Chapter Fourteen
ASPEN RAY: Our upcoming Sweet Torture Tour’s sold out!
Thanks to everyone who’s supported the Ungrateful Serpents!
I—What? [Unintelligible background whispers] Why are you shaking your head?
What did I—Oh. I meant thanks to everyone who’s supported the Usual Suspects.
The auto cue had an autocorrection. I’m jet-lagged and just reading off what they wrote, guys, don’t blame me.
We could be the Unsocial Sandwiches right now for all I know.
—Morning Glory AM News transcript
I was in the back parking lot behind The Tiny Tiger, emptying the trash cans, when I spotted Mrs. Dodge—the longtime owner of the yarn shop next door—getting a sign out of the trunk of her car.
I waved hello, but she didn’t see me, so I returned to my chores, setting the trash can in my hands down and picking up the next one.
Thud.
I glanced behind me. The sign now lay face down on the concrete, and Mrs. Dodge stared down at it hesitantly. She shifted her purse to the crook of her other arm and braced her hand on her upper thigh, like she had to prepare herself before kneeling down.
Mrs. Dodge was in her sixties. That was older than Mom, but her stance was one I recognized. Admittedly, before Mom’s car crash, I probably wouldn’t have realized that it might hurt Mrs. Dodge to do something as simple as bend down.
But knowing how Mom struggled after her accident made me realize that sometimes things that would be simple for me weren’t easy for everyone. It made me want to watch the people around me closer, and to be kinder when I could.
“Hi, Mrs. Dodge,” I called out, distracting her before she could bend down.
She stopped in her descent, looking over at me as I approached.
“Oh, hello, Lucy.” She shaded her eyes against the sun to study me. “You look so grown up now.”
“You say that every time you see me. I can’t look any older to you than I did last Monday,” I joked.
“I’ve been running the shop next door since long before your mother moved in and turned that place into The Tiny Tiger,” she chided me. “I even babysat you once or twice while you were still in diapers. I’ve earned the right to think you look older every single week.”
Giving her a sunny smile, I swooped down to pick up the sign for her without asking.
That’s another thing I learned from Mom.
Sometimes people didn’t like to admit they needed help, even when they really did need it.
If you kept things casual, they felt less embarrassed, and were more likely to let you do things for them.
Sometimes I still wondered how much Mom wasn’t telling me. Were there signs I missed every day?
“It’s really nice out today, isn’t it?” I asked Mrs. Dodge, though I really wasn’t expecting an answer.
I was just chatting so she wouldn’t protest my carrying the sign to the back door for her.
She’d probably stubbornly try to take it back from me like Mom often did with everything, but I knew she’d have to fish around for her keys and this would make things easier for her. “Perfect summer weather.”
“It is,” she replied with a nod. “How’s your mom? I’ve missed seeing her here every day. Is she still on track to recover by the end of the year?”
I pursed my lips together, mentally running over what the doctor said. “She’s supposed to be.”
“But you’re not sure?” Mrs. Dodge prodded, picking up on my hesitant tone.
“It’s okay. Sometimes healing can be tricky.
It took me two months longer to recuperate from my hip surgery than the doctors were expecting, but I recovered and now I’m as right as rain.
These things just take time, it doesn’t mean she’ll be on crutches forever.
” She laid a hand on my arm, making me turn to face her, and she gave me a firm look.
“Just promise me you’ll make sure she’s not running this place alone when you leave for college, okay?
Make sure she has the staff to help so she can take it easy.
She won’t be fully healed when you go. If she pushes her body too far, she could seriously injure herself. Permanently.”
My stomach sank as I heard my fears confirmed aloud. Mom would very likely still need help in the fall.
But if the café kept doing this poorly, she wouldn’t have the money to hire full-time staff.
What would happen if the livestream didn’t work?
When I left? Would Mom lie to me over the phone while I sat in another coffee shop miles away from her, not having a clue that she was straining herself too much?
Would she have to give up the café? Would I leave here one day and never be able to come back?
“She won’t be alone,” I said quietly. “I promise.”
No matter what it took, I’d keep it.
Mrs. Dodge squeezed my arm. “Good girl.”
She unlocked the back door, and I shifted the large sign over in my hands, preparing to set it down, when I caught sight of what was printed on it.
Going out of business! Everything must go!
“You’re closing?” I asked in shock. “But you’ve been here forever. What happened?”
“The landlord raised my rent,” she explained with a tired sigh.
“According to him, a fancy place like Espresso Inc opening up on the corner’s made this little storefront property more ‘valuable,’” she said, putting the last word in air quotes.
“But as valuable as it may be now, I can’t justify paying it.
I’m not getting customers like I used to.
Knitting’s not cool enough anymore to interest the young people in my store.
I don’t make enough to cover staying open. ”
Nerves jumbled around in my stomach. Would the landlord raise our rent too?
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked her quietly, my voice small.
“Oh, honey, I’m going to be fine,” she said, reaching out to touch my cheek. “It’s time for me to retire, anyway. I’m going to go on that cruise I always wanted.”
