At Taste Teas I was pouring a tall glass of iced tea and watching Jackson ice some kind of strange looking cake behind the baker’s counter.

            “What is that?” I asked him.

            “Custard Cake.”

            “It looks totally disgusting.” I picked up the tray.

            “Trying something new. Might be a best seller.”

            “We’ll see.” I said with a smile.

             Jackson had been happier than I’d seen him in years now that the threat of reentering prison was behind him. I watched him, a free man all the ugliness of the past few months behind him. Free to bake his cakes in peace, as it should be.

            Pasha walked in off her lunch break and smiled. “You should have let me bring you back a vegan dog, they were very delicious today.”

            To my credit, I managed not to show the wince. “No, that’s okay.” I walked from behind the counter with the tray that held the single glass of iced tea.

            “You know Evie, I just want to say that I’m super proud of you for finally joining my cause. Because of you, one underprivileged little girl out there can get an education.”

            That’s right; she finally pestered me into giving money to one of her many organizations. I figured if there are people like Earl in this world, spreading so much hate in the name of the almighty dollar, then I could use a little bit of my own dollars giving a little love back. After all, it was just pocket change to me, and if it helped one girl I’ll never meet stand a fighting chance, then it was worth it.

            “By the way,” Pasha continued. “Did you know that if you donate just a little money to this wild life reserve I heard about you could save an endangered tiger? I’d be for a good cause.”

            “Are you for real? Don’t you have some coffee to make or something?” Geez, give an inch and she’ll walk all over you.

            “Oh, all right.” She hummed a chipper tune while she walked toward the break room. Her heart was in the right place but the girl was straight nuts.

            I sighed and continued my walk toward the stairs. Speaking of Earl, his court date is coming up soon. He’s up for two murder charges, assault with a firearm, battery, and two counts attempted murder. I hope they send him to jail for the rest of his life.

            Naturally, Johnny and I will have to testify in court. Earl didn’t even try to deny his crimes. They caught him red handed. Standing over me with a gun loaded with bullets that matched the one they pulled out of Johnny and the one that took Karalyn’s life. He was toast and he knew it.

            When I got to the top floor, my body adjusted callously from the comfort of central heating air to the harsh heat. Johnny was standing on a short ladder with his hands busy tinkering with the insides of the broken AC unit. About a month ago, Johnny had walked into Taste Teas and let slip that he spent time up North as a painter.

            Thrilled by this I asked him to paint over the ugly red messages left on the wall of my office and my bedroom. He agreed, for a price. He thought he was finished with me and could finally move on, but then he let slip that he’d briefly worked at an air conditioning repair company in Texas. Overjoyed I asked him to fix the unit here at Taste Teas, and he agreed to for only one hundred and twenty dollars; plus tea. He calls it an annoyingly persistent discount.

            I sauntered up to him, yellow sundress sticking against my now sweaty legs and held the tray up. He looked down at me with the usual look; harsh yet not unkind. He was dressed same old; with his hair back into a pony tail that for once uncovered his face.

            “Tea break.” I said. He grabbed the glass and took a tentative sip.

            “You make decent tea.”

            “A compliment? Cool, our relationship is improving.”

            “What relationship?” I saw the muscle in his jaw tighten.

            “You know, because we’re friends now. Since you saved my life.”

            He graced me with one of his trademark scoffs. “You can’t just decide we’re friends, girlie. Not without even asking first. And I didn’t save your life.”

            “And so modest too. My hero.”

            “Very funny.” He sat the tea down then turned back to work, but when I didn’t speak or make to leave he looked back at me hesitantly.

            “That wasn’t a joke.” I said in my rarely serious tone.  “You are my hero. If you wouldn’t have been there…” He nodded at me. We both knew what would have happened if he hadn’t. I held my hand out toward him, as if we were meeting for the first time. “Friends?”

            He wrapped his large calloused hand around mine and shook it. “Friends.” We stood like that a moment, the two of us reliving a journey that only the other could fully understand. He gave me one of his genuine smiles, a smile he doesn’t give often. “You’re just lucky I had decided to take a smoke break.” We released hands.

            After I left him on the porch, Johnny had intended to leave but realized the bus wasn’t running anymore so decided to wait for me so I could give him a ride to the boarding house. It was then, sitting on the porch step, smoking a cigarette, and wondering how he managed to end up following around some stupid chick in the middle of the night that he heard me scream. He’d come running into the house without question to help me.

            “She’s my girlfriend.” He said softly. He’d said it so randomly that it took me a moment to register what he was trying to tell me. The girl in the painting.

            “Oh really? Does she live around here, could I meet her?” I said in a teasing tone.

            “She …was my girlfriend…she’s dead.” Oh hello Mr. Foot have you met my mouth? Oh you have. That’s right you do like to visit there often don’t you.

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Why? You’re not the one who killed her.”

            Something about the way he said that broke through the stifling heat of the room and ran a chill straight through my core. I didn’t ask. I knew by now that when it comes to Johnny, you just don’t ask. He was staring at me with one of those concentrated looks he gets that I now recognized as him revisiting some dark corner of his mind. He went back to working on the AC.

