decent thing about it. The building still reeked of smoke from three decades of Salems, Lucky Strikes, and Pall Malls. The décor retained that ’60s vibe, Danish modern minimalism meets the Jetsons, from the curved bright orange bench seats to the scoring tables accented in pale teal to the odd placements of the decorative spindles throughout the space.
A standard feature in a bowling alley was the shoe rental counter, where the casual bowler paid three bucks to rent the most hideous-looking shoes known to mankind. Here, the entire area and all the shoe cubbies had been upgraded to carpet. Too bad they hadn’t upgraded the shoes themselves. There were maybe . . . fifty pairs total, from the 1950s if my estimate was accurate.
Sam and I explored the men’s and women’s locker room areas with twin expressions of horror. There was one bench in the center of each of the rooms. We couldn’t get ten kids in here at one time, say nothing of the one hundred and fifty we were expecting.
But at least there were bowling balls of every weight and color everywhere we looked.
The restaurant had closed years ago, and in an effort to be more family friendly, the previous owner had sold the liquor license. The only food available was from the ancient popcorn machine—which I was pretty sure used the same oil for the butter topping that the janitor used on the bowling lanes—plus jars of Tijuana Mama hot meat sticks and even bigger jars of gigantic dill pickles. And the soda machine wasn’t working.
No food. No drinks. No place to change. I had the sinking feeling that my first solo LCCO project was about to be an epic failure.
Amidst self-recrimination that I should’ve prioritized this project among the twenty other irons I’d had in the fire the past month, I was sorely tempted to send out an SOS to Aunt Priscilla, Aunt Selka and my mother. But as far as I knew, none of my other family members had been bailed out. I was competitive enough that I would not throw in the towel and ask for help.
I could fix this. With LCCO funds at my disposal, I called in an industrial cleaning crew. Pay the emergency fee and a dozen men will show up in thirty minutes.
Luckily Sam had hired four food trucks for Saturday, so lack of kitchen equipment wasn’t a problem. Actually, everything he’d been tasked with was done. I was the one with no follow-through.
That’d been a favorite taunt from my grandfather. Second born, second string, second best—you’ll coast through life and let everyone else pick up the slack. There’s a word for that boy, and it’s lazy. That’s what you’ll be known as: No-Good Nolan, the lazy Lund.
Even if I dropped the ball sometimes, I was always the first person to pick it back up and run with it until I crossed that goal line.
Another perk of having the last name Lund? Businesses wanted our business. I put calls in to two sporting goods stores and within three hours Rosewood had one hundred new pairs of bowling shoes in various sizes. Not only that, the manager promised to drop off a banner with the store’s name as a proud sponsor of the event.
Because the cleaning crew had needed six hours to finish, Sam and I didn’t get started setting up the registration tables until eight o’clock. I sent him home at ten and I locked up at eleven.
Now today was the big day. I thought I’d vanquished all my nervous energy yesterday, but it was right there waiting for me first thing when I pulled up to Rosewood Bowling Alley.
Fortunately, so was Gabi.
My double take at seeing her must’ve been funny because she laughed so hard, she almost dropped the coffee she’d brought me.
“That was definitely worth getting up early for, Lund.”
“Speaking of early . . . you don’t have to be here for another hour.”
“I know. But you seemed really stressed yesterday when we talked. I thought I’d come early to see if you needed extra help.”
That was thoughtful of her. I loved that she showed me her sweet side. “And extra caffeine?”
“That too.”
I ambled closer to her. “I think you missed me.”
“Yeah? You’re the one who’s stalking me like a big jungle cat right now.”
“Guilty. Are you afraid I’ll pounce on you?”
“No.”
“Then hold still.”
She blinked at me, but she didn’t move.
Interesting. She’d worn her hair in a high ponytail, allowing a clear view of her face. I ran