Shelly's Arc

Chapter 7 of 12

Shelly hung up the phone and stared at the wall. The soda supplier was the loudest cancellation, but not the only one. By late morning, her ice vendor left a message asking to "revisit terms." The towel service wanted a call back. Two food carts had gone quiet. Word traveled fast in a small desert town, and Malcolm's move on the soda contract had spooked every small operator on her list. None of them would recommit without something binding on paper. Opening day was nine days out. Shelly drove to the cine-rent with Esther in the passenger seat. Fat Tony was on the porch again, sandals off, watching the heat shimmer. Shelly laid it out plain. She needed a drink supplier who would not fold when Malcolm called, and she needed amenities that would not vanish overnight. Tony listened, then tapped his chin. "Drinks is easy, mon. You got a man across the road who runs a bar and owes nobody. Bo. I send him over." Esther cut in. "I'll handle the amenities side. Duke still has crews sitting on their hands between builds. He owes you nothing, but he owes me a favor from last summer." Bo showed up an hour later in his hat and vest, thumbs hooked in his belt. He walked the empty drink stations and the cantina bar, tapping taps and checking lines. "Shelly, darlin', I can run house sodas out of the Grove till you find a proper supplier. Small-batch, my recipe, my kegs. You pay cost plus a nickel a pour. I'll sign a ninety-day lock right now so your vendors see it's real." He pulled a folded page from his vest and set it on the counter. Shelly read it twice. It was clean. She signed. Duke rolled in behind him with three of his sand-surfers and a truck full of folded cabanas, rental boards, and stacked towels from the dune camp storage. He leaned on the tailgate and grinned at Shelly like the three years between them were a joke he was still telling. "Chief, we got you covered, ya? Shade, towels, lockers, board rental for the wave pool. My crew works the amenity stalls opening week. You feed us. We sign for the run." He held out a short contract Esther had drafted in the truck. Shelly signed that one too. By afternoon, Shelly had Bo's signed drink lock and Duke's signed amenity run in a folder on her desk. She called each spooked vendor back with the papers in hand. The ice vendor recommitted within the hour. The towel service dropped their concerns. One food cart still walked, but the other stayed. The bleeding stopped. Esther stood in the office doorway with her arms folded. "You've got drinks and towels for opening. You do not have a soda supplier past ninety days. And you now owe Bo, Duke, and Tony in the same week." Shelly closed the folder. "I'll count the debts after the gates open." She looked at the wall calendar. Nine days. Her staff roster was still half-empty, and every name on it worked for someone else first.