Whack The Mole (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 2)

Ha! Too bad Brittany isn’t here for this.

“So, my guy here—what’s your name again? Why is my film crew always quitting on me? Oh yeah, it’s Wade, right? Say hi, Wade!” she orders.

Man Bun mumbles something under his breath that sounds like “The name is Wayne.” He barely glances at me. “Hey.”

“So, as I was saying, Wade is going to set up the equipment and you and your customers just ignore us. Yep, just go about your business making lattes or whatever else it is you do, and we’ll just do our thing too.”

Sarah pokes her head out the kitchen door.

“You must be the other one!” She grabs Sarah’s hand and pumps it up and down vigorously. “Tara Bell, Cooking Channel producer. Got your signature on all our papers, so we’re good to go.”

“Hello,” Sarah says, looking confused.

I explain what’s going on.

“We thought you’d be here Monday.”

“They all do!” Tara starts laughing like a hyena. I don’t know what she’s smoking, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t legal yet in Florida.

I try to do what Tara asks by ignoring her and the guy with the camera.

Our customers, however, are a different story.

Viola comes up to the counter to ask for extra cream. “Lucy, dear, who is that strange woman standing in the corner looking at everyone and taking notes? She seems a bit…intense.”

“She’s a producer from the Cooking Channel. She and her crew are here to take some spontaneous footage. It’s part of the audition process for Battle of the Beach Eats.”

“You mean, we’re on camera?”

I nod.

“I wish I’d known! I would have had my hair done.”

“I think they’re looking for spontaneity.”

The door to The Bistro opens and Brittany dashes in. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt and four-inch heels. It also looks like she went to the salon a

nd got a blowout. Her auburn hair is sleek and shiny, whereas my brown curly hair is stuffed beneath a sweaty baseball cap. If this weren’t her everyday look, I’d think that Brittany knew something I didn’t.

She takes one look at Tara and freezes. “Oh my God. It’s true. They’re here.” Brittany smooths down her skirt and smiles for the camera, something she’s had a lot of practice with since she’s a former Miss Cheese Grits. She’s won other pageants as well, but that title is my personal favorite.

Tara waves to us from across the room. “Hey, girls! Keep doing what you’re doing, and we’ll keep doing our thing too!”

“What’s going on?” Brittany asks without moving her lips and smiling at the same time. It’s an impressive skill. This must have been her pageant talent.

I try to do the magic lip thing too, but after flubbing the first couple of words, I give up. “Tara and her film crew are here early.”

“Well, obviously. But why?”

“Because they want us to be real and spontaneous.”

Brittany keeps smiling in case the camera catches her. “I need to go warn the other restaurants in town. Make sure to keep her here as long as possible.”

“How am I supposed to do that? I’ve got a business to run.”

“I don’t know!” she whispers-shouts still doing her ventriloquist act. “Just. Do. It.”

I feel like I should salute, but I restrain myself. “I’ll try my best.”