Chapter 11
The next morning, I feel like a new person. Kind of. At least a person who’s not hungover.
And what’s even better, Cactus and I manage to run for more than just five minutes.
At least six before she decides to stop and smell something.
I long for a good run, but six minutes is better than nothing, and with a view like this I’m kind of fine with walking, too.
The sky is pearlescent and looks like the inside of a seashell.
I snap a picture and send it to Clara, immediately receiving an almost identical picture back.
By the time we get back to the house, I have another new text. But not from Clara.
Iris: Please, let me buy you an I’m-so-sorry coffee today.
Me: What for?
Iris: Because I got so drunk.
Me: In that case, please let me buy you an I’m-so-sorry coffee, too.
Iris: Why?
Me: Because I got so drunk.
Iris: I was worse.
Me: Don’t think so.
Iris: I stage-dived without an audience.
I hesitate. But he’s probably already made sure the whole town knows about what happened in that restroom, so I might as well just own it.
Me: I puked. More than once . . .
Iris: HAHA, you did?
She didn’t know?
Iris: Let’s buy each other coffee.
Me: Deal.
Iris: Are you busy now?
Me: Just need a shower!
Iris: Gertrude’s in an hour?
Me: Perfect.
I shower quickly and then bribe Cactus to follow me. She’s such a candy girl and man, how I relate.
We walk because I need to learn my way around here, so I never risk ending up in an idiotic man’s car again. Aggressive raccoons or not, next time I’ll walk. In the right direction.
Iris is already there when I arrive. Her hair is loose and naturally curly. I love it. I can’t even remember the last time I let my hair hang free, I always wear a ponytail or a bun.
She hugs both me and Cactus before we order and sit outside. We talk about the night at Lost & Found, and Iris tells me her friends really liked me. I’m not blushing—you are.
“Austin has asked about you several times,” she says while stirring the foam around in her cappuccino. “He thinks he’s smooth, but he really isn’t. He likes you.”
“Really?” I say in surprise.
“Really. He’s nice. One of the good ones.”
I nod, not knowing what to say. I can’t recall how Austin looked. The only person popping up in my head is an annoying veterinarian. I think that’s why the next question spills out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“Is Audrey never with Benjamin when he’s at Lost & Found?”
Iris looks puzzled as she peeks up from her giant cup. “Benjamin Reyes? No, why would she?”
“Because it’s fun?”
“I don’t think she thinks that.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know? Do they like bars?”
“Um . . .”
“I think the music is too loud for her.”
“Does she have sensitive ears or something?”
Iris looks surprised. “Don’t they all?”
I frown. “I don’t know? I don’t think so.”
Iris gives Cactus a thoughtful glance where she’s lying in the shade next to my chair. Gertrude, the cute owner, brought a bowl of water for her when she came out with our order.
“Wow, I thought they did.”
I feel confused. Am I missing something here? Is this a Pearlband Beach thing? I open my mouth to ask when her phone starts buzzing on the table between us. She peers at it hastily.
“Sorry, is it okay if I take this? It’s a client. It’ll be quick, we have to confirm a time for a lesson,” she asks apologetically, her finger hovering over the phone.
“Of course.”
The call is over within twenty seconds and that’s all it takes for me to forget about the thing I wanted to ask her. Instead, she starts telling me about a new book that got her out of a reading slump—a new Tessa Bailey novel from the local bookstore—and then none of us can stop talking.
I can’t remember the last time I had a coffee with a friend. It feels nice. I really like Iris. She’s funny and smart, and she makes me laugh in a way that usually only Clara can.
She tells me passionately about her job, both as a teacher and as a surf instructor.
There’s no doubt she loves it. Her eyes light up, and her hand gestures get more eager.
And weirdly, I find myself envying her. Envy her passion.
Which makes no sense because I’ve always loved my job.
I’m doing what I’ve always dreamed of, so why do I feel jealous of Iris?
When we say goodbye, I decide to take a walk through town and follow the beach home.
Almost everyone we meet greets Cactus with a knowing smile and then nods politely at me.
They all seem to know her. And she wags her tail and lets them pet her.
She never wags her tail when we’re alone, and I have to suppress an eyeroll and only whisper, “Ass-kisser,” when we’re out of anyone’s earshot.
