Page 25 of Puck Daddies
“Fees?” Marisol asks again.
“No fees. Just do your thing. If you want to donate a percent, great. If not, keep it. I’m just glad you’re here.”
“You’re a good egg,” she says.
“A busy egg.”
At six fifty-five, Anthony flips the sign to OPEN. We let them in in batches. Aqua checks for the event post at the door and reminds everyone about the no-phone rule. The speaker pushes out a playlist Bex made. Low volume. Upbeat. Just like us.
Women come in, shake off the cold, look around, and smile. They get drinks. They browse honey. They pull out cash for the tip jar without being asked. They ask vendors questions. They shout greetings across the room. They look like they needed this.
So did I.
I station myself near the espresso machine. I pour honey lattes, pass drinks down, answer questions.
“Meg,” a woman says, “you did all this in one day?”
“I had help. And adrenaline.”
Another says, “Saw his post. That was gross.”
“Thanks for coming. This isn’t about him. We’re raising money, not blood pressure.”
Aqua steps up to me between orders. “Crowd count?”
“Sixty. More coming. Fire code is ninety-nine. We cap at ninety.”
She nods. “Copy.”
At seven thirty, I climb onto the stool and take the mic. The room settles. “Thank you for coming. Tonight is Heat & Honeys Ladies’ Night. It’s women-only and trans-inclusive. Thank you to our vendors—Patterson Park, Charm City Honey, Twin Oaks, Bee Good. One hundred percent of drink sales goes to Save the Bees. You can donate directly with the QR codes at the register. If you see a phone up for anything but QR codes, Aqua will lower it.”
I continue. “We’re doing this because bees matter, small businesses matter, and you matter. Also, because we like to throw a party on short notice. One more thing. Next week we’re hosting a fundraiser for the animal shelter on Fourth Street. It’s Thursday night. Live music, candle pop-up, donations at the door. We’ll post details tomorrow. If you want to help or donate, talk to us after.”
Hands go up. “Can we bring blankets?” “Can you take food donations?” “Do you need volunteers?”
“Yes, to all of it. We’ll post a list.”
Applause rolls through the room. I step down, and we go back to service. The vendors sell steadily. The tip jar has to be emptied to make room for more. People laugh. Some ask what happened online. Most don’t. Most make a point of telling me they love Bea’s. I say thank you each time and keep moving.
That’s all we can really do, isn’t it? Move on? Luke is my past. The truth is, he was my past even when we were together. I was just waiting for something to come along and shake me loose.
Bex pulls me aside around eight fifteen. “We’re at five hundred for Save the Bees just from drinks. Vendors are moving product. QR is getting hits.”
“This is exactly what we needed.” Kind of like hooking up with my best friends. All day and all night, I’ve tried to put that thought out of my mind, and I’ve done a decent job of it. But right now, I wish they were here to celebrate this win with me.
At eight thirty, I get back on the stool. “Update. You’ve already raised five hundred dollars for Save the Bees on drinks alone. Thank you. Vendors are donating five to fifteen percent of their sales tonight. If you want to give more, the QR is still live. And again, next Thursday we’re doing the shelter event. The shelter needs food, blankets, toys, and cash. We’ll have a list on the post tomorrow.”
A voice from the floor calls, “You singing?”
I squint. It’s someone who’s been in twice a week for years. “Trust me—no one here wants that. But there will be live music. And candles.”
“Hot hockey player candles with naked labels?” someone else shouts.
“No.” I keep my face straight. “Local beeswax. Sorry to ruin them for you.”
There’s laughter. Aqua smothers a grin.
I move through the room, thanking vendors, reminding customers about last call, pointing to the QR code. Aqua makes a round and reminds people we close at nine for a reset. At nine sharp, we flip the sign. The last few attendees finish drinks, buy one more jar, then head for the door. The room quiets the waya room does when a lot of bodies leave at once. A lot of them wait outside as we finish cleaning and getting ready for the late crowd.
