Zen screws up their face, and then bursts out laughing.
“So glad you’re amused,” I say dryly. “You realize it’s a lot easier to fire you than it is to fire her?”
“Look, Uncle Grey, I’m not saying she’ll be my best friend, but you can’t blame a girl for fudging details when she’s prominently featured in the internet’s most viral video since Baby Shark. You look at how this location’s running, especially compared to the two other locations Chipmunk bought, and it’s clear she’s a good manager. Someone who’s this integrated into a community will make or break a business. If I were you, I’d give her the benefit of the doubt and make sure she wants to keep working here after the renovation and relaunch. Or at least make sure she doesn’t sabotage us.”
“You just like her dog.”
“Don’t be an ass. If that dog had belonged to anyone else, you’d be sharing your eggs with it right now.”
They’re not wrong. And that’s annoying too.
Perfect woman in Hawaii.
Fluffy, furry, drooly doggy here.
And I don’t trust her. Mostly because I want to and I know better.
I mutter something incoherent into my tea mug.
“You decide yet if this new job direction is a forever thing or a just until you realize you’re not built to be this kind of asshole thing?” they ask.
“No.”
They shrug and rise. “Cool. For what it’s worth, I like it so far. But we haven’t met many people yet, so I might change my mind. Eat. And drink. I love you, but I’m not interested in dragging your ass back to the emergency room if you make bad choices.”
Point taken.
Blacking out and waking up in the back of an ambulance—after realizing what Vince’s betrayal meant to my lab and my future in bee research had sent my body into a full-on stress meltdown—wasn’t my favorite moment either.
Would’ve preferred to enter my villain era more like the Incredible Hulk, but apparently instead, I get blood pressure issues in my early thirties.
Yay.
I dutifully dig into the eggs. Zen retreats back to the kitchen, and when I take my plate back to the sink, they’re giggling with glee over a hidden cubbyhole behind a small door under the desk that’s full of what seems to be stacks of fliers for events from many, many years ago.
Hard not to smile at that glee.
Being Super Vengeance Man will have its problems, but watching Zen enjoy themselves like this is priceless.
They dig into testing the coffee machines while I head back to spread out on a table and bury myself in researching everything I need to know about converting a café into a kombucha brewery and bar.
When I told them I was considering buying a mountain café to destroy it for personal satisfaction, they smirked, asked the address, and did some digging. Three days later, they presented me with a full marketing plan for changing the café into something that would likely thrive here.
No competition in this niche market. The demographics fit, especially with the tourism that comes in due to nearby ski resorts. And Zen’s watched me make my own kombucha at home for years.
They knew what they were doing with giving me something good to try on top of getting revenge.
And now here we are.
And all is well—including meeting the normal morning crew who show up around five-thirty—until Sabrina returns.
She doesn’t say anything to me when she gets back to start her shift, but there’s a new stubborn sheen in her eyes while she ties on her apron that I recognize all too well.
I’ve seen it on myself often enough when I’ve encountered test results in my research lab that didn’t make sense, but that I was determined to figure out.
And I like it.
And I don’t like that I like it.
When Zen calls me to the kitchen to look at water leaking out from the fridge, Sabrina reports she called the local repairman already, but he’s demanding prepayment for the fix since Chandler apparently has some outstanding bills and the café’s reputation has taken a hit.
She also leaps in, poker-faced, to introduce me to the food truck driver and the coffee supply rep, along with the health department inspector who’s in not for an inspection, but a cup of coffee.
And every time she introduces me to someone, she says something nice about me.
He saved the café.
He’s so dedicated, he was here even before me this morning.
He’s very good at math, so I know we’re in good hands.
I recognize this.
This is good deed Monday.