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“I’m not interested in looking for Anita.”
“Who’s Anita?” The sound of Tillie’s voice makes me jump, and flyers work loose from my arm, sliding to the ground.
Pete snickers, leaning back against a white pole like he’s ready to watch a show.
“Nobody,” I say, leaning down to pick up the pages, then realize both hands are occupied with coconuts.
“I’ll get them,” Tillie says. She has a paper bag stampedEff the Bozos, the name of Mom’s candle business, but she slides the handle over her wrist and chases after the loose flyers.
Anya returns. “Hey!”
“Hey?” Tillie straightens the stack and takes the rest from me.
“I’ll get those,” Anya says, accepting them from Tillie. “I’m the one putting them up. I didn’t call you the hottie drinkslinger, though.” She holds up a hand. “That was all Mendo. I’m Anya.”
“I’m Tillie. And it’s fine. Whatever sells drinks for Gabe.”
“A keeper!” Pete booms. “Am I right or am I right?”
I hold up the coconuts. “What do you think?” I ask Tillie.
She takes one. “I like it. It’s going to be perfect.” She peers into the hollow. “What if people want the drinks we make? Will you sell them in the coconut?”
“I’ll handle it,” Pete says. “I’ll bring the cart to the condos. If ya get a rush on coconuts, Bodeen and I will start whackin’ them.”
Tillie nods. “Sounds great!”
“I asked for ten,” I tell Tillie. “That should get us started. And Pete, can you slice up a pineapple?”
“Can you keep the outer skin on it?” Tillie adds. “It’s prettier that way.”
Pete nods and pushes off the pole to help Bodeen.
Anya points at the bag. “Whatcha get from Mz. L.?” She winks at me, and I wonder what she saw between Tillie and my mother.
Tillie passes the coconut back to me and pulls out a candle.Fuck Failureis printed in big black letters on the side.
Anya leans in for a sniff. “Ooooh, peppermint?”
Tillie nods. “For focus. And eucalyptus for energy.”
“Mz. L.got it going on. She’s a little bit health nut and a whole lot witchy.”
Tillie breathes in the scent. “She mentioned there were special ingredients to ward off negative forces.”
“Mm-hmm.” Anya hugs the stack of papers. “I’d burn that candle tonight. Maybe you’ll get yourself a lowly assistant in that hunk of manmeat.” She angles her head toward me.
I can tell the comment throws Tillie. She probably thinks Anya is flirting. “I’ve known Anya since we were in diapers,” I say. “And I was potty trained a full six months faster.”
Anya shakes her head. “And who had the accident in Mrs.Perez’s third grade class?”
“Okay, time to check on our coconuts.” I motion my head toward Pete’s stall.
But Anya and Tillie don’t budge. Anya watches Tillie slide the candle back into the bag. “Looks like Mz. L.is favoring you over her own son for the win tonight.”
Tillie shakes her head. “No, it’s for both of us. She wants a big, successful night.”
Anya smooths down the top flyer of her stack. “It’s gonna be lit. I can feel it. See you tonight!” She takes off.
