Page 7 of Believe in Caloosa Springs (Caloosa Springs #3)

Christian

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks,” I allowed my gaze to lower into my coffee cup. I was still embarrassed by the whole ‘having passed out cold in front of a room full of strangers’ thing. I appreciated Oliver’s kind words, but I would have just preferred to never have to think about it ever again.

Who was I kidding ? My traitorous brain was going to play that shit on repeat until the day I died. Just like the banana pudding incident from seventh grade.

I shivered.

“How’s your lesson plan going?” Mandy asked, punctuating the sentence with a snort.

“Fuck you, Mandy,” Oliver replied without malice. “I feel like a complete fool. This was a bad idea.”

Mandy shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. All jokes aside, I think wanting our staff to have a good knowledge of the product they are growing and working with is a good thing. Remember, this is the first time we are doing this. We will tweak and tighten things as we go along.”

Oliver sighed. “Thanks. You’re right.”

“Where’s Ty?”

“Him and Pops are getting the last of that Caloosa Kush cut down from last week’s harvest.”

I couldn’t help a chuckle at the name.

“I thought the temp workers were coming here today to get that done,” Mandy replied, taking a sip from her coffee mug.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Oh, they are. But you know those two. Can’t wait for help to save their lives.”

Mandy laughed. “So, what are they going to do when they get here, then?”

“Line their pockets with our weed like they did last time, I presume.”

“But this should be the last time we call them out, right? Once we get these guys up and going, we shouldn’t need to bring in any outside hands.”

“That’s the goal,” Oliver agreed.

I faintly remembered Mandy complaining about having to hire the temp workers to help with bigger harvests, and what a pain in the ass it had been. Bringing on other static employees was a big step for them, and I really did hope it worked out well. Oliver and Tyler were good people.

“What are you guys up to?” I asked.

“Needed to stop in and get the supply for the back stock before we headed in,” Mandy said.

Oliver nodded, “That’s right. I forgot to grab it before I left yesterday.”

“No worries, you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

Oliver smiled and thanked us both before turning around to rejoin his group of pupils.

I wasn’t sure what he was thanking me for. I just rode along to get some coffee.

The store wasn’t at all what I was expecting. The last time I visited, it was still designed as a bookstore, which was the front the original owner (Oliver’s aunt) had kept up throughout the years when selling pot would land you in prison. When Elaine… Elizabeth? died and Oliver took over, he and Mandy had worked to get the store licensed as a proper dispensary. They had grown like crazy ever since. I was really proud of Mandy. When she decided to stay in this pissant country place once she was a legal adult, I was convinced her brain had turned into mush. I just imagined her sitting on her front porch, barefoot, blowing on a ceramic jug or something.

Glass display cases lined the perimeter of the space, the contents of each immaculately displayed, with accessories and small glass jars displaying different strains and weights of product. It was like the Macy's display windows in Times Square, but for weed. I had been to a lot of dispensaries all over Las Vegas, but this one was simply charming.

In the center of the room, recessed a bit from the entrance, was another large counter with a computer and cash register. Tucked in the corner on the right-hand side, a couple of loungers and two bookshelves were situated.

“Oh, I love this little lounge area,” I told Mandy, running my hands over the fabric of the chairs.

“Yeah, that was my idea. I originally suggested it so Oliver and I would have a place to just chill out for a few after a big day of orders or whatever, but people actually really like it. They come in here and buy some pot, grab a newspaper or a book, and sit over on the chairs for a good two, even three hours some days.”

“Well, I mean, what else is there to do here?”

Mandy snorted and tapped her finger on the computer monitor to wake it up as I plopped myself down and opened my phone.

“Why do you live here, anyway?” I asked as I thumbed through email notifications.

“I hate people, and this is the smallest town I could find that still had electricity and indoor plumbing,” she replied.

“Fair enough, but don’t you get bored?”

“Sometimes.” I heard the cash drawer spring open. “Goddammit,” Mandy muttered after a minute or so.

“Hmm?”

“The cash is 32 dollars short.”

“Uh oh. Somebody’s in trouble!”

“Hardly. Oliver worked yesterday. It’s always fucked up after his days. The boy can’t count to save his life.”

“Good thing he’s the owner, then.”

“Right?” Then, after a moment, she spoke up again. “So, have you figured out what you are doing with your life?”

“Yes, Mandy,” I said sarcastically. “After a day and a half, I’ve completely figured everything out. I’ve emailed you my detailed five-year plan; make sure you check your spam folder. Oh! I almost forgot, I have something I wanted you to look over…”

I lifted my ass off the lounger and dug into the pocket of my jeans. When I pulled my hand back out, I had my middle finger raised high. “Oh, look at that. Look at that little guy right there, isn’t that something?” I turned my hand around a few times in front of my face, as if I was really examining it curiously.

“Fuck off,” Mandy spat.

“What I’m doing with my life is helping my favorite cousin.”

“Flopping down on a chair scrolling through your phone is your idea of helping?”

“I’m here for moral support.”

“Right. Why don’t you morally support yourself across the street and order me an omelet from Cassie’s?”

“Oh, that sounds good!” I got to my feet. “You need another cup of coffee, too?”

“Is that a real question?” she deadpanned.

“My wallet is in your car. Is it unlocked?”

“Here…” Mandy opened the cash drawer and pulled out a 20. “Just take this.”

I looked down at the bill in her hand. “I’m going to get two omelets and two cups of coffee for 20 dollars?

“Yeah. Just leave the change for a tip.”

“How does anyone make any money in this town?”

“Weird when you are so far removed from general society and the ever-lurking tendrils of capitalism, isn’t it?”

“What does that even mean?” I scoffed.

Mandy chuckled. “It means that we have what we need, and don’t need to exploit our friends and neighbors for profit. Cassie can sell a cheese omelet for four bucks because she has 15 chickens in her yard; eggs cost her nothing. She gets the dairy straight from our neighbor's farm about 20 miles down the road for free because Oliver supplies the farmer with the pot for his wife’s glaucoma. It’s a beautiful system that works well as long as everyone remembers we are all here to support each other.”

“That’s… kinda incredible.”

She nodded, “It’s how society is supposed to be.”

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