Chapter Sixteen
“They’re really boycotting us.” Donovan sank back in his desk chair, shaking his head, his logical side clearly unable to accept such a predicament. “We’ve been a part of this community for close to a decade.”
“They don’t care,” August said. He understood his best friend’s confusion, but he’d had a few hours to adjust to the idea that opening a second location wasn’t going to be smooth sailing like they’d planned.
They’d gathered at the original Sugar Blitz store to discuss the tenuous situation. Something needed to be done, and soon, before the Three Musketeers garnered any more attention and turned the situation into a real shitshow. He’d hoped that they only planned to picket for one day. He’d swiftly realized the error of his ways when he showed up to work that morning.
Hence, this meeting.
“Yeah, they said something about not caring about football. It’s a violent sport that offers nothing positive to society and drains taxpayers’ money by forcing hardworking citizens to pay for billionaires’ fancy stadiums,” Sloane added.
Donovan shot his sister a look. “Thanks, Sloane.”
She shrugged. “I’m just repeating what they said as I walked by this morning. I did speak in your defense.”
“And?”
“They didn’t… care,” she answered, her nose wrinkling. It was cute. Everything she did was cute. He needed help. Like now. There was never going to be a Sloane and him. The sooner he accepted that the better.
“That’s because they haven’t met me yet,” Nicholas said.
August didn’t bother rolling his eyes. Nicholas was always going to be Nicholas. He expected nothing less. Beside him, Sloane snorted.
“What a brilliant suggestion,” Donovan said, the words dripping with sarcasm.
August froze. Because he always seemed to have his eyes on her, he saw the exact instant that the same realization dawned on Sloane.
She snapped her fingers. “You know what? That is a brilliant suggestion!”
“What is?” Donovan asked. “Letting him work that questionable Nicholas Connors charm on some elderly folks who can see bullshit coming a mile away?”
“Hey, I will have you know my bullshit is worth a million bucks and it smells nice,” Nicholas said, pressing a hand to his chest in affront.
This time, August joined Donovan in a groan, while Sloane rolled her eyes.
“No, you fool,” Sloane said. “We need to hold a town hall. Get ahead of the story and narrative. They caught us flat-footed. We can’t allow it to happen again. We need to show them that y’all are on the residents’ side.”
August nodded, completely on board with the idea and pleased that they were on the same page, but also determined not to make more of it than that.
She turned to him. “You’ll have to be there, August. You’re the one they know. And sorry, you might have to speak.”
Wait. What? That was not part of his plan.
“All three of you will charm them naturally,” she continued.
Donovan smiled. “It’s perfect.”
“Yes, that will be perfect,” Nicholas said. “We gotchu, August.”
August wasn’t so sure.
August sat quietly in a squeaky folding chair on a mini-stage they’d set up in Sugar Blitz Two along with rows of folding chairs for their expected audience. Good thing he wasn’t known for talking. His throat had dried up as nerves sank their claws into him. At first, he’d been somewhat okay. Only a few people had trickled into the shop, and he’d thought that maybe the threat of a boycott was overblown. Foolish, foolish thought.
As the clock on the far wall ticked closer to seven, the trickle turned into a stream, then a damn downpour. Now the room was standing room only. Which would be great if they were open for business, but nope, they were here to convince these fine folks of San Diego that they weren’t here to ruin their neighborhood. Apparently, Sloane’s social media efforts were paying off. She’d posted the meeting on all their social media channels, sent out an email blast to their customers and local media outlets, handed out flyers to the protesters, and hung more flyers in the storefront windows of other businesses on the street.
He couldn’t blame the residents for showing up. Gentrification rarely, if ever, benefited the residents who made their home there before the “updating.”
Yes, they’d sunk a lot of money into this enterprise, but it was more than that. He’d seen the good their first location had done, bringing together neighbors and fostering a sense of community. He had no doubt they could do the same thing here.
