Port Aston

ONE

The June humidity began to fall on Port Aston. Which meant all the tourists and summer stayers were slowly filing back into town. "Summer stayers" is a term the locals use to refer to the wealthy folk of Port Aston who only live here in the warmer months. I can't blame them, Port Aston was basically the place to be during June-September. Honestly, the majority of New Hampshire was. It was one of those towns that didn't even look real. It was just too perfect, other than Homeless Pete who resides in a cave down the beach. It was littered with big, dramatic beach houses lining the coast and its fair share of various seafood restaurants. The downtown was quaint, with unique small shops and boutiques making up the bulk of our small beach town. Along with the market, an auto mechanic shop run by none other than my Dad, a few other odds and ends stores, and three too many ice cream parlors that was basically all of Port Aston. Not including the normal houses us commoners lived in. They were still nice homes, don't get me wrong. Most of them were painted funky colors, like: yellow, peach, blues, you name it. They just weren't nearly as extravagant as the coastal mansions, but still walking distance to basically everything. Which was awesome for me because my lilac beach cruiser is my main source of transportation.

At this point, I think I was panting. The heat skyrocketed this week, leaving the air heavy and sticky. Certainly not bike riding weather but I had to get to work somehow. I was on my way to "Lilian's Tots and Tees", a posh, trendy, children's clothing boutique. It was insanely overpriced and most of our clothes were washed out and boring. But white women love a baby in beige these days and honey, we got beige. It was borderline baby abuse if you ask me, I mean what kind of kid wants to be dressed head to toe in a potato sack?

Rounding the corner to the shop, the literal last person I wanted to see was standing outside. Lilian herself, arms crossed, looking way more pissed than usual. Lilian had owned this joint since the 90s. We get pretty steady business, but summer time is when the ball really gets rolling. That's how it is for the majority of the shops here in Port, tourists and the seasonal dwellers really help rack up the funds and foot traffic.

"You're late," she snapped as I rolled up to her. "Again."

"I know, I'm real sorry Lilian it's just—" I started but she held up a perfectly manicured hand, cutting me off.

"Just that you have to ride your bike all the way from the south end. I've heard it a million times, Ruby. Do you know what I have to say next?" Lilian narrowed her eyes at me, or tried at least. She was a beautiful woman, or at least I think she was; before she got all that work done. Don't get me wrong, I am all for a tip and tuck but I think Lilian let it get to her head, literally. Her skin was almost too tight, she couldn't quite make actual facial expressions which worked in my favor because it made her way less intimidating. Her eyebrows were always at a high arch, narrowing into her piercing blue eyes. Lilian's graying hair was almost always slicked into a tight bun, when it wasn't it was because she was hungover. Which was usually about two times a week, I could imagine the tension of that hair do would only increase a hangover headache. Lilian was one of those wealthy beach house owners I had mentioned earlier, but she resided in Port year round. Mostly to boss us around and make days harder.

I sighed, "that I should leave earlier to account for my slow pedaling."

"Correct," she smiled, standing a bit straighter. "Now come in, I have some things I need to discuss with you and Claire."

My brain flooded with all the possible things Lilian wanted to talk to us about. A raise? Is the shop closing? Am I getting fired?!

Claire was behind the counter, going through a box of small headbands we must've gotten in. Claire was definitely one of my favorite people here in Port. She was a year older than me, just finished her freshman year at University of Maine. I had to practically beg her to come back here for the summer, I really missed her while she was away. Claire and I share what I would consider a trauma bond. Working here for the past few years has made us really close, nobody else would understand what it's like being one of Lilian's henchmen. She was a short little thing, barely hitting the five foot mark but she was certainly mighty. Her long brunette hair was always perfectly curled and she always wore long sleeves to work, even in the summer months. That's because last year she got a really bad tattoo. According to Claire, it was Mexico, she was drunk, and she woke up with a "it's is my life -jovi bon" tattoo right on her forearm. Lilian was a very... traditional woman and while she would probably be disgusted with Claire getting a tattoo in general, this one might be firing worthy. Ridiculous, I know but it's not like Claire would want our customers to see it anyways. With our clientele they'd definitely have some snotty comments to make about it. Anywhere outside of work though she wears it proudly. Well, proudly might be a stretch but she certainly wears it.