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“You really do skew every memory, don’t you?” Lauren shook her head. “We both tried out for shortstop, Syl. How do you suppose that I stole that exactly? I guess it’s really true what they say. The thief always thinks he’s getting robbed.”
The use of her old nickname tossed Sylvie off balance, defying her anger in the process. Before she could recover, a tall blonde in a Pastry King tank top sauntered toward their booths pulling a beach wagon full of supplies. The sight of oat milk reignited her contempt.
“Hey, babe,” the blonde Sylvie had seen around a few times called for Lauren.
Lauren’s face softened into an unrecognizable expression. Relaxed happiness.
Turning away from Sylvie, Lauren greeted the woman. If someone held a machete to her throat, Sylvie would have to agree the woman was objectively attractive.
With an eye roll, Sylvie checked her phone. In a few minutes the event would open to the public. She couldn’t wait to be too busy to notice Lauren.
“You look so cute in your little t-shirt,” Blondie said as she wrapped her arms around Lauren’s neck.
Zero decency. You’re at a work event — not a bordello.
The sound of kissing turned Sylvie’s stomach. Desperate to drown it out, she darted for the espresso machine to make herself a drink.
Like driving past a car wreck, Sylvie couldn’t help glancing at the booth next door. It was worse than the year she got stuck next to the woman who made art from drier lint. They were both gross, but at least the lint was strangely fascinating.
“What time do you think you’re going to be finished?” Barbie asked as she sat cross-legged on the huge marine cooler on wheels. With her eyes on her phone while Lauren worked alone to put away the things in the wagon, Barbie continued unperturbed. “Melissa wants to try that new oyster bar on the river. I told her we would meet her, but she wants to make a reservation.”
She’s allergic to shellfish, dumbass.
“I have to be back so early tomorrow,” Lauren replied with much more patience than Sylvie expected. “I don’t think I’ll be up to going downtown tonight.”
Sylvie shook her head before sipping her espresso. Lauren shouldn’t have to remind her girlfriend how exhausting it was to spend twelve hours on her feet while working in the heat. At the end of the day all anybody wanted was a shower and to relax. Especially when they had to do it all over again the next day.
In response to Blondie’s real-life pout, Lauren cocked her head to the side. She stopped working and cupped her cheek. “Why don’t you go without me? You two always have a good time.”
Whatever happened next between Lauren and the ungrateful brat, Sylvie couldn’t hear. One of the artists displaying his wares appeared at her booth with an order for a dozen café con leches. She didn’t have time to watch Lauren’s pathetic dating life, and she shouldn’t care anyway.
