Inferno - Chelle Bliss by Chelle Bliss

Opal’s shoulders sag forward. “I lost my job a few days ago.”

“Oh dear,” Gram says.

“What are you going to do now?” Fran asks.

Gram holds up the bowl of pasta to me, and I take it from her, letting the women talk while I listen. It’s a skill my dad and uncles taught me at an early age.

Opal shrugs one shoulder. “I put in a few applications.”

“What do you do?” Fran asks again.

“Commercial graphic design, specifically social media campaigns.”

“That sounds fancy,” Fran says. “I don’t know anything about social media. I can barely make a phone call, let alone anything else.”

Opal smiles at my aunt. “I love the sense of community it gives people.”

“Are there many openings around here?”

Opal’s smile vanishes. “Not like there were in Chicago. There’re a few, but the pay is low.”

“It’s always best to be your own boss. Why don’t you freelance? Or start your own company?” Gram asks Opal, sounding way more with the times than I thought possible.

“I thought about it,” Opal tells my grandmother as she’s handed a plate of chicken cutlets. “I don’t know many people around here, though.”

“We know everyone,” Gram tells her. “We have a few charity organizations we’re involved with, and maybe you can help us grow those bigger. I’ll talk to a couple of my friends and see what we can do and what we need.”

Opal sits a little straighter. “You’d do that?”

Gram nods with a small smile. “Of course, sweetheart. Everyone deserves a chance to do what they love. Wait, doesn’t Tamara do something with this stuff?”

I love that my gram calls it stuff like it’s something she can’t quite comprehend.

“She does,” I answer. “She does social media marketing.”

“Get those two in touch,” Gram tells me.

“I will, but they’ve already met.”

Opal fidgets with her silverware, unsure of what to say.

“I bet ALFA could use some too. It doesn’t hurt to drive more business their way,” Fran says.

“What’s ALFA?” Opal asks.

“It’s pronounced like alpha, but the guys like the spelling A-L-F-A better, for whatever reason. It’s a security company, and they also deal with private investigations and whatever other shenanigans they can get into. Stone’s uncles own it, and Bear works there, along with my son, Morgan,” Fran explains.

Opal moves the cutlet around on her plate to make room for more food. “That’s too nice. You don’t need to do all this.”

They’re not doing it only out of the kindness of their hearts; they’re trying to make her more of a permanent fixture in our lives. They know I like her and are making it damn near impossible for me to walk away from whatever is happening between us.

Gram holds out another plate to Opal that’s filled with marinated and grilled eggplant. “It’ll help get you started. Having a few clients will lend you more credibility in town. There are a lot of small businesses, and I bet many of them have no idea how to market to the people around here, especially the new residents.”

Opal stares at my gram with her mouth hanging open. “I don’t know if they’d take a chance on me. I’m new and have no experience on my own.”

Fran reaches over and touches Opal’s arm, giving her a sugary smile. “Babe, you need to change that attitude around. You’re the shit. Remember that. People will see you as you see yourself. Look at Stone.”

I’m about to stuff my mouth with a giant piece of chicken cutlet when I stop with my fork in midair. “What did I do?”

“You think you’re the shit, don’t you?” Fran asks, eyeing me with her head tilted to one side.

“I am the shit, Auntie,” I tell her with so much confidence in my tone. I know what I am and what I bring to the table.

“See?” Fran waves her hand in my direction. “You feel it coming off him, don’t you?” she asks Opal. “His confidence.”

Opal gazes at me and nods. “I do. I like that about him.”

“People like that about other people. The business owners won’t know what you don’t know. They’ll be drawn to your confidence. You need to repeat to yourself, I am the shit.”

Opal laughs, shaking her head at the weird pep talk my aunt is giving her. “I don’t think it’s so easy.”

“It is. Put on a good push-up bra, some lipstick and mascara, and go slay all the business owners.”

“She doesn’t need all that stuff,” I grumble, thinking about her looking more beautiful with her tits all pushed out. I would rip any man’s eyes out for looking at her the wrong way or their arms off for trying anything funny.

“Hush up,” Fran chides me like I’m a small child. “She’s got to play the game.”

I shake my head, grinding my teeth. “No games and no push-up bra.”

Gram bites her lip to hold in her laugh. “Men are ridiculous.”

“They are,” I agree with her. “It shouldn’t take a pair of tits to get business. Maybe that’s how things worked in the olden days, but they don’t work that way anymore.”