Page 46 of Thirst For Me
“No worries,” Sophie says, when I just stutter out a hello. “You’re just in time. What can we get you?”
Kaylie looks around the shop with delight. “Ice Cream” pumps over our portable sound system as they approach the counter, which is actually a bar. The guts of a former restaurant remain in Pier Seven and my pop-up barely uses a quarter of the space, but Sophie and I have done our best to Cutie-Fruitify it, as we like to call it, with fairy lights and colorful signage and music. Kaylie’s eyes zip like pinballs from theSlay All Dayneon sign to the stacks of multicolored smoothie cups to the rainbow balloon arch.
“This place issogirly-pop!” she cries.
I’m struggling to scrape myself together as thoughts whirl around my head like fruit in a blender. Is Mason about to come storming through the door? Does he even know his family’s here? Is this some cruel test?
But when Layne smiles at me, a warm, friendly smile, I remember that he’s miles nicer than his brother. And anyway, why would he bring his daughter with him if he was here to do something hideously arrogant like offer me money to leave town?
So, I greet her like I would any ten-year-old VIP whose uncle is not an outrageous d-bag. “Hey, Kaylie! That dress is fire. You win best outfit of the day.” I hand her a lollipop.
Her eyes almost pop out of her head. “Really?!”
“By miles,” Sophie concurs.
“But maybe save that for tomorrow,” I suggest. “After lunch. If you’re here for a smoothie. We don’t wanttoo muchsugar all at once.”
“Okay.” She hands the lollipop to her dad. “We never have anything this fun here!” she declares.
“Then good thing we came to town, huh?” I meet Layne’s eyes. “Layne. I think I met your dog the other day. Scaramouche?”
“You met Scar?” Kaylie says.
“Yup.” I lean on the counter on my elbows so Kaylie and I are more eye to eye. “You let your dad name your dog after a lyric in a Queen song?”
She rolls her eyes. “I know, right? So old-school. Why were they even called Queen if they were all boys?”
Oh, my. Sidestepping that one quick.
“So, tell me, who’s the bigger music fan, your dad or your uncle?” Not that I care about her uncle. Just making conversation here.
“Hmm. They both listen to music a lot, but I’d have to say my dad because he plays guitar.”
“Impressive,” I say mildly, feeling oddly victorious that Mason lost that little competition.
“But I listen to thebestmusic,” she asserts.
“I’m sure you do. Who are your top five?”
“Sabrina Carpenter, Olivia Rodrigo, Tate McRae, Taylor Swift,” she rattles off immediately. “Girls are slay, obviously. But Benson Boone is cool, too.”
“All excellent choices.” I look up at her dad, who’s checking out the menu on the wall above. “Do you guys know what you want? Or would you like some help deciding?”And can we please get this over with so you can leave before Mason hears through the local gossip chain that you came in here, and I get blamed for it?
“What do you recommend?” he asks.
“Hmm. Do you like raspberries, Kaylie? And strawberries, et cetera?”
“Yes.”
“Given your appreciation of female pop stars, it’s a Britney Spears-inspired Berry Baby One More Time for you.” I hear Sophie already making it behind me. “Would you like a poof of cotton candy on top?”
Kaylie bounces on her toes. “Yes!”
“And for you ...” I give her dad a narrow-eyed appraisal, making her giggle. “You get a Good Day Sunshine.”
“Sounds good,” he says, amused.
“Is that a song, too?” Kaylie asks, delighted.