I helped Mrs. Dodge place the sign in her window and then left, feeling the worry overtake me. The Tiny Tiger hardly had any visitors today, even though Espresso Inc looked crowded.
Knitting’s not cool enough anymore to interest the young people in my store. But US would help the café, right? The livestream had to work out. I had no other option but to hope.
Phillip was due to arrive this evening, but that didn’t do much good if the full band wasn’t together.
We still didn’t have Aspen, or even know where he was.
According to Jake, before the guys split up for “vacation,” Aspen told everyone he was going to reconnect with nature.
What if he was out in the middle of nowhere and not answering his phone?
What were we going to do? What would I tell Mom?
I stepped back inside the café to see Jake and Leon waiting for me.
“Get in the car,” Jake said with a sly grin. “We’re going to get Aspen.”
***
I slid into my car, buckling myself in as Leon got in the back and Jake slipped into the passenger seat next to me. “Aspen’s here?”
“Sort of.”
Sort of? I sent Jake a look. What on earth did that mean? He was either here or he wasn’t. “Are we going to pick him up from the airport or something?”
“Or something. We’re going to Jewel Point.”
Jewel Point was a popular vacation spot known for its stunning views, and only about an hour and a half away from Somerset.
“Aspen’s there? Is he camping at a nature retreat?”
“Or something,” Jake repeated forebodingly as he handed me his phone to read a string of texts.
Aspen
7:07 P.M.–Yeah, it starts at 8. She rented one of the party rooms in the back of Club Z. It’s gonna be lit.
7:07 P.M.–[Shared link: View Online Directions]
7:08 P.M.–Unsend.
7:08 P.M.–Unsend.
7:09 P.M.–I said unsend! You were supposed to text Anna Jade, not Annoying Jake, you stupid voice automated—
7:10 P.M.–Skit skit skit are you kidding me text to speech OFF
7:10 P.M.–[Audio message: Transcript unavailable.]
7:13 P.M.–jake these texts weren’t meant for you just ignore them
7:14 P.M.–i’m still not talking to you btw
I assumed Aspen was not, in fact, at a nature retreat. Unless of course, the Z in Club Z stood for Zen.
Which I doubted.
I eyed the unfortunate row of texts. “You really weren’t kidding about Aspen not being able to work his new phone.”
“Lucky for us,” Jake said. “Because now we know exactly where he’s going to be and at what time.”
“So, what now? We crash this party and then—”
“Bandnap him,” Jake finished.
My eyebrows went up. “Sorry, what?”
“Hey, what’s a little kidnapping between friends? It’ll be fine,” he said, brushing off my concern. “We’ll make sure Aspen comes back with us one way or another.”
I stared at him a beat. “Should I ask?”
“We’ll circle back to the details later. We need to get going if we’re going to make it there on time.”
“Oh my God,” I muttered, starting the engine. “This is a terrible idea. You don’t seriously think we’ll have to kidnap him, do you?”
“We’ll find out,” he said calmly.
Before I put the car in reverse, I shoved another stick of gum into my mouth and turned on the radio. I needed to hear what song was being requested to distract me from what we were apparently about to do.
Jake cocked his head curiously as the LUVR radio host’s voice filled the car. He listened for a moment before looking over at me, his velvety eyes intense for a moment. I supposed it might’ve been a little bit out of the ordinary that my go-to wasn’t a Spotify playlist or something.
“I like to hear what songs people ask the hosts to play,” I said defensively, sliding my sunglasses on. “Songs are like a hidden clue to how a person’s really feeling or—”
“All the things they wish they could say,” Jake finished.
Surprised at hearing him complete my thoughts so clearly, my hands hovered over the wheel, unable to pull the car out just yet. I turned to him, my gaze locking onto his from behind my sunglasses.
We’d never spoken about this before. I hadn’t even developed the radio habit until after he’d gone. Yet he said almost word for word what I’d been about to say myself.
How did we end up thinking so alike after years of being apart?
“This is great,” Leon exclaimed, interrupting the moment and bringing me back to the task at hand as he bopped his head along to the radio. “We should definitely call in and request ‘One Way or Another.’”
“We should definitely not,” I countered.
Breaking News: Jake Moody and Leon Ward of the Usual Suspects requested this shady song from the local radio station before their bandmate Aspen Ray mysteriously went missing in the same vicinity.
Jake shook his head. “Plausible deniability, man, come on.”
“You know,” I said as I headed out of the parking lot, “someone once made a joke poll asking which member of US would be the easiest to bandnap.”
“That’s not the most bizarre US poll I’ve seen, to be honest,” Jake replied. Unable to help himself, he eyed me curiously out of the corner of his eye. “Who won?”
“Leon.”
Leon made an indignant little scoffing noise. “No way.”
Jake shook his head. “Not if they tried kidnapping Leon before coffee. He’d leave them crying.”
“You got last place,” I told Jake. “Obviously, they don’t know they can lure you just about anywhere simply by mentioning a cat café in a three-sentence email.”
“Oh? Is that what your letter was supposed to be? Bandnapping bait?”
“Well,” I said, glancing over at him, “I got you here, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” he replied, warmth glittering in his eyes. “You got me.”