Page 16 of Best Friends, Tennessee

“No, no, you stay on those,” Dad said. There was nothing he hated more than the milkshake station. “But learn this coffeemaker afterward. Crowd of people from the car show are going to be rolling in at four-thirty or five o’clock.”

“They don’t sound like the espresso kind of crowd.”

“They like steak and eggs,” he said, “but maybe their kids like the oat shit.”

Danielle snorted. “Don’t call it oat shit.”

“Yeah. Sounds likegoatshit, doesn’t it?” Dad muttered, then both of them snickered, despite themselves.

“And stop calling it a coffee maker,” Danielle told him. “We have plenty of normal coffee makers still, Dad.”

“And God, do I fuckin’ love ‘em,” Dad said, smacking the countertop.

My dad had basically been stuck in 1996 since 1996, and while it was another thing I’d found embarrassing as a kid, now I mostly just found it endearing. At least when it wasn’t holding up a rush in the diner.

Danielle gave me a sympathetic look, putting her long, black hair up in a bun. “Ori, don’t worry about us over here, I’ve got the machine covered.”

“It’s spitting out sewer water! Is the damn thing pulling from the wrong pipe—” Dad was saying now.

“It is not sewer water, it’s just the cleaning cycle,” Danielle said calmly. “It's water with remnants of espresso.”

“I’ll try to learn the espresso machine after my break,” I promised them. I could already hear a young kid screamingI want it!, over and over again, which let me know I was being too slow on the milkshakes.

To say the Red Fox Diner was “red fox themed” was an understatement.

There were framed pictures of Tennessee red foxes on every flat surface of the place.

The little fox logo was printed on all of our red mugs, and the booths were dark red. The pendant lights werealsored. Even thebarstools along the front counter were chrome with red leather tops, and the registers themselves were red, too.

I hadn’t liked all of that when I was a teenager, too, dreaming of fancier, sleek cafés in big cities. But this amount of old-school charm was hard to come by, these days. I’d always liked that the diner was on a corner lot, too—the big windows made for good corner street views and people watching the slow bustle outside.

I’d worked at the diner for two years during high school, part of the time with Finn, and I thought I’d never work here again.

But it was the only guaranteed employment I had right now. I was going to look for local art-related job postings every day online, but it was slim pickings around here.

“Oh, Dani, sweetie,” Mom said as she came behind the counter, carrying a stack of plates. “Did you tell Ori about the new morning baker? His name is Thomas and he is so similar to you, Ori.”

Mom walked into the back kitchen, spraying down some dishes.

I leaned over to whisper in Danielle’s ear.

“Let me guess. That’s Mom’s code for saying that the nice, new morning baker named Thomas isgay, isn’t it?” I asked Danielle.

Danielle gave me a wicked smile. “Sure is.”

“Knew it.”

“You’ll love him!” Mom called out from the kitchen.

I turned back to Dani. “Mom may as well have saidthere’s a nice twink here, and boy, does he really know how to glaze a donut, Ori!” I said under my breath.

Danielle started cracking up.

I finally finished the long row of milkshakes and Mom came out with a fresh tray to take all of them out to the big group booth in the corner.

“We’ve got it now, Dani,” Dad said to her from the espresso machine. “Go home and get Olivia. Babysitter has to leave at four o’clock, right?”

“Four o’clock on the dot,” Danielle said, letting out a sigh. “You think you’ll be okay for the rest of today, Ori?”

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