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He was certain that before the weekend was up, he’d either have a solution or another grand in fines. Madelyn wasn’t going to give up the fight that easily. A part of him would be sorely disappointed if she did.
Emmett could still taste a lingering bit of icing on his lips as he drifted off to sleep. He couldn’t help but wonder if those defiant lips might surprise him and taste just as sweet.
Chapter Three
“I need a Boston Lager and a light beer.”
Emmett looked up at his waitress, Joy Lane, as she flattened her serving tray against the bar top and leaned over to inspect him more closely.
“You look like hell,” she stated matter-of-factly.
He wasn’t surprised that his miserable state was noticeable. It was hard enough to sleep during the day when the world was awake, but this wasn’t just run-of-the-mill day-sleeper drama. It was all because of that woman.
“Are you getting enough sleep?”
At that, he chuckled and poured a beer into a tall pilsner glass. “No, I’m not. I haven’t gotten three consecutive hours of sleep in the last two weeks.”
“Is the crazy cupcake lady still after you?”
Emmett scanned the bar’s patrons, poured the other beer, and sat it on her tray. “You’d better watch what you say, Joy. I know you’re pretty new around Rosewood, but the crazy cupcake lady comes from a big, influential family, and there’s usually one or two of them in here. But yes, Fancy Pants still has it in for me.”
Joy frowned and loaded a fresh bowl of pretzels onto her tray. “Put this on table three’s tab. I’m going to take it to them, then I’m coming back and you’re going to spill about what’s going on.”
Emmett nodded, and her blond pixie head disappeared around the corner. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he thought of her indignant expression. He was glad to have Joy here. She’d been working at the bar since the beginning of the summer. Business was doing well enough that he needed to stay behind the bar, pour drinks, and cash out tabs. Bringing on a part-time waitress had been a godsend. She worked only on
Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, but those were the busiest anyway.
He’d also noticed the men tended to hang around the bar a little longer on the nights Joy worked. He could understand why. Joy was a curvy woman who liked tight jeans and even tighter T-shirts. Her hair was short, but there wasn’t anything masculine about her. There also wasn’t anything sweet or polite about her, either. As she liked to say, she was a sassy Georgia peach, not some delicate southern magnolia. The customers, both men and women, seemed to respond well to her.
He wasn’t sure how long they’d have to chat about his problems, though, since it was a Friday. He expected it to be a busy night. It’d cost quite a bit, but they had a really popular band from Birmingham coming to play. He hoped it would bring enough extra revenue to pay for itself.
And if Fancy Pants couldn’t sleep tonight . . . boo flipping hoo.
“All right,” Joy said as she climbed up onto a barstool. “Spill it.”
Emmett leaned down onto his elbows with a sigh. He hadn’t really spoken to anyone about this. He felt silly about the whole thing, really. He was being childish, reacting so immaturely, but he couldn’t help it. There was a part deep down inside that couldn’t let her win.
“Well, as you know, it started two weeks ago when she called the cops on ladies’ night and we argued the next morning at the bakery. Since then, it’s been a battle back and forth. I paid the punk band extra for a rowdier performance Friday night. At 10:10 exactly, the sheriff showed up and wrote another citation. The next day, she organized a temperance-style Mothers Against Drunk Driving protest across the street. It was like something out of the 1920s with women holding picket signs. They sang and chanted and encouraged cars to honk in support all afternoon while I was trying to sleep.”
“What did you do?” Joy asked with wide brown eyes.
“I retaliated by cranking up the amplifiers on the karaoke system Saturday night and gave out an award for the worst singer. This time Madelyn was quicker. The cops were here by 10:05.”
Emmett watched a few regulars drift in and take a seat by the dartboards. “Then there was the princess tea party parade,” he added in a sour tone.
“What’s that?”
“It’s hard to really describe it since I was delirious and sleep deprived at the time, but apparently, she gathered every little girl in town for a special Disney princess tea party at her shop. They all dressed up as their favorite characters, had tea, and then paraded through the square singing Disney songs at the top of their lungs. They stopped right outside my bedroom window for quite some time. I was personally serenaded by a stunning, off-key rendition of “Let It Go” followed by “Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo.”
Joy brought a hand up to cover her mouth, although Emmett wasn’t sure if it was to cover her shock or her laughter. It was pretty ridiculous. And if he’d slept, he might feel differently, but Madelyn wouldn’t let it rest. During the week, even when the bar was closed, she’d gotten her digs in. She’d managed to have furniture delivered by big trucks that beep when they back up and roar with loud diesel engines and air brakes. And then, for some strange reason, the city decided to jackhammer the sidewalk right outside the bar to fix some waterline.
It felt a little paranoid of him to blame Fancy Pants for that, but he wouldn’t put it past her. With her family’s money and connections, she could do anything she wanted. Mayor Gallagher would probably trip over himself to do whatever that family asked him to, even if it meant tearing up a perfectly good sidewalk.
“That’s why I organized the motorcycle rally last Wednesday night. We had every chopper in a hundred-mile radius roaring in and out of this parking lot all night and there was nothing she could do about it. Motorcycles make the noise they make. It’s got nothing to do with Woody’s.”
“How much have you been charged in fines so far?”
Emmett reached for the drawer by the register and pulled out a handful of tickets. “Twenty-five hundred. Tonight, I’m hoping to make it an even three grand.”
