bread crumbs

CHOP SHOP: a short story

"Are you really sure about this? It seems pretentious," asked Tabitha as she peered over at the laptop, her head resting on Priscilla's shoulder. She loved Priscilla, she really did. She just always stretched white lies too far, across the color spectrum into black deceptions.

"It's not like anybody will ask about the artisanal wine and cheese tasting. It makes the brochure look good," answered Priscilla. She didn't know much. She didn't know the digits of Pi or how gravity worked. But, she did know one thing: people are too scared to ask questions. Except for Tabitha. She asked too many.

"What about the "locally handcrafted beds, custom made to fit any body?" Tabitha said. Tabitha abhorred liars. Deceit had this way of sneaking back up on you when you least expected it, like a ghost of unforeseen future. It made her feel queasy. Still. Here she was, hopelessly in love with the best liar in California.

"It shows we support local businesses, obviously," replied Priscilla, finality evident. With that, she printed the brochures and expertly displayed them on the counter.

Everything was slightly out of place at the P&T Bed and Breakfast, just the way it should be. It was a conglomerate of favorite things. Each room was named after a flower. Roses plastered the walls in the kitchen, daffodils lined the den, and tulips hung from window boxes in the master bedroom. Old apothecary books and pressed petal coasters covered the coffee tables. There was a slight film of dust everywhere, but nobody could tell where it came from.

When Quincy entered the building, it reminded him of his grandmother's apartment, reeking of stale candies and rosehip tea. While the scent was far from desirable, it was comforting. Quincy longed for comfort, especially now. This was supposed to be the weekend that started it all. He was to return home with a fiancé, a thousand dollars, and a story to tell his future children. Instead, he was stuck on the outskirts of San Francisco with an expired Groupon, a discarded ring box, and one hell of a heartbreak. He took a deep breath before approaching the desk.

" I have a reservation. It should be under Adams," he said.

"Yes. Party of two. Is your other member joining us?" Tabitha asked.

Quincy gulped. His hands shook. His lips parted, only to close again. The words were coming too fast before. Now they wouldn't come at all.

"No," Quincy whispered, shocking himself. This was his life now, all "no" and "I", never "yes" and "we."

"Alright. What about the form of payment?" Priscilla said.

"You see, I have this Groupon, but it's expired. And, I'm a bit down on my luck right now, so I can't 'pay 'you, per se. I just need somewhere to stay," he pleaded.

The pair of women conferred for minutes. Phrases like "poor boy" and "squeeze out a living" flew like fairies. But in the end, Tabitha won. Quincy was staying.

"Seeing as we've decided to honor the Groupon, you will be using the Deluxe Lover's Package, correct?" Priscilla said.

"Do I have to? It's just that I'm not exactly in the lover's frame of mind, especially a deluxe one," Quincy admitted.

More hushed arguing ensued. The pair's words grew sharp, no longer about hotel finances. With each syllable came a dual-edged blade. Tabitha had a severed heart. Priscilla had several lacerations to the neck, and a win. Quincy honored the Deluxe Lover's Package.

Priscilla handed Quincy a brochure. He was to look through the pamphlet and pick any two activities he wanted. This was a tough decision. He didn't want a "romantic candlelit dinner on the beach" or a "sultry couple's massage." The only thing he wanted wasn't a thing at all. It was a person, and she was fourteen miles across the bay, dating her college professor. He, overdramatic as ever, welcomed death. Although, a wine and cheese tasting didn't sound too bad.