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By the time I’m done, Frannie and José are staring - Frannie with her mouth partly-open.
“Fuck,” she says finally. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” I groan, leaning forward in my seat and rubbing the heels of my palms into my eyes.
“Shut up, Fran.” I swallow hard, and then look up at Seer. “So?”
“Well,” she starts. “I think you definitely overwhelmed her.” I look at her over my sunglasses with a face that clearly says “no shit.” “Don’t look at me like that, boss man. If you knew as much you wouldn’t have done it.” She sighs, scooping up a piece of pork butt on a slice of bread and topping it with fresh honeycomb. Ok. I may need to try that one. She takes a bite and chews, seemingly pondering her next response. “If she’s been through that much, she probably has a pretty close knit group of friends, yeah?”
“I think so,” I answer, though it doesn’t sound as sure as I wish it had. I copy her movements on the board, and she eyes me while I take a bite. It melts in my mouth, and I have to keep myself from groaning out loud. She must be able to read my face, because she smiles.
“That honey is from a bee sanctuary down the street from us in Lawrence. We got it sourced a few months ago, haven’t looked back since.” I think she and José can sense my confusion, because she continues. “I developed half the current menus here with this one.” She points to José, who nods appreciatively.
Hm. That one, I didn’t expect. I mean, sure, Seer was one of Frannie’s friends, but not all of her personal referrals turned out to be rockstars. Case and point - Savannah. But as far as I was aware, Seer was a bartender on-site at one of our restaurants. Occasionally, I think she subbed as a line cook.
“My little protege,” José says with a shove of Seer’s shoulder. And suddenly, I feel like I’ve been living under a rock, unaware of anything going on in the lives of the people I care about.
“Don’t let your son hear you say that.” Seer clears her throat, looking around anxiously, as if Mateo may show up at any moment. He’s not working today - I asked before heading this way this morning. “Back to the issue at hand. If she has a tight friend group, they’ve probably been with her through the worst of it. That’s a tough barrier to crack.”
“I’m working on it,” I retort, adjusting in my seat. “I think Carla, her roommate, and I, have at least an amicable relationship.” Seer snorts, and then pauses, looking at Frannie.
“Carla, as in Chloe’s Carla?” Frannie nods. “Hm, small world.” She turns back to me. “Carla is a good start, and will be a good ally in understanding Piper’s particular brand of sobriety.”
“Brand of sobriety?” I echo.
“Everyone’s different,” Seer explains, sipping on her drink. “Paths are different, sponsors are different. And if you’re in the program, the higher power you believe in tends to influence what that looks like. Did she give an indication as to what that might be?” I try to think about anything I’ve seen, or heard, about Piper and religion, but nothing comes to mind other than…
“She’s catholic, I think. Though, I don’t think she practices.”
“Religion is different from a higher power,” she says, and all three of us look at her then. She holds her hands up defensively. “Don’t shoot the messenger, man. Not all of us are religious. You can be spiritual without picking an organized group to associate that faith with.”
This is the most I’ve talked about religion or spirituality in years - and the conversation is starting to make me feel uneasy. I didn’t think it’s come up mostly because Olivia was never particularly interested in anything, and we didn’t grow up in a household that believed in anything besides the Westfall name.
“Did you notice anything at her place? Books, posters - inspirational quotes or anything?”
Her shirt.
“Her what?” Frannie asks, and I blanche, realizing I said it out loud.
“Nothing, never mind.”
“Well now I need to know,” Seer says, half-grinning. I stay quiet.
“Come on, Will. Can’t be that bad.” José smiles encouragingly, but I feel color slowly creeping back into my face as I picture the design on her shirt the other night, and can’t possibly bring myself to describe that. Not in front of him. Not in front of Frannie.
“Spit it out, or I’m not helping.” Seer’s face is serious, and I look between the three of them before pressing my eyes closed and sighing.
“She had this shirt on the other night at her place. It’s the most casual I’ve ever seen her.” I look up at Seer. “Most of the time she’s dressed up, but she was wearing this sweatshirt that had some sort of…tarot card I think. Or something like it.”
“What did it look like?” She asks.
“Uh,” I stutter, and slide down further in my seat. “Well, where it would normally have like a symbol or drawing or whatever, it was an outline of a person - a woman - wearing just underwear.”
José chokes on the sip of coffee he’s just taken, and Frannie’s eyebrows shoot up, but Seer’s face is unreadable.
“And it said ‘good girl.’” Frannie lets out a snort, and Seer, to my surprise, doubles over, her shoulders shaking in laughter for a solid thirty seconds before she sits back up and pulls her sunglasses off, wiping below her eyes.
“Shit, it’s a good thing I’m not wearing makeup.” Seer looks at Frannie, who I can tell is trying really hard not to laugh, but she lets out a cackle that has me wincing. Clearly I’m missing something. “That’s not an A.A. Thing,” Seer says, still laughing. “That’s a kink reading thing.”
“Saoirse,” José chastises, horrified. I have to say, I agree with him, glancing around to make sure no one is paying attention. Sure, in the privacy of my bedroom, I can do with a little kink. But in front of my employees?