            “I’ll be leaving soon.” He said suddenly.

            “When?”

            “Whenever the trials over.” I was going to be sad to see him go. He was grouchy, often brash, and more than a little mean. But deep down, he was a good guy, and I was just starting to get used to him. The AC sputtered and coughed to life. I held my hand up in front of the vent and sure enough cold air was coming out.

            “You’re the best handy-man ever! How much was that again?”

            “Hundred and twenty.”

            “Put it on my tab.”

            “This,” He said as he gestured between us. “Doesn’t work like that.”

            I gave him a joking smile then turned on my heel and bounded out of there. I was halfway down the stairs, thinking about how much I’d miss him, when I had a strange thought. I’m the worst boss ever! No, seriously.

            My barista’s a hippy who’s very likely to chain herself to a tree, my baker’s an ex-con who tittering on the edge of falling off the wagon, my handyman could pick up without a moment’s notice and blow out of town as abruptly as he had blown in, and then there’s me, the boss who spends more time hunting down bad guys like some deranged vigilante.

            You know shits bad when the most responsible, trustworthy employee is the teenager. At least I can depend on Lana to be here…unless it’s prom or something.

            Seriously, how do I even stay in business? I hate coffee, am barely at work, can barely manage this money shit, and my staff’s full of unreliable assholes. Welcome to Taste Teas, home of the world’s most unreliable wait staff.

            Later that evening I was sitting at the bar at Delmars nursing a beer and watching the television while I waited for Henry. Channel Five News was making some breaking news alert about some bad hostage situation happening at a bank.

            The new co-host was named Teddy Freeland. He had a bushy blond mustache, thick eyebrows, heavy southern accent, and apparently twelve years experience at some other station out of town. Allison had begrudgingly had to step down as temporary co-host and as I hear it was spending her days as Teddy’s intern, though the station is looking for a permanent place for her.

            Henry had been so relieved to know I wasn’t hurt but felt a little guilty since he’d failed in his Watson role by not being there when he was most needed. He’d spent a couple weeks doing anything I asked. I even got him to paint my toes. Turns out he’s really bad at that. He has really unsteady hands. Never again.

            He finally burst through the door and after apologizing for being late asked Jimmy for a beer. Jimmy obliged with a harsh scowl on his face.

            “I shouldn’t even serve you two.” He said as he popped the top on the bottle. “Still owe me money.”

            “What are you talking about?” I said incredulously. “I paid my debt as soon as I came in here.”

            He leaned over the bar on his forearms then with an annoyed tone said, “You came in here, slammed a dollar bill on the bar, then called it a down payment on your tab. That’s not even a fraction of what you owe!”

            “I told you it’s a down payment. We have to set up a payment plan.”

            “And in the meantime you drink me out of bar and home?”

            “Works for me.” He threw up his hands and sulked off. I should be nicer to my bartender, I’ll make that a New Year’s resolution. “Where were you?” I asked Henry.

            “Me and the agent were in a fight with the publishing house.” While he was resting from his fractured wrist, he’d managed to finish the sequel to his book. “Looking into getting a pay increase for the next book. They’re anticipating it being a best seller.”

            “I knew I should have written books like you. I owe one person one hundred and twenty dollars, I owe this bar like a bazillion, and you’re over here in your sweet house and your SUV negotiating for more money.” The way I’m heading, I’ll be filing bankruptcy by my twenty-seventh birthday.

            “But at least you’ve got friends.” I merely rolled my eyes at this.

            “By the way the wedding’s back on for me and Detective Juarez.”

            “Evie, that man is not thinking about you.” Henry said flatly.

            “No! I’m not crazy, he totally called me pretty. And listen to this –are you listening, he winked.”

            “So? I wink at people all the time. I’ve winked at you.”

            “Yeah but-“

            “Why are chicks so weird like that?” Jimmy asked as he strolled over to us. “You give them the least bit of attention and suddenly they’re planning your whole lives together. Right up to matching burial plots. Maybe he had something in his eye. Did you think of that?”

            “No, this was a flirty wink-“

            “Yeah, why do girls do that?” Henry chimed in. “Make complicated fantasies about stuff that’s never going to happen. Concoct entire scenarios where the guy is some Jesus-like knight-in-shining-armor only to get completely disappointed when it doesn’t work out.”

                "Well, you don't have to write a dissertation about it or nothing-"

            “Seriously,” Jimmy continued. “Okay maybe he did wink in a flirtatious way. But I don’t know why you’re picking out flowers for the wedding. He probably just wants to get in your pants.”

            “I hate you guys.” I grumbled as I took a sip of my beer. “Can’t you let me be a girl sometimes? Worst girlfriends ever.”

            “Maybe, but you know you wouldn’t want us any other way.” Henry smiled and chucked me affectionately under the chin. He was right of course. I love them just the way they are, smartass wisecracks and all. Thank God I have a friend like Henry who’s always got my back, even when I’m being a little ridiculous, a little crazy, and more than a little annoying. I don’t know what I’d do without him.

            Then Henry said the greatest five words in any human language to ever be uttered by anyone.

            “Hey everybody drinks on me!”

            Oh Hells yeah!