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I wanted to laugh because Tex wasn’t nice to anybody, most especially the customers, but I didn’t laugh because Dream looked crushed.
I also didn’t want Dream to work there, because she had some issue no one understood with Luna, and as noted, she wasn’t very nice to anyone.
We had a good thing going, and it wasn’t that new blood would mess it up. It was that Dream messed everything up. Case in point, she had three children by three different guys, the oldest was barely three years old, and I wasn’t throwing shade. Do you. Live your life. Make your babies. Find your joy.
But she wasn’t prepared financially for any of them, and she kept having them. And in the beginning, she did that while continuing to go to her reflexology appointments and tarot card readings.
At first, she mooched all she could off her parents and Luna, but “all she could” was a lot of time and money, so they eventually got sick of it and that got nipped in the bud.
Now, she got child support and took a couple of kids in at her house for extra cash, as well as ran an Etsy store, selling hippie totes and candles she made, but with three kids at home, I suspected ends weren’t exactly meeting.
I suspected Tito suspected this too, because he was shuffling on his slides over tube-socked feet toward the coffee cubby.
I saw all the girls watch him do this in varying shades of abject horror at the thought he might be going to talk Tex into hiring Dream, because Tito was that guy. If he could help, he did. The end.
“Can you tell him I can only do weekends?” Dream requested of her sister.
Luna looked from Dream, to the coffee cubby, which was probably only twenty feet away, and a direct shot for Dream since Luna was behind the bar, then back at Dream.
“If you give me a recommendation, maybe that crazy guy up front will help me out,” Dream explained.
“That crazy guy’s name is Tex,” Luna shared. “And he’s part-owner. So if you want a job, it’s you who needs to convince him to hire you.”
“I don’t think he likes me,” Dream stated the obvious.
“I wonder why,” Byron piped up.
In surprise, I turned to him.
“Do I know you?” Dream asked Byron scathingly.
“Can’t say why you don’t, since you’re in here all the time, being bitchy, and I’m in here every time you are, sitting at the back,” Byron returned. “But I reckon, the world revolves around you like you think it does, I’m just a blur in the periphery.”
Now in shock, I stared at him.
So did Dream.
And Luna.
Also, Shanti.
I mean, he was right. He was in here all the time. And as such, he couldn’t miss some of the scenes Dream caused (she was a dab hand at that).
Still, him piping up was out of the blue.
“You know,”—he jabbed a finger at Luna—“she’s a cool chick. I don’t get why you’ve got so much attitude.”
“I don’t get why it’s your business,” Dream retorted.
“Because I’m in here every day,” Byron returned. “I don’t know how many times I’ve seen you come in here, dump your kids on her, bum money off her, all while acting like she was patient zero with Covid. It’s not fun to watch, especially since she’s like my kid sister or something.”
Aw!
“You’re just a customer,” Dream dismissed him too.
“The big guy can hear a mouse fart three blocks away, and he’s a huge grouch, but he’s made it clear he cares a lot about these women, so you think you’re winning him over right now?” Byron inquired.
Dream made a face.