Page 51 of Clap Back (Carter Brothers)
“Hello?” the woman on the other end of the line answered, sounding cheerful and fake.
I grimaced before starting in on my spiel. “Hey, this is Maven Brumfield. I’m currently looking for a commercial space to rent with kitchen capabilities for my bakery. I saw you have a listing on Front Street. Would you mind giving me some details on it?”
The woman hummed, sounding excited.
I waited patiently while her hands started to click away on her keyboard.
I could tell she had fake nails based solely on how loud her fingers tapped against the keyboard.
“Found it,” she chirped. “This is a three-thousand-square-foot commercial building that used to be a bakery. The front half was used for baking and prep, while the back half was used to package and ship items. It has…”
She went on and listed every single detail, then paused, “But I do have another space that’s not on the market yet. Rent comes up at the end of this month, and the area for a bakery would be divine. It’s new construction right next to the police station, so crime would be nonexistent. Oh, and…”
The more she explained the second property, the more excited I became.
It also helped that the rent on the building was about a thousand dollars less a month, it had more space available than my current location, and it was brand new construction. Meaning, I wouldn’t have to work too hard to make it ready, and things wouldn’t just break at the drop of a hat like an old building would.
“It sounds fantastic. When can I come see it?”
Now?
I mean, I could always text a certain someone’s mom and find out that certain person’s address, then be waiting for him to get home…
“I’m free tomorrow,” she replied, disappointing me. “Late afternoon.”
I found myself smiling wide despite her not being able to get to it today, and said, “I’m definitely interested in checking it out. Can you text me when would be a good time and the address of this building?”
“Certainly,” she said.
After a few more pleasantries we hung up, and I started to close out of all the listings on my computer.
Once done, I went to the kitchen and stared blankly into my fridge, wondering if it was okay to eat Chinese food that was over a week old.
Before I could make the leap, my phone rang. Since it showed Dorsey calling, I answered it.
“Hey, sis. How are you doing?” I answered absently, moving to the drawer with my take-out menus.
“This is not Dorsey.” My stepmother’s voice came over the line.
I pulled back to look at my phone to make sure I hadn’t misread who was calling, only to get a Facebook Messenger message from Dorsey saying: Mom came and took my phone because it’s time for us to grow up and get our own cell phone plans. She even took the phone back that I paid for because it was on her plan. Freakin’ bitch.
Another one came right on its heels saying: I’m at a friend’s house in Gatlinburg, Tennessee about fifteen hours away. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get a phone when I get back. But if you need me, message me on here.
When I put the phone back to my ear it was to hear my stepmother still talking. “…want to come in and talk to you.”
Well, that wouldn’t be happening.
“I’ll meet you outside,” I said instead.
Just as I said that a boom of thunder sounded.
I looked out the window and grimaced.
“At least this might make it fast,” I grumbled as I kicked something small and plastic from beside my couch.
I frowned at the small plastic case, then smiled.
I’d taken the little plastic ring from Auden’s cup holder when he’d driven me back home after my car was towed.