Suddenly, I spot the pink house where Iris’s aunt has her shop and decide to go in.
I’ve always felt a connection to stores like this.
It was, after all, one of those that got me to where I am today.
I started working in a small clothing store in my hometown and realized I wanted a career in the fashion industry.
Viv welcomes me with a smile. “Oh, June, right?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think I introduced myself properly last time we met.” I offer her my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest. I’m Viv.” Her blue eyes land on Cactus. “And aren’t you just the sweetest? Hey, sugar.” She beams, squatting in front of Cactus and letting her lick her whole face.
Yuck, I just saw Cactus lick her own . . . Well, never mind. Just, yuck. And what Viv doesn’t know doesn’t kill her, right?
Just like last time, I can’t help but notice what a pretty store this is. Besides the dark, wide-plank flooring and the large, beautiful storefront window, it has a certain kind of atmosphere that makes you want to stay.
And as always, I can’t enter a place like this without my work-brain switching on. It’s like a disease I have. I can’t help it. And what I notice is that Viv has great pieces, but they aren’t really seasonal. It’s seventy-seven degrees outside today, not the weather to be selling faux furs in.
The other two customers leave empty-handed and once we’re alone, Viv lets out a loud sigh.
“Well, that was probably the thirtieth person who left without buying anything today. It’s hard to compete with all the online shops, plus people are so used to shopping on discount that they won’t pay full price. ”
I dip my chin thoughtfully. She’s partly right.
People are used to sales and discounts today, but with the right products, I know they’re willing to pay full price.
But the product selection must be right.
And it isn’t right in this store, which is unfortunate because it has all the potential.
This town actually has it all: locals and tourists.
The buyers are here—she just needs to catch them.
“Please tell me if you think I’m rude or crossing a line, but have you considered offering a more seasonal-based collection?”
“You’re not rude and, no, I haven’t. I usually buy what I think is pretty.”
“I see,” I say and nod slowly. “Again, I hope you don’t think I’m being rude, but I think you should consider it.
You have a beautiful store, and you clearly have potential customers.
Everyone who walks through that door is willing to spend their money here—you just have to reel them in.
I assume it’s mostly tourists here now, and they’re on vacation so they’re probably looking for something to wear on their holiday.
Maybe you should consider some dresses and skirts? ”
Viv just stares at me, and I feel a cold shiver down my back.
“Shit, I’m too outspoken sometimes. I’m so sorry. I love your store. And I love your clothes, it's just that—”
She cuts me off with a snort and a wave of her hand. “Honey, it takes a little more to offend me. You know your stuff. You know what you’re talking about. Why is that?”
I blush, embarrassed. I think I crossed a line. I’m too straightforward when it comes to my job. “This is what I do for a living. I’m a fashion buyer.”
A hint of a smile curves Viv’s lips. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Your impeccable sense of style.” I start to protest. “Honey, this street’s never seen shoes like that before,” she says and gives my limited-edition Chanel flats a pointed look.
I start to protest again, but Viv doesn’t give a damn.
“That’s a fact, sweetie. Don’t argue with me on that.”
I close my mouth, unwillingly.
“So, what do you think I should do?”
“With . . . ?”
Viv throws her arms out. “With the store, of course. How can I increase my profits?”
Am I horny? This kind of talk feels like dirty talk in my work-damaged ears. “You must identify your target group.”
“What do you think my target group is?”
I hesitate before I answer. I don’t want it to seem like I’ve already been giving this a thought.
But I have.
Of course I have. It’s just how I function.
I take a deep breath. “Women between twenty-five and fifty-five. It’s a pretty big range, and that’s an advantage.
They’re looking for trendy fashion but not high-end.
Right now, they’re looking for ways to make their summer wardrobe pop. Colors—pink, green, orange.”
She studies me. “You’re good.”
“Nah, this is what I’m trained to do,” I say with a shrug.
“You’re good,” she repeats.
There’s something about Viv that gives massive alpha vibes. Maybe it’s the blonde hair and the eyes accentuated with black eyeliner or the look on her face that says she doesn’t give a flying monkey. I like her.
And I like a striped, knitted sweater enough to buy it.
“You’re not buying this in some kind of charity act, are you?” she asks with a sharp look.
“Not my style,” I say and mean it.
“Good. Because it’s not mine either.”