I haven't seen her in a while and when she hugs me, her familiar scent of cinnamon and cigarettes washing over me, it feels so familiar. Kay and I used to come here all the time in high school.
"I just moved back in town and I've been getting settled. I'm staying over on Kent Avenue in one of those converted duplexes. I'm renting from Mrs. Hanes."
Miss Doris leads me to the counter. "Sure, I know Elaine. Her husband used to work for the gas company back when my Gerald was there. He was a nice guy. Liked the drink though," she whispers.
I can only shake my head. Now it really feels like old times. I forgot how small this town really is and how there are never really any secrets. Everybody knows your business even if you think you've been discreet. She leaves and comes back with a glass of Coke. It's a small thing but it feels good that she remembers my usual drink order.
"I'll just have a cheeseburger and an order of sweet potato fries."
She winks. 'You got it, kiddo."
I pull out my phone and start making lists. Despite having slightly less funding, I'm more determined than ever to make this club a success. Over the years I've built up an impressive list of private students but I've always done in-home tutoring. Now I'll finally have a commercial space to meet my students. One of the main reasons I was able to get a loan for this venture is because I proposed a space with dual functions. It will be a jazz club and a small theatre. And during the week when the club is closed, I can use the space for tutoring.
I was told I'd need a liquor license just to serve alcohol at my grand opening but I'm sure I'll need a different license to serve it on a permanent basis. I put that on the list. Also I'll need to figure out what suppliers to use so I can get the food and drink at more affordable prices. Miss Doris interrupts me to set my food down and I'm halfway through my burger when I finally realize that I'll have to scrap all my plans if I can't figure out how to trim expenses. I could do a scaled down opening but that's not really what I want to do. I wanted to make a splash.
I take another huge bite of my burger and console myself with the greasy delight.
On the way out, I leave cash on the table and then I stuff several bills in the tip jar up front.
I walk out of the diner and cross the street, walking down to my new building. Excitement shivers through me. It's mine! I use the key the landlord gave me to open the door and step inside. It smells musty from being closed up so I leave the front door open behind me to air things out a bit.
First thing, I take the For Lease sign out of the window and place it on the floor facedown. I'll have to give that back to the landlord later. Then I take a good, critical look around the space. When I was here before I was looking at it for its potential. Now I'm assessing its current condition. The floors are scuffed from where the previous tenants moved out and there's a thick layer of dust on everything.
In the middle of the floor are some bookcases left by the previous tenant. The landlord told me he would get them cleared out if I didn't want them but I think I’ll leave them. I’m not in the position to turn down free stuff, even if I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it all yet.
There's not too much I can do until it's cleaned up in here but it's fun to dream about what it'll be like. I pull the door closed behind me and lock up.
As I cross Main Street again, I take a good look around. It's a weekend and the middle of the day and while there are a respectable number of people out shopping, it's not exactly busy. Nowhere near the kinds of traffic you'd see in Virginia Beach or Norfolk. What was I thinking to try to start a club here? Even if there are a lot of jazz enthusiasts, are there enough to support a business?
Shaking off the negative thoughts, I get behind the wheel of my car and turn the key. There's a clicking sound. I turn the key again. Nothing.
This is not happening. Come on.
Spending the day stranded in the middle of town wasn't exactly my grand plan. I have roadside assistance but the last time I used it, it took forever. I glance across the street at the diner. Miss Doris might know someone who could tow me faster. Then for some reason my thoughts go to Gabe. Didn't he say that he owned an auto shop with his brother?
No, no, no. You are not calling him.
My resolve where he's concerned is already shaky at best and there's no way that I can keep my reserve around him if we keep getting thrown together. But when I pull out my phone to find the contact information for roadside assistance, my fingers end up doing a search for Gabe Marshall. G&Z Motors is the top search result.
Maybe this is a sign. A sign that I need to go after what I want. I snort. I’m not even sure what I want, other than to figure out how to get my club open on schedule. And to see Gabe again. I ignore the traitorous voice of reason and before I can think about it too hard, I dial the number.
"Hi, I need to get a tow truck."
* * * * *
The man who arrives to tow my car isn't Gabe or Zack. He's a small, wiry guy who introduces himself as Jim. I climb up into the cab of the truck while he scurries around the back attaching things and then I hear the motor as my car is lifted onto the bed. Then he's back in the driver's seat and we're off.
I twist my hands in my lap, wondering what the hell I was thinking. Gabe is going to know that I'm there deliberately to see him because I could have easily called a tow truck in New Haven. My nervousness only increases as we cross the city lines into West Haven. I'm not as familiar with this part of the county but it seems a little more rustic, with lots of tall, hanging trees and lots of farmland.
Finally we pull into an asphalt parking lot in front of a shop. At the sight of the huge G&Z Motors sign hanging over the door, my pulse picks up. Down girl. I'm not sure why my traitorous body is reacting this way. For all I know Gabe isn't even here. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. This has the potential to be really embarrassing.
"You can go inside, Miss. I'll get your car down and get it into one of the bays." Jim hooks a thumb toward the side of the building where there are what look to be several huge garage doors.
"Okay, thanks." I push open the door of the big truck and climb down carefully. The truck rumbles behind me as it pulls around the side of the building. When I push open the front door, a bell tinkles softly overhead.
Straight ahead there's a long black desk with a computer. A small stack of tires sits next to it. There's a man hunched over, typing painstakingly one key at a time.
At the sound of the bell, he looks up. "Can I help you?"