Sleet Banshee by S.J. Tilly

CHAPTER SIX

MEGHAN

“N

o - trust me, Mrs. Johnson, I know how to handle this. That’s right. I have a much better - and safer - form of entertainment lined up. No, no, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” Pushing through the front door of BeanBag, I let my eyes roll as I hang up the call.

Instead of sounding a chime, the movement of the door opening sets off a small rain stick filled with coffee beans. The sound is nostalgia wrapped up in the delicious scent of roasting caffeine. And just one more reason why this is the best coffee shop in all of Minnesota.

“Hey, Meghan! Looking fabulous, as always.”

“Thanks, Benny. You’re looking hip.” In his favorite pair of tight overalls, I can’t help but tease him a little for being such a hipster.

He smirks. “You want the usual?”

I come in here pretty often. Regularly. Okay, basically every day. BeanBag is just a few blocks away from my office. And by "office," I mean my apartment.

Running my own event planning business means I spend a lot of time on phone calls and computer work, but I spend just as much time meeting with caterers, rental companies, and clients. And since I’m the only employee of Meghan’s Moments, I get to do things however I please. And it pleases me to be surrounded by coffeehouse smells, secondhand furniture, and local artwork. Plus, being in the middle of downtown Minneapolis means there’s always people coming and going. Even if I’m the only person posted up at a table, it’s always good people watching. I do my best thinking when I’m people watching.

“Ya know what,” I say, approaching the counter, “I’m gonna go with a triple shot Fluffer Nut latte.”

“Your wish is my command.” Benny performs an elaborate bow. “Long night last night, or coming up tonight?”

“Both,” I sigh. “I did this haunted house thing last night and nearly died. Then I kept jolting awake every time I’d finally nod off. Freaking Satan Santa flashbacks.” I shiver at the memory. “And the coffee I had earlier is not doing the trick.”

Benny nods as he loads up the espresso machine. “Well, if a triple shot doesn’t do the trick, you could try one of those giant syringes full of adrenaline straight to the heart.”

I grimace. “Hard pass, Benny. Hard fucking pass.”

He shrugs as though it was a serious suggestion.

“Anyways… ” I continue. “I’m working with this law firm to put together a surprise retirement party for one of the partners. The dude’s a huge wrestling fan. Like the TV type of wrestling. You know, Finish Him!” I use my deepest voice to yell the last two words.

Benny raises an eyebrow. “Uh, pretty sure that’s Mortal Kombat.”

“Right.”

“No, Meghan, that’s a video game.”

I look skyward and let out the biggest sigh ever. “Oh my god, Benny. I don’t care.”

He tosses his hands up. “My bad. Wrestling, classic video games, what’s the difference?”

I ignore his sarcasm. “Exactly. So, this old guy likes wrestling, and turns out someone knows someone, and they were able to get The Polar Bear to agree to come to this party.”

“No way! For real?” Benny’s eyes widen.

“Yes, for real. Do you seriously know who that is? I had to Google him.”

It’s Benny’s turn to roll his eyes. “Of course I know who The Polar Bear is. He’s a goddamn legend.”

“Okay, sure.” I shudder. The videos I found online were not what I’d call appealing. In his heyday, the dude’s humongous body was covered in thick body hair that he had to have dyed white. I blink away the image. “Well, some jackass thought that Mr. Johnson, the retiring guy, would love it if The Polar Bear jumped out of a cake and tackled him.”

“Sweet!”

“No, not sweet! You’re just as bad as the rest of those fools!” I hold up one finger. “First, Mr. Johnson is 79 years old... he’s like 130 pounds, and he has chronic heart problems.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” I raise another finger. “Second - you say you know The Polar Bear. Pray tell, how do you suggest I get his gigantic ass into a cake? And come on, no one really does that!” Another finger goes up. “Third. The Polar Bear is no longer in what you’d call fighting form. I saw a recent photo, and - let me tell you - there is not a single person attending this party that wants to see that man in his white fur speedo. I sure as fuck don’t. I enjoy having the gift of sight. And if I see even a hint of his wrinkly dangleberries falling out of their fur sack, I’ll have to pluck out my own eyeballs and set them on fire.”

Benny’s bent over with his forehead on the counter, shoulders shaking.

I continue - “Thankfully, someone told Mrs. Johnson the plan. How these idiots thought they’d be able to pull this off without telling me, the event planner, is a mystery. So, I just got off the phone with a hysterical wife, who’s afraid that this hairy man-bear-cake is going to kill her husband.”

The rain stick starts singing it’s tune, forcing Benny to stand.

He uses an honest-to-god handkerchief to dab away the tears in his eyes. “Seriously, the mental image of dangleberries is going to be seared into my brain now.”

“You’re welcome.” I smile.

He hands me my drink, shaking his head.

Benny goes to help the new customer, and I snag a seat at a table in the corner.

As I fire up my laptop, I think about the brunch I had with Izzy today. She told me all about how much she likes Zach, which is obvious to everyone, but then she went on with all the reasons why she can’t date him. I get it. I do. I’d agreed with the whole no hockey players thing for her, too. She’s the coach’s daughter, so yeah, don’t date the team. But that was before Zach fell into her lap.

She even asked me to help her arrange some dates. She wants to meet someone new to “get Zach out of her head." Like that will ever work. But since setting people up is one of my favorite pastimes, I couldn’t say no.

Of course, I agreed knowing full well that I’d be sabotaging these dates by feeding the info to Zach. Now I just need to find the perfect date for Izzy.

Glancing up, I catch sight of Benny talking to a guy that looks just as young and hipster as he does. I’m pretty sure Benny’s in his seventh year of a four year college degree. He’s fun, chill, and probably has a ton of friends just like him. Friends that would be totally inappropriate for Izzy.

An idea unfurls in my mind. And, oh boy, this is gonna be fun.