Donovan stood at the corner of the stage reviewing his notes, while Nicholas worked the crowd. Cynthia Franklin might not care about football, but she didn’t speak for everyone. Plenty of people in the crowd were happy to take selfies with San Diego’s star running back. Hopefully, they would be open-minded about the new location.
Jada, Donovan’s fiancée, approached him. “Hey, August. You ready?”
She owned an event-planning business and had handled all the nitty-gritty details of setting up the town hall. She’d been moving throughout the room, directing traffic and marking things off on the very official clipboard she carried. She was in her element. That made one of them.
August sighed. “I guess.”
She offered up a sympathetic smile. “I have faith in you. We all do. Just be yourself.” The walkie-talkie clipped to her waist buzzed. “Sorry. Duty calls.”
August nodded. “No worries.”
She hurried away and he went back to concentrating on trying not to sweat through his clothes. He was unsuccessful.
“Hey, aren’t you August?”
He looked up. A pretty woman, in her mid-to-late twenties, stood before him. He nodded. “Yes.”
She slowly looked him up and down, missing absolutely nothing in her perusal, like he was a prize cow at an auction. “I’m so happy I came tonight. Your photos don’t do you justice. At all. You are way finer in person.”
His eyes skidded to Sloane, who was only a few feet away. Undoubtedly, she’d heard. She didn’t react, however. Her head remained buried in her clipboard, though he knew she’d worked closely with Jada and planned for everything, including any potential deviations from the plan. Why would she react? They were nothing.
The woman cleared her throat, bringing his attention back to her. “Umm, thanks.”
The woman’s smile spread wider. She sidled closer, licking her lips. “What do you think about getting together after this meeting?”
Sloane stepped up to the mic. “Thank you everyone for coming tonight. Let’s get started.”
Grateful for the lifeline, August shrugged. The woman backed away slowly with a flirty wiggle of her fingers. “We’ll talk after the meeting.”
August pushed his lips upward, hoping it looked like a smile rather than the grimace he had a bad feeling it resembled.
“I’m Sloane Dell,” the social media guru continued. She wore a lightweight red sweater and black slacks that skimmed her curves, which only served to make him want to burrow underneath to discover her hidden treasures.
“We don’t care. We want to hear from him,” someone in the crowd yelled out, pointing at August.
“Yeah, SugarBae, show us what you got!” another audience member called out.
Fuck. That was not what this meeting was supposed to be about.
It was na?ve of him, and he tried his damnedest to never be na?ve. Life had taught him how foolish that was, but he’d hoped the SugarBae thing would die a swift death. Apparently not. Heat swamped his face and tied his tongue into knots. He wasn’t supposed to let them see him sweat, according to Sloane, but this was already a disaster. His supposed best friends, Donovan and Nicholas, were too busy chuckling to offer him any sympathy.
“You’ll be hearing from all three owners of Sugar Blitz, don’t worry, but we called this meeting specifically to discuss the opposition to our newest location.” Sloane, the consummate pro, took control of the situation. It was incredibly sexy. Which was incredibly unimportant.
Thankfully, the crowd subsided.
“I hope you’ll indulge us and let the owners talk about their background and what they envision for the store, then we’ll open the mic for any comments or questions. Sound okay?” she asked in a charming voice. The audience responded with nods and even a few smiles. Yeah, she was good at this. “First, we’ll start with Donovan Dell.”
Donovan rose and gave a short speech about the first shop’s economic impact on the neighborhood, and how it had become a gathering spot for locals looking for cupcakes and community.
August looked out into the crowd. A few people seemed to be taking Donovan at his word, but more than a few looked skeptical. They’d decided to go with Nicholas next after Donovan’s facts, to hit the crowd with some fun. People, especially heterosexual women, were extremely susceptible to his charm.
Nicholas took his place at the mic and offered up the smile that had several audience members gasping and covering their hearts. “Thank y’all for coming. I want to tell y’all a story about why we chose this location. I’ve been volunteering with the Boys and Girls Club and I drive through the neighborhood often. I love the vibe here. Neighbors and friends looking out for each other. When I saw that the building was up for sale, I knew this was the spot for our next location.”
