“The older one is Theodore Graham, better known as Think Tank. He’s retired, but he was a household name back in the day. His son, Patrick, played for Pittsburgh. They’re from Austin, apparently.” Lynn Louise sniffs. The only thing worse than being from Austin is being from new Sheet Cake.
Val’s elbow finds my ribs, and Winnie tugs at my sleeve. I feel their stares lasering into me and pretend I am impervious. Meanwhile, I study my coffee mug, where the remnants of a clearance price tag cling to the side. I pick at the sticky rectangle, hating how it just won’t go away. If I weren’t feeling so stressed out and panicked, I’m sure I’d see a metaphor there.
“Isn’t that the feller you used to date, Lindy?” Eula Martin says, and all eyes in the room swivel to me.
Before I can formulate an answer, Winnie jumps in to save me. “I think Mayor Whitehead left town!”
Thank you, Winnie.
“When’s the last time you saw him?” Lynn Louise asks.
“Four days ago.” Winnie is the mayor’s secretary.
You couldn’t pay me enough to work for the man, who is about as smarmy as the Waters family. But jobs here in Sheet Cake are scarce, and Winnie has a mountain of student loans. And until her accountant boyfriend, Dale, proposes or she sells her app, she’s pretty much stuck working for the mayor.
“He was behaving strangely. More so than usual,” Winnie adds.
“Strangely how?” Judge Judie asks.
Winnie rolls her empty shot glass between her fingers and grimaces. “He gave me a tip. The money kind, not the advice kind. Not that I wanted either one,” she adds in a low mutter that makes me and Val snort.
I’m not going to ask Winnie where the mayor left her the tip. If I had to guess, the lecherous old jerk tried to put it down her shirt. Though if he had, I think Winnie would have slugged him. Despite her petite size, she can pack a punch. During college, she played roller derby, if that says anything about the amount of fight in her.
That’s what happens when your dad names you Winchester after his favorite rifle. Her older brother goes by Chevy, short for Chevrolet, their dad’s favorite car. In a twist of irony, Chevy drives a Ford. Their mom used to joke if she had one more kid, he or she would have been named ESPN.
Judge Judie’s lip curls, clearly disgusted with the mayor, not Winnie. “You’re his secretary, not a waitress.”
“There’s a number written on the bill,” Winnie says. “I think it’s a phone number.”
Winnie pulls a twenty out of her wallet. Hopping up, she passes it to Judge Judie, who passes it to Lynn Louise and then gives it to Ashlee.
“Did you try calling this number?” Lynn Louise asks.
Winnie snorts. “Not a chance.”
“Smart girl,” Judge Judie says.
Ashlee pulls out her phone. “I’ll call with it on speaker. Winnie, would you mind being the one to talk to him?”
“If I have to,” Winnie says, getting to her feet again.
I give her an encouraging pat on the back as she gets up. Val smacks one side of her butt like a teammate wishing her a good game. Winnie barely even notices, cracking her neck like she’s preparing for battle.
The phone rings twice, and then the mayor’s obnoxious voice booms through the speaker. “Doll face! Is that you?”
Winnie bares her teeth. The only reason Mayor Whitehead keeps getting elected is that no one cares enough to run against him. That, and the Waters family backs his campaigns. The Waters aren’t just loaded; they’re oil-money loaded and as slick as oil too.
“My name is Winnie, sir.”
“Sure, sure. Are you finally ready to join me in my tropical paradise?”
The silence in the room intensifies, and confused glances abound. Tropical paradise?
“You still there, doll face?”
Winnie shifts on her feet. “Again, it’s Winnie. And I’m here.”
Mayor Whitehead laughs. “I’d rather you be here, sweetcakes. I’ve saved a place for you. Right in my lap.”
Ew! The faces in the room mirror my disgust, and Big Mo looks like he’d happily be set loose on the man. Winnie’s expression turns hard, and Ashlee touches her arm, shaking her head as though to calm her. Winnie takes a few deep breaths before speaking again.
“Where are you?” Winnie’s voice is strained with the effort of being cordial. “What tropical paradise would that be?”
“My new place,” the mayor says. “Nothing but sun and sand and surf. I can’t share the details, but I’ll happily send you a plane ticket. Then, I guess, the secret will be out.”
Winnie’s cheeks have flushed from pink to red and her hands are in tight fists in front of her. “When will you be back?”
“Oh, I’m not coming back to that miserable little town.”
I may not have ever planned to end up living in Sheet Cake again, but even I take offense to his words. And what about his wife? Winnie seems to be on that same track.
“What about Mrs. Whitehead? Your wife?”
Another chuckle. “She’s off at some knitting convention. It’ll be quite the surprise when she gets back home and finds out I’m gone and have left divorce papers ready to be served as well. I sold the town for a little nest egg.”
At this, several people at once seem to forget we’re trying to be silent, because there are multiple people yelling at once.
“You sold the town?”
“He owned the town?”
“You can’t sell a TOWN!”
Lynn Louise starts banging her gavel, and the room goes silent in a hurry. Not quickly enough. Ashlee shakes her head. “He hung up.”
Winnie returns to us. “I feel like I need to bleach my brain and my ears.”
Val practically throws herself over my body to give Winnie a hug. “You did good, Winnie. That guy is such slime.”
“Total slime,” I agree.
“The slime slugs leave behind,” Winnie says with a shudder.
“But it sounds like he’s gone now,” I say.
Val returns to her normal spot. “Good riddance.”
“Except for the whole part where he’s my boss. Do I even have a job if the mayor is gone?” Winnie asks.
It’s a solid question. One of many being voiced all around us.