Crazy Stupid Bromance (Bromance Book Club #3) - Lyssa Kay Adams Page 0,93

table where the commissioners would sit faced the rest of the room. The audience section was mostly empty except for a small cluster of people who looked like city staffers and a lone blond head in the front row.

Karen.

As if she sensed Alexis’s gaze, Karen swiveled in her seat and looked back. Her eyes widened at first, obviously surprised that Alexis had decided to attend the meeting after all. But she recovered quickly with pursed lips and gave Alexis the back of her head again.

A door behind the commissioners’ table opened, and members of the board filed out balancing overstuffed binders, coffee cups, and cell phones. Nameplates in front of each chair identified the board members as they settled into their seats.

Empty seats began to fill up as more people entered the room. Alexis watched the clock and bounced her knee in time with the second hand.

Jessica took her hand. “Remember,” she said in a voice mature beyond her years. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”

The chairwoman’s voice interrupted as she called the meeting to order. The first ten minutes of the meeting were devoted to normal housekeeping matters and a single item of old business left over from the previous month. Alexis began to bounce her knee again as the chairwoman called for the start of new business and recited in a bland affect the details of the complaint against ToeBeans.

“We received Ms. Carlisle’s written correspondence regarding the complaint,” the chairwoman said. “But we will also allow time for her to make a statement and answer questions, if she wishes. We’ll begin, however, with public comment. Is there anyone who wishes to address the commission on this item?”

Karen shot to her feet. “Thank you, commissioners,” she said into the microphone at the podium. “My name is Karen Murray, and I’m the owner of the Long Time Gone antiques shop, which is across the street from the ToeBeans Cat Café.”

Alexis met Jessica’s gaze, and together they shared an eye roll. Karen was using her best I’m just a concerned citizen voice.

“I was, of course, thrilled when Ms. Carlisle purchased and restored the vacant storefront for her café. I thought it was such a charming addition to our unique business district.”

Jessica nearly choked. Karen was definitely putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.

“So please understand that the concerns I address this afternoon and in my complaint are only because I wish to protect and maintain the culture we’ve worked so hard to establish in our district. Our zoning laws were adopted for a reason, and no matter how compelling the reasons, we can’t allow someone to violate those rules. There are plenty of places within more appropriate zoning designations for where Ms. Carlisle could host her yoga class and her little support groups.”

Little support groups. Alexis’s blood pressure skyrocketed at the trivialization of the important connections and healing that occurred every day in her café.

“Ms. Carlisle already received a variance to allow for cat adoptions, which I did not oppose at the time even though I feared even then that the increase in traffic would create a parking problem for other businesses. But this is just a bridge too far, I’m afraid. All I ask is that the commission follow the zoning laws and instruct Ms. Carlisle to stop using her café to save the world and stick to what she’s supposed to be doing—serving food. Thank you.”

Karen refused to look at Alexis as she scurried back to her seat.

The chairwoman thanked Karen for her comments and then looked at Alexis. “Ms. Carlisle, we weren’t expecting you today, but since you’re here, do you wish to address the commission beyond your written correspondence?”

Alexis shook her head. Jessica squeezed her hand. “Are you sure?”

Alexis felt the burn of Karen’s seething glare from the front row.

No. Not again. She was not walking away from this battle. She stood. “Wait. Yes, I do have some things to say.”

Heart pounding, Alexis walked past Karen’s stunned expression to the podium and adjusted the microphone to her height.

“Thank you.” She swallowed and tried to hide her shaking hands on top of the lectern. “Ms. Murray is correct in most of what she said. It’s true that my café has become a gathering spot for survivors of sexual violence and harassment. It’s true that there have been days when customers have arrived in the morning and didn’t leave until the afternoon, but that does not make my café any different from any other coffee shop in the city where students sit for