A true story. A few more people seemed interested and willing to listen. The crowd looked to him next, but it wasn’t his turn yet, thank God.
“Before August speaks, we’ll open the floor for questions,” Sloane said.
Cynthia’s hand shot up in the air. “You talked all that good talk,” she said without waiting to be called on. “But you still ain’t from around here.”
“No, we’re not, but we’ve all come to view San Diego as our home and want to see it thrive just as much as all of you,” Donovan said.
Cynthia sniffed. “That’s all good, but you’re still making too many changes. Making stuff too fancy.”
“There used to be a restaurant in this space,” Rosa called out.
August nodded, along with Donovan and Nicholas.
“We heard you drove them out of business, so they’d be forced to sell.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard too,” someone August recognized as a picketer said.
Several gasps lit up the store. Chants rang out. “No, no. We won’t go. We don’t want yo’ sto’.” Soon, others joined in the chant.
August winced. Damn, he hadn’t realized the place had such excellent acoustics. He exchanged looks with Nicholas. It didn’t take much to read the “fuck” Nicholas muttered.
“Hey, hey.” Donovan returned to the mic and held up his hands to get the angry crowd’s attention.
Someone pointed at August. “We want to hear from him, since he always has something to say.”
Always? Dear Lord, his outburst from the other day was the gift that kept on giving. He, who only liked to talk when required, now had a reputation as a jabbermouth. If it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing, it would be funny. He glared at Donovan and Nicholas, whose shoulders were shaking. What was his life?
Sloane gestured for him to stand. “August, would you like to join me?”
He reluctantly lumbered to his feet. A cheer rose from the back of the room. “SugarBae, SugarBae!” chants rose up. Were these excited chants better than the get-out chants? Before he could decide, Sloane spoke. “August, would you like to address the concern that you drove the last owners out of business, forcing them to sell?”
He fought the urge to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s not true.”
Sloane stared at him expectantly.
What? What else needed to be said?
Someone in the audience cleared their throat. Someone else shifted in their seat. Fuck. They expected him to say more. After all, he was the wordsmith who’d read those boys for filth. Shit. This was just like the morning-show interview from hell.
Sloane’s eyes softened, as though she sensed his plight. “That’s right. You know why I know it’s not true? Because this building used to be a Mexican spot.” She spoke to the audience. “And I have it on good authority that Mexican is your favorite, and you’d never be party to shutting down such an establishment.”
Her comment prompted a few chuckles from the audience. His lips twitched. She’d always kidded him about his affinity for Taco Bell, despite being born and raised in San Jose and having tons of MexiCali options at his disposal.
“This is true.” He spoke into the mic when she gestured for him to move closer.
“So why don’t you tell everyone here the true story?” She spoke directly to him, keeping his focus on her, not giving him the op portunity to freak out because everyone was staring at him. August’s anxiety immediately calmed. Though they were in a room full of people, it felt like it was just the two of them, just like it had been all those years ago when they talked on the phone.
August gazed into her beautiful, understanding eyes. “When we talked to the real estate agent, she told us the previous restaurant owners had fallen behind on the rent, so they had to close the restaurant.”
“You didn’t force them out of business.” Her voice was steady. Sure. She believed in him.
He shook his head. “No, we would never do that. They were already closed by the time we expressed interest.”
“Barbara and Raul would have told us if they were struggling,” someone in the audience yelled.
Sloane nodded at him. She believed he could handle this, which meant everything. He turned back to the crowd. “Maybe not. I understand pride. We all do, I think. People rarely like to admit when they’re struggling.”
Cynthia shot up from her seat. “That’s all well and good, but we heard you were buying other buildings around here. Is that true?”
August exchanged looks with Nicholas and Donovan. “Uh… yes.”
“See, they are trying to drive us out of here!”
