Page 7 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes

“Your boy needs a saint to fix him, Ed. Don’t put that on my poor Candy.” The group chortled heartily at the insult. Even Ed, despite the tensing of his expression.

Candace took extra long chewing the appetizer that barely needed any. She added, “I’m flattered, really. But with everything I have going on, dating is the last thing on my mind.”

“Oh?” Ed asked with the sharp eyes of a former investigator, “What keeps a girl like you busy if it’s not dating or sun bathing with the girls?”

Candace forced herself to take a breath instead of letting out her snapping retort.

Because of course those are the only things ‘a girl like me’ would be interested in. Ass.

As she took a second breath, her silence gave Uncle Perry room to torment her.

“See,” he added with a devilish grin, “the working-world has been a culture shock for my girl. I tried to warn her that she’s better at spending money than keeping track of it for others, but she’s stubborn.”

The local rotary president, Sal Rocco, ribbed, “That’s the pot calling the kettle!”

Uncle Perry waved him off.

“For me, it’s focus. Drive. When I dig my heels in, it’s because I know I’m going to win. My girl Candy just doesn’t like being told no.”

Candace fidgeted in her chair as the group laughed.

“I was— I am — good at my job.”

Uncle Perry asked, “If you’re so good, why were they so quick to let you go?”

“I… I don’t know.”

To his friends, he jeered, “That’s familiar. The half-brain teens I fire for lighting up in the ride booths say the same thing.”

“That’s unfair. I worked hard to get where I was, and I never stopped. It’s possible I made a mistake, but it was not something my superiors were willing to discuss at my exit interview. If you listened to me, you’d know that.”

The edge in Candace’s voice surprised even her. Discomforted glances were shared around the table. The conversation had turned too personal, too real, even though these people were the ones who had been prying.

Almost imperceptibly, Uncle Perry turned the class ring on his finger.

That ring was the only jewelry he wore, unless one counted his watch collection.

When Candace was a child, he used to turn that gaudy hunk of metal whenever she set off his temper.

Uncle Perry never raised a finger against her, but the threat worked well enough.

Even now, she had to hold back from flinching.

In a gross, patronizing tone, Uncle Perry soothed, “Candy, baby. I’m on your side. I only want you to be realistic about what you can do.”

“Then let me prove it to you.” The words left Candace’s mouth, and she could not take them back. Steeling herself, she barreled forward. “I heard about Mr. Leary. You need someone you can trust to take over the pier’s books.”

“... You… want me to hire you ?”

“Give me a chance to help with the family business. If you find someone else, go with them. But, I promise you, I can do this.”

Candace felt her uncle’s laughter before she heard it. Years of derision, insults laced with levity, made her keen to his moods. As the rest of the table echoed his amusement, she shrank. She tried to defend herself, but her voice came out small and wavering.

“I’m as qualified as any other candidate. I know the pier inside and out. If you just—”

With a handwave, Uncle Perry cut Candace off. He flagged down their server. Gesturing to Candace, he asked the young, nervous teen, “Has this woman paid her bill?”

“Uh… I haven’t closed out your table yet.”

“But will she? A big girl pays her own way, right?”

“Uncle, please…”

Candace wanted to disappear. He loved making her look small so that he could look big. “No. I’ve got this, and whatever else you need. All you’ve got to do is ask, Candy. And you know how I’m able to do that?”

Uncle Perry waited painfully long while his cronies snickered amongst themselves. Candace squirmed, which was exactly what he wanted .

Defeated, she gave in. “I don’t know, uncle. How do you do it?”

“I stay in business, whatever it takes. I make deals and moves. In fact, I’ve started preparations for a massive expansion.

Gift shops, new rides, a resort-quality hotel with a multi-level parking garage…

Millions of dollars in contracts, meetings with multiple banks and investment firms, miles worth of financial documents…

Which means I’m going to find the right man for the job.

Or, hell, I’d even take a woman. If a pierced, tatted up dyke can handle the pressure, they’re in.

Unlike you. See? You can’t even be told no without tearing up. ”

Candace wanted to leave. She wanted to so badly, but she knew it would only make things worse. As long as his money was lining her account, she had no choice but to take whatever he spewed.

Her voice was foreign to her ears as she agreed with her uncle. “You’re right. Yuck. That’s way too much responsibility for me. Congratulations on the expansion.”

From there, the conversation went on without Candace.

She became the pretty background feature her uncle wished her to be.

After ordering herself a mojito from the still-hovering server, she at least had that to focus on.

While she sipped at a drink she was sure had been upgraded to a double, the others offered their well-wishes for her uncle’s upcoming business venture.

“So, it’s all coming together, then? You secured the funding and you got your permits sorted? If not, I know a gal in the planning office who might be able to move some paperwork along.”

The person who spoke, Rhonda Moss, was the only other woman present.

In her early fifties, she’d spent her most early career clinging to a middle management county government role in Wonderwood’s planning office.

