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“That can’t be all it is,” my dad said, coming back from their little bedroom area in a pair of jeans. I took a second to be thankful that he’d at least been wearing boxers when he’d let me in.
“I think it is,” I said tiredly, letting my mom sit me down at the table. “They’re working at another shop now and they’ve been telling customers that they left because Coffee Now is a health hazard.”
“Huh,” Dad said, sitting down across from me. “I don’t know, baby girl. Seems like customers would take it with a grain of salt.”
“They probably did,” I mumbled as mom got us each a beer. “But then people started talking about it on the community pages and it took on a life of its own.”
“I hate that fuckin’ thing,” my dad replied in disgust. “Just a place for assholes to bitch about each other.”
“It used to be, the neighbors would just bitch to each other until they’d worn themselves out,” my mom said dryly. “Now they’ve got a whole fucking audience.”
“I’m not sure how I’m going to fix it,” I said quietly, taking a sip of my beer. “How do you prove that you don’t have mold and rats and shit? Take pictures? Invite customers inside?”
“Just don’t get into it on the community page,” my mom warned. “That’ll just add fuel to the rumors.”
“I know,” I said in frustration. “Do you have any idea how hard it is not to call people liars? Some of them are saying that they saw shit when they came through. Uh, no, you didn’t. That never fucking happened.”
“That’s why I don’t have any social media,” my mom said with a laugh. “I know that I wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth shut. I’d be fighting with people all day long.” She shrugged. “If I want to see someone’s shit I just sign in on Callie’s accounts.”
“Smart,” I said with a nod. My dad was quiet, but I knew he was paying attention. I knew that expression. He was thinking, looking at the problem from all angles as he figured out a solution.
I was just grateful that we finally knew the problem and actually had something to fight against.
“Ignore it,” he said finally. “Ignore all of it.”
“That’s your solution?” my mom asked flatly.
“If you’d let me talk,” he said, looking at her in exasperation. “We’re gonna rebrand you.”
“Rebrand her,” mom said, unconvinced.
“Yep,” dad said, smiling comfortingly at me. “You were already plannin’ on movin’ to the new location. We’ll just move up the timetable. You’re gonna finish out the week, then we’ll move the cart Friday night. Bring it here, change the signs, paint the outside, get her all spruced up. Monday mornin’ you’ll be in your new spot with a new name, in a shiny as shit cart, drawin’ people in.”
“You think she can just change the name?”
“I think that people have short fuckin’ memories,” Dad said. “And as long as no one keeps stokin’ the fire, the talk will die out. They’ll be talkin’ about the old name on the community pages—that cart is no longer there, it’ll quiet down.”
“You really think that will work?” I asked in disbelief.
“I do,” he said, nodding. “Hell, Charlie, I bet half of the people commentin’ on those bullshit posts haven’t even been to your shop. They just wanna be in on the action of tearin’ someone down. Once Coffee Now is gone, they’ll shut it.”
“Unless someone mentions that I’ve moved the cart and renamed it,” I muttered.
“You should advertise that you have,” my dad said, leaning back in his seat with a grin. “New place, new look, new name, new drinks. They’ll be crawlin’ all over you to see what you’ve done.”
“This seems like a Hail Mary,” my mom said with a laugh. “But I kind of like it.”
“Doesn’t stop those girls from badmouthin’ the new place though,” my dad said thoughtfully.
“Oh, I think I handled that,” I said, my lips twitching. “I called their boss.”
“Oh,” my mom’s mouth dropped open in awe. She toasted me with her beer bottle.
“Narc,” my dad joked.
“Hey now,” I said defensively. “Mal gave me his number for a reason—I just didn’t realize I’d actually need it. All I did was ask him to make it known that they weren’t allowed to badmouth other businesses.”
“Did he say he would?” my mom asked.
“He was a little reticent—”
“Good word,” my dad interrupted.
“But he said he would.”
“Nice,” my mom said, nodding.
“And then,” I grimaced. “Bishop showed up with one of them tonight, and when we kicked her out of the house I’m pretty sure we got our point across.”
“He did what?” my mom yelled.
“Bishop,” my dad said, pointing at mom. “That’s who you’re killin’.”
“They’ll never find the body,” she replied darkly.
“I don’t want you to kill him,” I said in exasperation, leaning down to thump my head against the table. “Maim, maybe.”
