Creampuffs

Chapter One

"You're not sad?"

Michelle shrugged. "It was just a job. Good people, but I didn't care much about it. I'll get another one."

Dolores settled back, frowning, her eyebrows knitted.

Michelle stared out the passenger window. It was just a job. She'd miss her coworkers, for sure. But there were other jobs. She wasn't worried.

The door pleasantly jingled as Bryan shouldered it open, bearing the tray of coffees. Michelle and Dolores leaned against the Corolla, enjoying the sunshine. Visible through the big plate window-"JAVA JONES" scrawled across it in a hand-painted old-timey script-the barista was wiping down the machines. He noticed and waved; Michelle returned the wave awkwardly, feeling silly at being caught watching.

Bryan handed her a latte, and a cappuccino to Dolores, dismissing offerings of change. "Don't worry about it." He walked to the driver's side. "Everyone good?"

The two women nodded.

"We didn't have to stop," Michelle repeated, then she sipped and sighed.

Bryan opened the driver's door. "You've had a shitty start to a day, the least I can do is buy you a coffee."

"You already are giving us a ride home," Dolores corrected, as she wedged herself into the crowded backseat.

Bryan laughed as though she made a hilarious come-back. "Nice, nice."

Dolores leaned back, puzzled. Michelle paused in her seatbelt ministrations to catch her eye in the rear-view mirror and gave a little smile.

"I've never been in this part of the neighbourhood," Dolores admitted, to change the topic, as they pulled away from the Java Jones. "I stay around the subway stop, where the shops are."

"Actually, yeah..." Michelle paid more attention to the scenery whizzing by. "Where are we going? We've gone past-" She tilted her head to regard her brother, and he had a small secret smile.

"I've got something to show you." Bryan winked. "I was on my way out the door to do a drive-by when you texted me. I thought you might like to come along."

Blinking, Michelle peered over her shoulder at Dolores, who shrugged, sipping from her paper cup. It wasn't as though they had anywhere pressing to be. She settled back into her seat, taking a long draft of her latte. "So where are we going?"

Dolores was the first to find her words. "It's... a very nice building," she said, politely, staring at the peeling paint on the large garage door.

Michelle, for her part, fixated in the sign on the stained metal siding: FOR SALE OR LEASE BY GARY HALEY.

Bryan rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It's a just an old warehouse. It's what's in it!"

Michelle cleared her throat and pointed at the sign. "Um. Is this Uncle Gary's property?"

"Yeah." Bryan investigated the padlocked human-sized door with consternation. "I thought there was supposed to be a key..."

"Bryan," Michelle continued, raising her voice slightly, "What's inside?"

"What? Nothing."

Nothing. "Nothing" was usually a codeword with Uncle Gary, indicating something of vital concern to him-and perhaps certain parties, who may or may not have contained police-and of absolutely no business of anyone else's. Michelle linked her arm through Dolores, gently leading her away from the building and back to the sidewalk. "I don't know if we want to go in there."

"Oh, no?"

"No, maybe not. Sometimes it's better not to know, you know? Less awkward questions later on-"

"Got it!" Bryan cried, triumphantly, getting the padlock free and swinging open the creaky door, immediately disappearing inside.

Michelle grumbled. "I'm sorry about this. I didn't know he'd be doing a detour to a skeezy warehouse."

"Oh, that's okay," Dolores replied, smiling, patting Michelle's hand. "You know, if I had just gone home, I would be sitting on my sofa, feeling sorry for myself. This is better."

They both laughed.

"True," Michelle agreed. "Me too, probably."

"I thought it was just a job?"

"It was. But there's still a shock, I guess."

"Hey! Are you guys going to come and see or what?" Bryan held the door open, grinning. "Come on!"

"He's like a little boy," Dolores remarked, as the pair headed towards the door. Michelle privately agreed. She released Dolores's arm to step over the threshold to the interior.

Her eyes adjusting to the darkness, Michelle peered around, secretly disappointed no mysterious package waited for pick-up, but also relieved. "...it's a warehouse."

Bryan tilted his head, puzzled. "Well, yeah. What did you think it was?"

"I..." She trailed off, holding out her hands. "Uncle Gary?"

"Oh." Bryan had his fists on his hips, surveying-the dusty beams of light from the upper windows, the dilapidated old staircase to the small second-floor office, the rusty pair of barrels in one corner-as though beholding lush and unexplored jungle. "Yeah, I could see why you'd be worried. But nothing like that here. Just a warehouse."

"Super." Michelle did her own 360 slow-twirl, taking in the dusty and tetanus-laden details. "So why are we here?"

"Because I'm going to buy it," Bryan replied, grin sliding onto his face. "I'm going to open my own gym."