a
terrified little boy.
“Are you kidding me? No, definitely not here! Out the
back! Come and show me when you have it on and not before,” Robyn
ordered.
“Sure thing,” Milo replied, taking the package and
heading behind the bar.
There was a sudden banging and thumping on the door,
and Robyn hurried to open it, excited about the start of the
decorating. She had chosen cream for the top half of the walls and
a deep plum for the bottom half with a chair rail separating the
two. She wanted traditional, comfortable, and classic, something
that wouldn’t date too much.
She opened the door expecting to see Martin from
Decor with his painting equipment. Instead, she was face-to-face
with Nancy.
Nancy was wearing a fluorescent pink, velour
tracksuit. Her hair was piled high on her head and she had thick
gold hooped earrings hanging from her ears. She was trailer trash
personified.
“Oh,” Robyn stated, unable to hide her
disappointment.
“An early riser, I see. What you doing?” Nancy asked,
trying to look past Robyn into the bar.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. What
d’you want?”
“This is for you,” Nancy said, thrusting a large box
at her.
“What is it?”
“Old stuff of yours from the house. Haynes motor
manuals for about a dozen cars your dad tells me he’s never owned,
vintage boy’s toys, little dinky cars, a prom dress that’s seen
better days and, surprisingly, no dolls. I need the space. I’ve got
someone moving in to help with the bills. There’s invoices in there
for this place—they need paying,” Nancy informed her.
“Who’s moving in?” Robyn wanted to know.
“That’s no concern of yours. Your dad knows all about
it.”
“Does he?” Robyn asked, unconvinced.
“Yes, he does, ask him. Listen, you’ve taken this
place, I’m not going to let you muscle your way into the house,
too,” Nancy snarled.
“It’s Dad’s house, not yours,” Robyn stated.
“I’m his fiancée,” Nancy snapped back.
“We’ll see about that,” Robyn said, fixing Nancy with
a stare.
“Whatever, sugar. Me and your dad, we have history,”
Nancy answered.
“Funny enough, so do we—like twenty-five years.”
“Couple of flowery letters in there too, from Brad.
Amused me all morning,” Nancy replied.
“Are we done?” Robyn asked.
“We’re done.”
Robyn dropped the box on the floor and slammed the
door closed. She leaned against it and closed her eyes. Nancy was a
hassle she could do without. She’d been away too long. She should
have been around to make sure her dad didn’t do stupid things like
hitch himself to a gold-digger.
When she opened her eyes, Milo stood in the middle of
the room dressed in his black trousers and new burgundy t-shirt
that read “Eddie’s Roadhouse” on the front.
“Ooo, you look cute! In a very masculine and cool
way…that goes without saying. Turn around, turn around,” Robyn
encouraged excitedly.
Milo turned his back to her, and Robyn clapped her
hands together as she read “Eddie’s Roadhouse, Shaver Road,
Portage, MI—Come here for beer and cheer.”
“I love it! Don’t you love it, Milo? It’s great!”
Robyn said.
“I’m not sure about the color,” Milo replied
stiffly.
“The color’s perfect. It’s the same color as the
bottom half of the walls are going to be and the new sign,” Robyn
told him.
“When are you planning to re-open?” Milo asked.
“Next Friday,” Robyn informed him.
“Next Friday!”
“Is that panic in your voice, Milo? I hope it isn’t
panic, because I need all the help I can get, and what I don’t need
is panic. In fact, panic is not even a word I want mentioned at all
in this bar. I have a chef coming today, someone I’m trying to
poach from another roadhouse. I have old Ada making new covers for
the seats, interviews for staff, and I’ll have menus and flyers
printed by the end of the week,” Robyn stated, writing things down
on her list.
“What about plates and knives
terrified little boy.
“Are you kidding me? No, definitely not here! Out the
back! Come and show me when you have it on and not before,” Robyn
ordered.
“Sure thing,” Milo replied, taking the package and
heading behind the bar.
There was a sudden banging and thumping on the door,
and Robyn hurried to open it, excited about the start of the
decorating. She had chosen cream for the top half of the walls and
a deep plum for the bottom half with a chair rail separating the
two. She wanted traditional, comfortable, and classic, something
that wouldn’t date too much.
She opened the door expecting to see Martin from
Decor with his painting equipment. Instead, she was face-to-face
with Nancy.
Nancy was wearing a fluorescent pink, velour
tracksuit. Her hair was piled high on her head and she had thick
gold hooped earrings hanging from her ears. She was trailer trash
personified.
“Oh,” Robyn stated, unable to hide her
disappointment.
“An early riser, I see. What you doing?” Nancy asked,
trying to look past Robyn into the bar.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. What
d’you want?”
“This is for you,” Nancy said, thrusting a large box
at her.
“What is it?”
“Old stuff of yours from the house. Haynes motor
manuals for about a dozen cars your dad tells me he’s never owned,
vintage boy’s toys, little dinky cars, a prom dress that’s seen
better days and, surprisingly, no dolls. I need the space. I’ve got
someone moving in to help with the bills. There’s invoices in there
for this place—they need paying,” Nancy informed her.
“Who’s moving in?” Robyn wanted to know.
“That’s no concern of yours. Your dad knows all about
it.”
“Does he?” Robyn asked, unconvinced.
“Yes, he does, ask him. Listen, you’ve taken this
place, I’m not going to let you muscle your way into the house,
too,” Nancy snarled.
“It’s Dad’s house, not yours,” Robyn stated.
“I’m his fiancée,” Nancy snapped back.
“We’ll see about that,” Robyn said, fixing Nancy with
a stare.
“Whatever, sugar. Me and your dad, we have history,”
Nancy answered.
“Funny enough, so do we—like twenty-five years.”
“Couple of flowery letters in there too, from Brad.
Amused me all morning,” Nancy replied.
“Are we done?” Robyn asked.
“We’re done.”
Robyn dropped the box on the floor and slammed the
door closed. She leaned against it and closed her eyes. Nancy was a
hassle she could do without. She’d been away too long. She should
have been around to make sure her dad didn’t do stupid things like
hitch himself to a gold-digger.
When she opened her eyes, Milo stood in the middle of
the room dressed in his black trousers and new burgundy t-shirt
that read “Eddie’s Roadhouse” on the front.
“Ooo, you look cute! In a very masculine and cool
way…that goes without saying. Turn around, turn around,” Robyn
encouraged excitedly.
Milo turned his back to her, and Robyn clapped her
hands together as she read “Eddie’s Roadhouse, Shaver Road,
Portage, MI—Come here for beer and cheer.”
“I love it! Don’t you love it, Milo? It’s great!”
Robyn said.
“I’m not sure about the color,” Milo replied
stiffly.
“The color’s perfect. It’s the same color as the
bottom half of the walls are going to be and the new sign,” Robyn
told him.
“When are you planning to re-open?” Milo asked.
“Next Friday,” Robyn informed him.
“Next Friday!”
“Is that panic in your voice, Milo? I hope it isn’t
panic, because I need all the help I can get, and what I don’t need
is panic. In fact, panic is not even a word I want mentioned at all
in this bar. I have a chef coming today, someone I’m trying to
poach from another roadhouse. I have old Ada making new covers for
the seats, interviews for staff, and I’ll have menus and flyers
printed by the end of the week,” Robyn stated, writing things down
on her list.
“What about plates and knives
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