Page 70 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
But where…?
Daisy scanned the hall, looking for an exit that would not take her past Peter Perry or his circling cronies. With one arm looped around Candace’s waist, the other raising their clasped hands high, Daisy spun them around an out-of-step conga line. Candace’s panicked pleading reached her ears over the music.
“I swear, I didn’t know! Please, believe me. I don’t want anything to do with him or his—”
With a gentle squeeze, Daisy assured her, “Fuck him. I’m getting you out of here, princess.Left!”
They made a hard pivot to avoid dancing into Vinny Lamarka’s line of sight. In a far corner, Daisy caught sight of her favorite pimply bartender coming back inside from a service entrance. She led Candace through the pungent haze of a recently smoked joint, onto the music pier balcony.
Outside, it was like a whole different world. Sound from the party muted as the door shut behind them. They were at the furthest end of the building, near the looming shadow of one of the many major bulwark concrete columns that supported the whole place. Wind whipped around them, punctuated by the harsh, successive slaps of the waves breaking beneath the pier.
Arms crossed, Daisy leaned back against a column facing the dark expanse of the sea. Candace did the same. It was hard to tell how long she had been crying. But, fast, silvery streaks fell down the woman’s cheeks. Her words were labored.
“I’msosorry, Daisy. This is all my fault. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Gently, Daisy knocked their elbows.
“Hey now, remember? Let it be and ride the sea. It’s not the end of the world. You can tell him to shove it, and we’ll—”
“I can’t.” With furious swipes, Candace removed her tears. Steadier, she explained, “He said he’ll throw everything he can at ruining Bagel Bombs! if I don’t start working for him Monday. Not just the physical location, all of it—the brand, our online presence,you.Everything your parents worked so hard for, that we tried to fix, he’ll ruin becausenowI’m useful to him. Or, maybe he was planning this the whole time, waiting for us to get nice and comfortable before he pulled the rug.Fuck!”
Daisy flinched as Candace slammed a fist against the concrete. When she went to do it a second time, Daisy stopped her. With care, she worked the woman’s balled fingers through her own. Their eyes met in the low light.
“What do you mean ‘useful to him’?”
She let loose a growl of a breath.
“There’s a conservative investment group he’s been trying to catch the eye of for a while. Apparently, they never saw him as Godly enough to sink their money into… until I gave him the idea to play up a family partnership. They loved that, especially after they heard all about how hesavedme.”
Daisy snorted but was not the least bit amused. “Those types do love a good fake sob story.”
“They do. And it’ll all be for show. I doubt he’ll even give me any real work. He’ll just stick me in some closet. Again.”
“Screw that. We’ll lawyer up if we need to.”
Candace shook her head. She pulled her hand free and clutched it to her chest.
“This was a mistake. I’m sorry. I just got so obsessed with the idea of being the hero, of beingyourhero, I didn’t realize how much worse it would be if I got involved. You were right. I really am the worst kind of garbage.”
Daisy felt the word as if it had been aimed at her. How could she have been so wrong?
“I should have never said that. You’re not garbage. You’re…”
Daisy trailed off. In her mind, she sifted through the pieces that were labeled “Candace.” The old ones, dusted off and seen in a new light… The oddly shaped ones that now seemed to fit… The ones from the present, so spectacularly shining…
Daisy told her, “You’re sea glass.”
“I’mwhat?”
Kicking off from the column, Daisy retrieved a dirty wine glass from a bus tray by the door. She smashed it against the side of the building and picked out a few shards. Showing them to Candace, she said, “Look. It’s been broken, so it’s sharp and dangerous. It gets tossed away and ends up drifting, lost at sea. Then you know what happens? Over time, the edges get worn down. They smooth and, before long, you have…?”
“Sea glass.”
“Treasure,” she corrected. “Someday, someone is going to pick these pieces up. To them, it’ll be treasure.”
With her hand extended over the high balcony rail, watching Candace, Daisy let the shards fall into the sea.
“That’s littering,” the woman admonished with a wry tilt. She peeled from the column and approached the railing like a wary cat.
