Down And Out In Flamingo Beach. Marcia King-Gamble

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      As Joya came up the walkway she spotted Deborah and LaTisha, both looking somewhat put out. They sat on the porch step, gazing out onto the street.

      “We’ve been waiting for hours,” LaTisha pouted.

      A slight exaggeration. Joya had only been gone for maybe an hour.

      “You’re late for work,” Joya said, not cutting them any slack. “If you’d been here on time I wouldn’t have had to lock up.”

      “It’s payday. We need our money,” both said in unison.

      Deborah stood, stretching. “You owe us for two weeks plus this week.”

      Joya had been prepared for something like this. She had the feeling these two had been getting away with murder for quite sometime.

      “You haven’t worked this week,” she quickly pointed out.

      “I did,” LaTisha hastened to say.

      “Half a day and barely,” Joya countered. “Let’s go inside.”

      The business could remain closed for another fifteen minutes while she did what she needed to do. She was going to make an executive decision and not consult Granny J.

      Joya was betting both women were minimum-wage employees. She did some rapid calculations. What was left of the proceeds of this morning’s sale would barely cover two weeks’ salary for both ladies, and if she were to give them another two days’ pay as a token, it would pretty much clean the business account out.

      But the afternoon was young and she was counting on selling the remainder of the sale items plus a few new ones. She unlocked the front door and allowed both women to precede her in. Then she locked the door behind her.