Janie

“I can’t stop myself from waiting for the other shoe to drop,” I tell my best friend, Sahara, over the phone while I pace the plush rug in my living room. Over the last three years, it’s developed a slightly faded track near the edges. It’s a good rug for pacing on, and I pace a lot. That’s pretty much how I choose a rug.

Sahara takes the sudden table turn between us in stride, God bless her; normally she’s the one calling me, bitching and moaning about one boy or another and the tiny things about them that bother her — or the major things that bother her, sometimes. It’s like my own personal ringside seat to the longest reality dating show in history.

“Girl, I know you are not in a panic right now,” Sahara says.

I can almost see her face. No one has been a more vocal supporter of me that Sahara since we were roommates in college. She literally thinks I can do anything. I used to think that too, but… it’s slipping. That’s why I called.

“This isn’t just a dip in business,” I insist. “This is someone intentionally out to get me. I knew that, but… I mean, did you see the piece that just came out?”

“I saw it. You think it was about Reginald Ferry?”

“And his son, Jake. That rat bastard walked right into Red Hall and asked me to dance, Sahara.” I scoff and shut down the image of Jake’s smile in my mind. “To dance. Well, we’re certainly dancing now.”

“That article is getting hard press. Want me to go comment on a bunch of the reposts pointing fingers? I’ll do it.”

“I know you would,” I say. And for all I know it would help. But… “Leave it. I don’t want to play his game. That’s not what I want to be known for, and if it got back that my best friend was commenting it would look like I asked you to sling mud on my account, and… that’s just as bad as doing it myself. But, what am I going to do? I don’t have any idea.”

“Listen to me,” Sahara says, putting on the big girl panties I must have taken off at some point, “this is nothing. A busted pipe is not going to ruin your business. Not with everything going on right now. It’ll be forgotten about in a week once you’re open again. You’re too good a person to be broken down by this complete nonsense, okay?”

“I hope you’re right,” I mutter. My throat is a little tight. “I wish you were here.”

“I know you do,” she says. “Trust that I am hugging you through the Force day and night, okay?”

I chuckle. “Nerd.”

“Always.” She sighs. “Keep your head up. You’ve got something neither of the Ferry jerks have, baby and that’s dignity. Capital D on that.”

“And all they’ve got is billions of dollars, and, I suspect, some kind of criminal network of spies and saboteurs.”

“Stop it,” she warns me. “Just stop. You know what you need? A day off. The plumber doesn’t come until Thursday, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “But I need to help bring in the new inventory and — ”

She makes a rude noise over the phone. “Nope. I forbid you to work tomorrow. Take a day off, Janie. Go to the spa. Treat yo’ self, woman. Or I will order strippers and naughty massage therapists and send them to your apartment one after the other until you are relaxed and packed to the gills with sweaty, sexy, gyrating men.”

I don’t doubt for even a moment that she would do it, too.

Saying the words is like pushing against some kind of latex wall; I can feel the tension resisting as I push through it and make the decision and very nearly get bounced right back. But if I can just say the words, it’ll start to be real. “I… guess…” Deep breath. “Chester could probably handle inventory with Lacey’s help. Gloria is almost useless, but she can at least write numbers down.”

“How many people does this job take?”

“I normally do it myself but — ”

“Good Lord, Janie,” Sahara groans. “Give it to Chester and Lacey, then. You said they’re on board for the ride, right? You trust them?”

“Lately? Yes… I guess. It’s hard not to feel like everyone has a price tag these days.”

“Do you?”

I want to spit. “Some people seem to think so… but no, I don’t.”

“Then maybe they don’t either, okay? Now,” she says, serious again, “say the words, Janie Hall.”

“Fine,” I say, caving in at last. “I’ll do it. I’ll take a day off and… go to the spa.”

“Good girl. If you were here, I’d give you a treat and pet your head.”

We laugh, and honestly… I do feel a little better.

If I had my way — I mean, if I could literally bend reality to my will — I would live my life in near-boiling water.

I’m up to my chin in salt water, after subjecting myself to a deep-tissue massage and a half-hour seaweed wrap that I can still feel aching in my muscles. After that much-needed abuse, they led me to a room all to myself with a massive bamboo tub, Japanese style, and after some argument on my part agreed to crank the heat up — if I signed a waiver, which I did.

The heat sinks into me, summoning a torrent of sweat on every inch of skin exposed to the air, and for a little while I am able to clear my mind of all my worries. The scents of lemon and lavender fill my nose, and I drift.

Like a boat crashing on a rocky shore, I drift right into thoughts of Jake Ferry. Of those strong hands when they were briefly on my hips, and of that confident grin of his in the moments just before he asked me out in the most bullshit way possible.

But if I back up… if I imagine a different question, a different outcome. If I imagine that I’m not fighting a losing battle against him and his father…

My fingers find my clit before I realize where they’re headed and I have to drag them away. For one thing, the staff here will check up on me at some point, and I’ve lost track of time. But for another, even if he isn’t here to know my thoughts I refuse to even give imaginary Jake the satisfaction of knowing how he stirs me up. Oh no. You can go fuck yourself, imaginary Jake.

I take a mental left turn, and immerse myself in planning instead. A literal brainstorm as I try to think of the buzz around this or that distillery or vineyard. Who has something coming up that would make some noise? Someone loyal, that I could keep the Ferrys cut out of? I hate that I’m thinking that way, but at least regional exclusivity is entirely above board. I don’t doubt for second that Ferry Lights is making deals like that. Though for all I know I’m going to find myself blacklisted by every distributor in the region before long.

Didn’t I hear something about a wedding recently? Who was that… I sift through memories of my daily trek through the social media universe, looking for what I’m reminded of and… yes! That’s it. Tim Waller and Jenna Stone just announced their wedding plans a few months ago, and it should be happening sometime this month. I’ve known Tim for years, and he’s been meaning to come by Red Hall. I bet if I offered to host the reception he’d take me up on it. An exclusive event like that would catapult Red Hall way above Ferry Lights; and Reginald can kiss my ass from below.

I need to take more spa days.