Benjamin and Rosa hopped up. In unison with Cynthia, they chanted, “No, no. We won’t go. We don’t want yo’ sto’!”
The chants jarred Sloane back to reality. And out of the little cocoon that only included her and August she’d inadvertently wrapped herself in.
She swallowed hard as she surveyed the crowd and fought the urge to cover her ears. While some looked on curiously, others joined the chanting.
This was worse than she’d thought. This is what she got for accepting a job before she knew the full parameters of the assignment. She’d obviously known the guys had bought the building for the new location. She hadn’t known they’d bought the whole block. That changed things.
Hell, were they trying some gentrification crap? Ergh. She was going to kill all three of them.
“We won’t do that,” August said in that tone that showed quiet confidence and offered little to no room to argue. When he brought out that authoritative voice, people listened. This time was no different.
Sloane took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to get answers to her questions. Not with an attentive audience hanging on his every word.
She spoke into the microphone. “You’ve heard it right from the horse’s mouth. Sugar Blitz wants to be part of the community, not change it. Thank you all so much for coming. The town hall is now adjourned, but please feel free to stick around and talk to all three owners individually. They’d love to hear from you.”
Despite the protestors’ claims that no one wanted a Sugar Blitz location in their neighborhood, audience members still took the opportunity to get up close and personal with the football-playing owners. While her brother and Nicholas garnered their fair share of requests for selfies and autographs, the attention they commanded was nothing compared to that of August. He seemed to be taking it in stride. Somewhat. He didn’t look completely comfortable, but he was hanging in there. And just because his line was comprised mostly of women batting their eyelashes at him meant nothing. A particularly bold woman invaded his personal space and gave him a bold up-and-down look before whispering in his ear. Sloane’s hand clenched at her side. Okay, mostly nothing. She turned on her heel and headed toward her brother and Jada.
“You and August did good,” Donovan said.
“Yeah, your chemistry was great,” Jada said. “I’m so proud of you,” she added to someone who’d walked up behind Sloane.
Sloane didn’t need to turn around to know that “someone” was August. She could always sense him. Sense when he was within a ten-mile radius of her.
Sloane shrugged away the compliment and its importance. “Must be us spending the past few days together. Gave us enough time to get our routine down. Anyway, we need to talk about their gentrification claims and you owning several buildings on the block. That’s something I needed to know before we called a town hall.”
She shot pointed looks at August and Donovan.
August had the decency to look slightly guilty, at least. Her brother, on the other hand, puffed up his chest and held up a hand. “Now, Sloane.”
Jada groaned. “Wrong answer, honey.”
“Correct.” Sloane tipped her chin in acknowledgment at her sister-in-law-to-be, then turned to glare at Donovan. “Don’t ‘Now, Sloane’ me, big brother.”
“Excuse me?” The woman from earlier, the one who’d stared at August like he was an ice-cream sundae and she had the world’s biggest sweet tooth, stepped into their circle. “You dating him?” She jerked her chin toward August.
“We’re not done discussing this, guys.” Sloane sent another pointed look to each of the Sugar Blitz owners before turning her attention to the newcomer. The urge to lie was strong. Really, really strong. Overwhelming, really. But that made no sense. Because they weren’t dating and weren’t going to date. So she pasted on a smile and said, “Oh, no, we’re not.”
“Good.”
The woman turned her back to Sloane and planted herself directly in front of August.
“That was such a great speech tonight.” She trailed her nails down his bare, muscular arm. “You’re so worthy of the SugarBae title.”
All of a sudden, memories of watching WWE with her older siblings when they were kids washed over Sloane. Jumping off the top rope and tomahawk-chopping this lady seemed like a good idea, for some reason.
“Paige, honey, what are you doing over here?” a woman asked, joining their little circle.
“Oh, Mama, I’m just talking to SugarBae.”
Oh, good Lord. Sloane barely stifled a groan. The day just kept getting better. Mama was Cynthia.