I ease into the plasticky plaid retro lawn chair, feeling mellow and smiley. An emotionally loaded day calls for Unicorn Piss, a citrus-forward, high-THC hybrid that promises giggly bliss for experienced users. So far, it hasn’t let me down. Even after all the drama, stress, and heartache of the last few months, I feel better than I have in a long time. My flare has begun to subside, my body feels like my own again, and having Julian there beside me, listening to me and loving me through it all, is a relief I’ve never known.
Plus, Ilovemy bidet.
I hadn’t realized I’d given up on finding my person until I found him. Now that I have, the shrill whine of loneliness that pervaded my life grows quieter every day, replaced byhisvoice loudly berating TV medical dramas, musing over the latest Parkinson’s research while his glasses slipdown his nose, whispering incoherent praise in my ear as he fills me with his heat, his longing, his love.
Life has never sounded better.
While it’s sad spending Labor Day sitting in front of my failed labors, it’s beautiful out, and I’m here with my best friends, snacks, and front-row seats for the parade, waiting for my giant boyfriend to drive by in a tiny car. I laugh at the sky, remembering how I helped Julian bobby-pin Edna’s old fez into his waves this morning, and my body thrums with delight.
Ahh, horny pot.
Eve nudges me with a platter of cheesecake brownies which, sadly, I must decline.
“No dairy, remember?” I swat the platter halfheartedly away. “Dr. Rashad has ELIMINATED dairy from my diet. It is ELIMINATED.”
“DELETED.” Graham snatches the platter over me. “FORSWORN.”
“Ugh.” Eve scowls. “I have to make I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter Budder now.”
“What?You canna bis-leaf it’s not—” Graham yelps midsentence as Eve squirts him with a water gun, straight in the face. “Aww. You got my brownie wet.”
The dairy elimination diet is the first of many measures I’m trying with Dr. Rashad to address the underlying sources of my chronic gut inflammation. It’s a frankly rude way to begin a relationship, but I love the way she sends me research articles to support her cruel interventions. I’ll give up cheese for science. Fornow.
“Look, it’s starting!” Eve sits up as the high school color guard appears, the marching band’s colonial drumbeat and piccolo morphing unexpectedly into a Sabrina Carpenter song. “God, I love parades.”
Graham’s eyes widen. “Maybeweshould build a float next year for the dispensary.”
“Ooh, I’ll make a reminder to do the parade registration!” Eve starts dictating the reminder on her phone, which is nowhere to be seen. Because Unicorn Piss.
“The registration…” I yank my wrist to my eyes, but I haven’t worn a watch in twenty years. “Fuck!It’s due today!”
Eve frowns. “For next year’s parade? That’s intense.”
“No, the LLC’s quarterly report!” I groan, running my hands down my face. “There’s a late fee if you miss it.”
“They’re making youlabor?” Graham asks, indignant. “OnLabor Day?!”
I lurch out of my chair. “I’ve gotta submit it now. Grab me when the weird honking starts—I don’t want to miss Julian!”
I stumble inside to my office. It takes a full five minutes to remember how to access the NJ Secretary of State’s corporate filings portal.
Because again, Unicorn Piss.
Bleary-eyed, I don’t feel so blissful now as I try, and fail, to find my corporate ID number. Finally, I search by my building’s address instead.
Twoentries appear. There’s Stranger Drugs, but weirdly, our Main Street address pulls up a second LLC, too.
I squint at the screen. Am I doing this right?
Yes, there’s definitely a second business registered to this address.JM Enterprises, LLC. I sit back in my office chair. JM Enterprises. The stack of packages I need to return stares at me from the corner. Are those… I scramble up and check, andyes—they’readdressed to JM Enterprises!
But who would claim this address, and why? A weird, nervy feeling coils in my belly as I click onJM Enterprises, LLC. It leads me to their registration page, which shows their status as inactive for failure to file. Was JM Enterprises the other business vying for the lease? My heart pounds as I click on the documents tab and bring up the Certificate of Formation. It’s short and bare bones, but there at the end, it lists the directors. Each name lands like a punch.
Wilson Phillips.
Jacqueline Lombardi.And… and…Michelangelo DiFiore?
After Wilson and Lombardi, I wassurethat last name would be Tonuto. I frown at the screen, trying hard to understand. Unless… is Mike Tonuto’s real last name DiFiore, like Sammy’s? Theyarehalf brothers, and didn’t Sammy say his dad adopted Mike?
