“Watch it, Billy,” snapped Tabby, pulling her attention from her sister long enough to chastise the portly man behind her, who’d been pushed into her back by a bearded man.
Billy swung an elbow into the belly of the bearded man to push him back. “Back off, Frenchie.”
The remaining customers looked over their shoulders at the boisterous group, clearly eager to get their check and leave.
The entrance door opened behind Charlotte and her neighbor, Tilly, entered with a notebook and an unimpressed look. Standing barely five feet tall, Tilly still radiated an air of command, even in her trademark billowing house dress.
Charlotte waved and motioned to the bouncing group. “Hey, Tilly. Thanks for setting this up for me. Did you take over as secretary after Mariska quit?”
“Not for free.” Tilly looked at the group and shook her head. “Everyone else they’ve ever asked to serve ended up dead or refused to come back, so they pay me to do it now.”
Charlotte could see how that would work. Tilly didn’t take guff from anyone. “Why do they look like zombies trying to get into a house?”
Tilly peered at Charlotte from beneath a lowered brow. “They all want head of the table. I’ve begged the place to put a round table in there, but they won’t do it.”
Charlotte chuckled. “They could sit at small, individual tables so each has their own island.”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“But then they might fight about who’s closer to the window.”
Tilly grabbed her arm. “They haven’t even thought about proximity to the windows. Don’t say that out loud again.”
“Deal. Sorry.”
Tilly rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just these meetings get worse every time. Last time they accused me of favoring Penny in the notes because I live in Pineapple Port.”
“Do you?”
“Hell no. I can’t stand that woman. In fact, the line they thought I used to favor her was, Penny shifted and released audible gas.”
Charlotte laughed. “That doesn’t sound like favoritism.”
“You wouldn’t think so, but Jonathan from the Smillages called me up to say he remembered burping and didn’t see it in the notes.”
A flustered-looking man in a suit approached and wedged himself through the Five Family representatives to stand in front of the doors with his arms outstretched to either side.
“That’s Angelo,” murmured Tilly.
Angelo addressed the group. “I’m going to open the doors now. Please make room. Take a step back.”
The crowd did step back, but the moment Angelo turned to open the doors, they shuffled forward again like a single, angry unit.
Charlotte suspected Angelo sensed them closing in, because he flung open the doors and covered his head, twisting tight like a flower at night to avoid being trampled. The five burst into the room to play the most violent game of musical chairs Charlotte had ever seen.
Penny pulled her sister’s arm to spin her like a top and claim the head chair closest to the window. Watching their battle, Charlotte felt a strange sense of satisfaction, having told herself if she could lay money on the event, her cash would be on Penny’s pointy nose.
On the opposite side of the table, the fattest of the three men used his heft to bounce another out of the way, but their collision opened a path for the third man to slide into the coveted seat.
Defeated and sour-pussed, the remaining three dropped into side chairs.
Tilly sighed. “I hope this was worth it.” She shuffled in and took an empty side seat.
Charlotte looked at Declan. “This may have been a mistake.”
Angelo uncurled from his standing fetal position. “Please, no screaming.” Shaking his head, he disappeared into the back.
“I’ll cover your back,” said Declan as he and Charlotte entered the meeting room. He sat in the corner in a spare chair. Charlotte tried to find a logical place to stand where everyone could see her, but with both the table heads claimed, she settled for standing at the corner.
“Thank you all for coming. I won’t keep you long,” she said.
“First, old business,” said Tabby. Her tone implied she was in charge.
“First, old business,” echoed the bearded man at the head of the table in a similar tone.
“Old business,” said the hefty man, snapping his fingers, to demonstrate he was really the one in charge.
“Yeah, sit down,” said a man wearing a polo with The Fairways stitched on his chest.
“Don’t talk to her like that, Jonathan,” snapped Penny. “And keep your people out of our bingo night.”
The man sneered. “Why, are we winning all your crappy little prizes?” Seemingly unhappy with his answer, he shifted gears. “Our people would never go to your bingo, anyway.”
“Yes, they would and they do because you’re too cheap to provide activities for your residents.”
Jonathan leaned across the table. “My residents golf. They don’t need bingo.”
“Old business,” barked Tilly. Charlotte was shocked to see the room settle down to listen.
Now I know who’s really in charge.
Tilly cleared her throat and continued.
“Last meeting, Terra Siesta requested a motion to force Canuck City residents to tip a minimum of twenty percent at local restaurants. Lucien asked me to put it on record the motion offended both him and the residents of Canuck City, and that Terra Siesta were a bunch of mouth-breathing animals.”
Charlotte looked at Declan and mouthed the words yikes. He covered his mouth, but she could see his body shaking with laughter.
The man Charlotte guessed to be Lucian held up a closed fist. “Dees came out of nowhere. Eet is a myth that French Canadians are bad tippers.”
The other four at the table expelled synchronized scoffs.
Lucien stood and poked a finger in
