Ablaze

Chapter 15 (2 of 2)

Harris was taught not to talk with his mouth full, but why stop while he's ahead?

"Ships?" he manages around the mouthful of rice, then grabs the glass of water to wash it down. This isn't the kind of vocabulary one expects out of his dad's mouth. "M-minority?"

"In the comments on her podcast about her engagement to this British guy. I'd say thirty percent."

Harris doesn't need to ask whose podcast it is. "Thirty? That's identical to the success rate you purported to have with my dates on Tinder. So pardon me for being suspicious—"

"Fine, maybe not thirty. Maybe twenty. But they're vocal, Harris. And they think Oliver is fishy."

"That he is. But, Dad, Ablaze is not a child, she—"

Sarkisian Senior waves off his objections. "The fans' opinion is just an appetizer. The main course is coming. I have a professional here confirming it. Lonita wanted me to show you this."

"Lonita, the neighbor?"

"Yes, our Lonita. The Detective with the Milwaukee PD."

The grin on dad's face skews to one side with the bravado Harris hasn't seen in him before. No, not bravado. Pride... and he had seen it. When he'd won that chess tournament, that's how his dad smiled. The pang of jealousy is so strong, his chuckle comes out as artificial.

"Really? Well, I'll be damned! A detective?"

"That's right. Lonita, a.k.a the detective with the Milwaukee PD," his dad repeats.

So, he's heard it right. "Wow!"

"Okay, now you're up to speed, Lonita spent her precious leisure time doing us a favor and looking into Oliver."

"Doing you a favor. I never asked anyone to run a background check on the other guy."

Sarkisian Senior pinches his lips and nods his head sagely. "Then you wouldn't want to see this."

Dammit! Of course, he's seen through Harris like his head is transparent! He grabs for the phone, but his Dad moves it slightly higher. They repeat this game until Harris mumbles, "Okay, okay... I want to know what Lonita has unearthed. Please give it to me? Pretty please?"

Once his dad relents, Harris scrolls through the screenshots. Lonita sent them a copy of a chat log from restaurants' reviewing site, a local Yelp! of sorts.

I'd never believe, the poster rants, that Mrs. Ang would sell! The shops did marvelously even after Mr. Ang has passed away, and now it's not the same. The sound of the place is gone.

Harris frowns, lifting his eyes at Sarkisian Senior. He doesn't understand his dad's triumphant grin. It has to do with the food, but still...

"It's just restaurants' reviews. Some guy wants things to stay the same, even his coffee. So what? It happens all the time."

Dad taps his finger on the screen. "Keep reading, you'll see it."

Harris scrolls through a few more messages. They are all in the same key. Praising the incomparable Mrs. Ang and bashing Oliver—which is pleasant, but useless—until his eyes catch the word 'fire'. Lonita even highlighted it in orange for those in the back. Duh!

He grasps the phone tighter.

After those fires in the kitchen, maybe she had no choice but to sell. Once Appleby took over, their safety record was stellar again. So you can't say he's done nothing for the business.

"Fires in the kitchen..." he whisper-repeats the post.

His dad nods so enthusiastically, his salt-and-pepper curls shake. "See? See? Sounds like a racket to me and Oliver needed such a business to lure Ablaze's family into this atrocious deal."