many different Art, Inc.
reps that they all blended together. She’d been mentally calling the guy “Faux Hawk” because of his hair, and the non-binary one, “Piercings,” given they had more metal than skin visible.
Even Lissa with her Monroe lip stud, double nose ring, and six helix piercings on each side thought it was a bit overkill.
Seriously, how was her fate in the hands of these two?
“I said we don’t agree,” Faux Hawk reiterated even louder, as if volume was the issue.
“The details on how we operate were very clear. We purchase a company and provide management with a cash infusion to turn things around. In return, they hit the breakeven point within six months. You’re over five months into that, and we see no real difference.
You yourself showed us the spreadsheet indicating you’re not yet clearing expenses.
How can we expect you to ever become profitable at this rate?
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Ms. Parker, but your lobby was empty when we came in.
And we imagine it’ll be empty when we leave. ”
“Truth,” Piercings agreed, nodding slowly.
“Come on,” Lissa sputtered, bracing herself on the desk to keep from shaking. “It’s Monday morning. Of course it’s empty. The tourists are all still asleep.”
“Blown Bubbles wasn’t empty when we passed by,” Faux Hawk replied, adjusting his black-rimmed glasses.
Lissa ground her teeth together at the mention of Marge’s studio. Of course her nemesis was busy. She had a sweet location between a crepe restaurant and a boba shop while Smooth Expressions was at the ass end of the main drag between a realtor and an insurance salesman.
“You’re being unreasonable,” Lissa said tightly, doing her best to tamp down the growing anger.
“I can see where you might think that, but your old boss was very much made aware of how we operate when he sold the studio,” Faux Hawk replied. “To speak candidly, he didn’t seem overly concerned about the details so long as he got his money.”
“Truth,” Piercings agreed, once again mimicking a bobblehead with their slow nod.