She cozied up to her uncle’s ilk and, like magic, she ended up managing the whole department.

If Candace’s spirit weren’t in tatters at her feet, she would have laughed at the small town Deep State they had going on.

Instead, she took a long, loud sip from her mojito.

Idly, she wondered where her uncle was planning this grand expansion.

The pier was already overdeveloped, so he’d have to build a whole new one.

Or, take over half the boardwalk, but both of those options would be crazy.

Her ears tuned back into the conversation as a name caught her attention.

“—few holdouts,” Uncle Perry told them with annoyance. He turned the ring on his finger while he spoke. “Pests, that’s all.”

“Can’t just throw on the ol’ Perry Pocket Change charm and convince them to sell? How much could it cost to buy a couple of tee-shirt shops out?”

“Those were the first ones to fold. It’s the family business that’s giving me trouble.

” He said the term ’family business’ with a sneer that turned gleeful.

“No matter what, I’ll get my way soon enough.

They’re out at the end of the season. No way that bagel bitch can match the terms I’ve set in her lease. ”

At that, Candace could not stop herself from letting loose a dull-sounding, “What?”

That same sneer stayed on her uncle’s face as he answered her with the patience of an adult speaking to a child.

“A lease is something that says a poor person owes someone like me money. I have a very well-worded stipulation in my leases stating that if my tenant’s business doesn’t make a gross profit of a certain amount by the end of the boardwalk season, I am free to terminate our agreement.

It’s going to be a blowout summer for her, just not the kind she’ll enjoy. ”

Candace gaped.

“How… How is that legal?”

By the table’s uproarious laughter, you’d think Candace told a spectacular joke.

Uncle Perry’s lawyer, Vinny Lamarka, was the loudest of everyone.

But, the humor never reached his eyes. Still grinning, he answered, “This is a bit technical, but it’s a breach of confidence clause.

The courts can’t expect your uncle, a businessman, to rent to a failing business. It’s just, well, bad business. Right? ”

“I…”

Candace’s head felt muddled and not from her drink.

Uncle Perry was going to force Bagel Bombs!

to close so that he could have room for another gift shop, parking lot, or some flash in the pan oddity.

Spite was also a likely possibility. He hadn’t liked Daisy DeMarco since that first time they met.

He never made it a secret how he felt about her business being a stone’s throw away from his lofty empire.

So, he would force Daisy to close.

It wasn’t right. It probably wasn’t legal. Yet, Peter Perry would get away with it because his type always did.

Vinny’s attention was fixed on Candace. His expression regarded her like the others, as if she were the token ditzy blonde. His gaze, though, was sharper—daring her to question the legality a second time.

The man was dressed in a plaid button down and tan dockers, plain and casual, as if he bought the outfit off a department store mannequin.

You would have trouble picking him out of a lineup of the other mid-fifties, late Gen X men currently dining on the veranda.

Unassuming, he had an easy smile and was always eager to talk about his big family’s Sunday pasta dinners.

Candace had known him longer than anyone else at this table and knew very well to tread lightly.

He was Uncle Perry’s lawyer, but he was also his fixer.

Through methods legal or otherwise, troublesome business associates and the people who stood in Peter Perry’s way had a habit of kowtowing after a visit from Mr. Lamarka.

If she ever really stepped out of line, she knew he would fix her .

The white hot, angry fire inside Candace shrank to a simmer. She took on an airy tilt, saying, “I understand I’m in over my head with all this boring talk.”

“Good girl,” her uncle dipped his aviators and winked. “Like I said, this is all too complicated for you. Don’t worry. Let me handle the business side of the family, and the good times will keep going. ”

Good times.

The phrase echoed inside Candace’s head, mocking her.

If Candace worked for her uncle or continued to take his money, she was a part of it.

HIS, at the mercy of a reprehensible man’s morality.

Whatever he did with his liability nightmare, money-gouging behemoth—destroying more pieces of Wonderwood history and bullying his way into success—would fall back on her.

Is that what Candace wanted? The grand revelation of a question echoed on repeat inside her head.

“Why don’t you put her on a billboard?” Ed Cando suggested. “A mascot like her would draw in all the boys.”

Mock aghast, Perry told him, “I run a family establishment! We don’t need sex to sell tickets. Although…”

More jokes and ribbing went around the table. Ideas of how the fun pier could age up its attractions, from plausible to cringe-worthy pitches worthy of an early 2000’s exploitation reality show, were met with raucous enthusiasm.

All the while, Candace nursed what might be her last drink in a long while.

She thought of it as such because she’d come to a conclusion.

Tuning out the piggish banter, Candace waited for the brunch’s conclusion.

At her car, she made a show of thanking her uncle for his generosity.

She buttered him up, became the besotted, blithering idiot he wanted her to be.

Then, she retrieved her convertible from the grimacing lot attendant, and floored it back to her motel room.

Candace did not have a moment to lose. She had research to do.

If Peter Perry wanted to make it his business to break down another person, Candace would make it her business to build them up.