Her face was already flushing a deep, blotchy red. “This is an R2 zoned district. Commercial enterprises are strictly prohibited. Do you have a vendor’s permit? Do you have a health department rating? Is that unpasteurized citrus?” “It’s free, Brenda,” Big Mike said, picking up a red cup. “Can’t be a business if there’s no money changing hands. It’s charity. I’m a charity case. I’m thirsty.” “It doesn’t matter,” she yelled. “It is a visual blight. A table on the driveway? It looks like a flea market. It looks like poverty.” “I think it looks festive,” I said. “And the sign is very informative.” She read the sign again. The vein in her forehead began to throb. “Pending litigation? Bad vibes? That is slander. That is libel. You are writing lies about me on a placard visible from the public roadway.” “Is it a lie?” I asked innocently. “The vibes are pretty bad, Brenda.” She let out a sound that was half scream, half growl.
She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her phone. “I am calling the police,” she announced. “I am calling them right now. And I am not just reporting a noise complaint. I am reporting an illegal, unlicensed food stall, harassment, defamation of character, and loitering with intent to distribute.” “Intent to distribute lemonade?” Mike asked. “Is that a felony now?” “Go ahead, Brenda,” I said, leaning against the table. “Call them. Make sure you tell them it’s an emergency. Tell them I’m out of control.” “Oh, I will.” She stabbed at her phone screen. “Officer Miller gave me his direct extension. You are done, Jason. You are finished in this town.” She put the phone to her ear. She turned away from us, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk like a lawyer in a courtroom. “Yes, this is Brenda Miller at 405 Maple. I need a unit at 402 immediately.
He has set up an illegal storefront. He is mocking me. He has a sign with my name on it. I feel threatened. He’s inciting a riot.” Mike looked around the empty street. A lone tumbleweed of grass clippings blew by. “Hell of a riot,” he muttered. “Yes, now he’s aggressive. He has a large man with him, a hired thug.” Mike pointed at himself. “Thug? I’m a licensed contractor with a five-star rating on Angie’s List.” She hung up the phone and turned back to us with a triumphant sneer. “They’re coming. And this time you aren’t talking your way out of it. I’m going to have them cite you for every code violation in the book. I’m going to have that table seized as evidence.” “Okay,” I said calmly. “Okay?” She blinked. “That’s all you have to say? You should be taking this down. You should be begging for mercy.” “I’m just going to wait for the police,” I said. “I like talking to Officer Miller. He seems like a reasonable guy.”
