As soon as I walked into Big Sur’s tiny post office, everyone wanted to know about the Hollywood People.

“I don’t have much,” I said, laughing and holding up my palms in acquiescence. “And Calvin has asked me to ask all of you to please stop spying on the models through the front window.”

Gladys smirked. “I don’t think that’s a crime. Plus, my binoculars broke when I was watching my neighbor the other day. My only option is to hide in the bushes.”

“Trespassing,” I said, throwing a wink her way. “Definitely a crime, I’m afraid.”

She rolled her eyes at me and continued stacking piles of mail on the desk.

“Your father wasn’t such a rule follower, you know,” she said. “And neither was Calvin’s grandfather. They used to love when we spied on their goings-on.”

That was something I seriously doubted.

Next to her, Gloria hooted. “You just like that one with the abs,” she said. Then, turning to her customer, a red-faced tourist by the looks of it: “Stamps? Sending a package?”

As the customer stumbled through their answer, I leaned against the counter. If I had questions about how to properly court a woman, even for a day, these two would have the answer, but involving them would mean the Big Sur Channel would know everything.

But I could take that bullet for Josie.

“What bodice-ripping hero are you reading about today?” I asked.

“Feign innocence, Gladys,” Gloria said. She turned to me, waving aside the customer like an annoying fly. “Sir, I’m not sure what you’re referring to. My sister and I are simply lowly desk jockeys, proud to serve the United States Postal Service.”

I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. “When do the two of you have your break?”

“Whenever the fuck we want,” Gloria drawled. Gladys nodded seriously.

Behind them, Kevin threw his hands up in the air, exasperated.

“We do have about a dozen customers waiting in line. But I guess that’s fine,” Kevin said with all the sarcasm he could muster. He looked a little rough around the edges, and I guessed he’d had more to drink than me at the party last night.

“Great, we’ll see you over there,” Gladys said, nodding at the counter—which was literally five feet from where I was standing. In unison, they both put up their ‘line closed’ signs, grabbed their iced coffees, and slid over to the smaller counter.

“So I’m guessing you want to tell us the real gossip,” Gloria whispered, sipping through her straw with wide eyes.

I shook my head, wondering if I was about to do something monumentally stupid.

“It’s about a girl,” I started, and before I could even get the next words out, I felt a presence by my side.

“Is it about the purple-haired girl?”

I turned to find Kevin hovering an inch from me.

“Christ, we need a movie theater in this town,” I said, turning around and noticing that most of the customers were listening in. I shot the sisters a desperate glance, and Gloria propped a hand on her hip.

“Kevin, there’s about a dozen customers in line, but I guess it’s fine you’re just standing here,” she said.

“I’ll just call your dad about it later,” he said, scurrying back behind the counter.

I turned back around, glancing at my watch. “I need your best work, ladies,” I said.

My heart was stumbling at the memory of the last time I’d had a conversation like this. Sasha had surprised me one day, asking for some space to ‘consider our future.’ I’d come to the sisters, totally in shock, trying to find a way to woo her back. I hoped romance and grand gestures would be the key to keeping her—and the sisters had whipped up something lovely. A moonlit dance on the beach, wine in a thermos, a picnic blanket on the sand. And yet when the three of us had planned it, the sisters had seemed… hesitant. Asking me questions, trying to pull out the things I loved, specifically, about Sasha. What made her my soulmate.

Gladys, specifically, had come right out and demanded to know why I hadn’t just proposed to her already—it’d been almost seven years.

And I hadn’t had a good answer.

Later when I came crawling back (Sasha had broken up with me on that same beach, and it was awful), they’d exchanged quick, mysterious glances as I told the story. They’d never specifically said ‘I told you so,’ but the loss of that relationship knocked me into an emotional tailspin for a long time.

And I hadn’t dated a woman longer than a month since then.

“Details,” Gladys said, snapping her fingers.

“Funny, weird, artsy, makeup artist from Los Angeles,” I said. “Her name is Josie.”

“What does she look like?”

Like a punk-rock dominatrix sent to make all my fantasies come true.

“A little… alternative,” I said. Even though Big Sur was filled with alternative people, it was more ‘I live off the land’ and less ‘I have a metal bar through my nose.’

“And her hair is only purple at the ends.”

“Have you kissed her yet?”

“Absolutely not,” I said, and dual sets of eyebrows raised in surprise.

“And how long is she here for?” They were scribbling down notes.

“One more night,” I said as they scribbled. I tried to read what they were writing, but they shooed me away.

“Let the masters work,” Gloria said, tapping the pen against her chin. I looked back at Kevin, scowling as he checked out customers. But they were all locals, and they were all listening.

“Does anyone else have something to say?” I said. “Or ask?”

Rex, whose family had owned a cattle farm for four generations, crossed his arms over his chest. “Is the purple-haired girl a Satanist? Kevin told me she had tattoos. Lots of ‘em.” Next to him Rosalie, an old friend of Isabelle’s, bit her lip in concern. I shot a glance at Kevin, who shrugged.

“At this point, I can neither confirm nor deny allegations of Josie’s Satan-worshiping activities,” I deadpanned, but no one laughed. I needed to give them a breadcrumb.

Sorry, Calvin.

“You know, Cal and Lucia, that super model, were getting kind of cozy, too,” I said, already forming the apology I’d need to say later. Because of his grandfather’s status, Cal was treated like a local. But emotionally, I wasn’t sure if his delicate Silicon Valley sensibilities could handle the full force of the Big Sur Channel.

The customers erupted in excited chatter. I turned back to the sisters, who were smugly crossing their arms.

Sliding the paper my way, Gladys slammed her pen down and took a long, celebratory sip from her coffee. “You’re heading to the florist, doll.”