One Try: The Thompson Series, #3

By Deanna Cabinian

For fans of Let It Snow by John Green, Maureen Johnson, and Lauren Myracle, ONE TRY is a charming Christmas novella set against a gorgeous Hawaiian backdrop.

When Thompson is home for winter break he finds out the Tiki House, the local hangout he loves to hate, is in financial trouble. Determined not to let one of his favorite places close, he and his friend Johnny concoct a plan to save it.

Thompson's ex-girlfriend is home for Christmas, too…And she wants to help.

What happens when the two get together to try and save their favorite Honolulu dive?

Part romance, part comedy, ONE TRY is about going for it –in life, love, and everything you do. It appeals to fans of Hallmark Christmas movies and novels by Debbie Macomber.

Though ONE TRY is technically the third part of the Thompson Lake series it can be read as a standalone young adult romance novella.

Get it now and start the adventure.

PRAISE FOR THE THOMPSON SERIES:

"One Night breaks away from the normal coming-of-age saga with an intense story of growth and self-discovery that's very highly recommended for mature teens and new adult readers alike." -Midwest Book Review

"Thoroughly enjoyed this quirky cast of characters and the setting." -I Got the Books

"I really LOVED it!" -I Speak Bookish

"Charming, pitch perfect, laugh-out-loud funny!" -Lauren's Crammed Bookshelf

*****

BOOKS IN THE THOMPSON SERIES:

-One Night (2016)

-One Love (2017)

-One Try (2018)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timpi Publishing
• Release date: Nov 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781540131829

Book preview

Chapter 1

My phone rang as I stuffed some socks and underwear into an overnight bag. DON’T PICK UP, my mind said, as the number flashed at me.

My stomach sank, but I answered anyway.

Thompson, how are you? It’s Javier. From Super K?

I’m good, I said. I cradled my phone between my ear and shoulder and shoved a t-shirt into my bag. What’s up?

I wanted to know if you’re busy this weekend? I assume you’re coming home for the holiday?

Kind of, I said. My plan was to eat as much turkey, stuffing, and sweet potato casserole as I could on Thanksgiving and for as long as the leftovers lasted afterwards. There was also a lot of TV time on the schedule, and possibly beach time with Ronnie as well.

Well, Javier said, I was just wondering...is there any possibility, any at all that you would be willing to work on Black Friday?

I squeezed my eyes shut. One-hundred percent no.

Thompson? You there?

I’m here, I said with a sigh.

I know it’s not the most desirable day to work, but I can pay you double.

Double my hourly rate?

Yes. We’re also ordering in pizza for the employees, as an added bonus. A couple cheese, some with toppings. Whatever the team wants.

I zipped my bag shut. What about free beverages? The one Black Friday I’d worked—after which I’d vowed never to work Black Friday again, not if my life depended on it—Javier had opened up the vending machines to dispense whatever we wanted, no questions asked. Of course I had taken some snacks for the road afterward: about five packs of M&Ms, several packets of those cheesy peanut butter crackers, and six bottles of red Gatorade.

Consider it done, Javier said.

How long is the shift?

As long as you want it to be.

Okay. I want a ten-hour shift.

You got it, he said. I’ll see you at six p.m. on Thanksgiving.

My heart skipped a beat. What now? I thought you said Black Friday?

He clicked his tongue. You know people. They like to go out after they eat. They wanna get the Black Friday deals before the day actually hits. I need you on Black Friday, too. You’ll get a few hours of rest time in between of course.

I clenched my teeth. Fine.

You’re the best, Javier said.

I hung up and shoved my phone in my pocket.

That sounded like it went well, Ronnie said. T-dubs ’bout to make some Benjamins.

I shrugged. I guess.

You need some cash to take Charlotte out anyway.

I looked at the floor. I don’t know about that. Charlotte and I weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but we weren’t not boyfriend and girlfriend either. We liked to spend time together but I hadn’t kissed her yet. And technically we hadn’t even gone on a date. I wasn’t ready to get into a relationship at the moment. And she was a year older than me and we worked together and...it was complicated.

Ronnie laced up his red high tops. You ready for this party?

Yeah. Kenny and his roommates were having a Thanksgiving-is-almost-here-let’s-get-toasted party.

Can I just say I’m glad you started working at the paper? Ronnie said. Who knew all this free booze would be involved?

I certainly hadn’t. When I’d filled out the application to be a reporter at the Western Star, Hawaii Western University’s newspaper, I was just looking for something to fill my time. Instead, I’d met an interesting cast of characters who liked to party like it was the end of the century every weekend. I didn’t always go to Kenny’s house on Saturdays, but if I didn’t have anything going on I went. Charlotte and I usually went together or met up there.

Ronnie and I cut through the quad to get to the parking lot. The sun was down, but it was still almost eighty degrees out. Unfortunately, the ocean breeze couldn’t be felt from campus.

I started the car and let Ronnie control the radio. He picked a slow jams hip-hop station. We swung by Hamilton House to scoop up his girlfriend Stephanie and then went to Kenny’s house. We’d learned our lesson over the past few months and showed up an hour and a half after the stated start time. The townhouse Kenny shared with Harold and Tony, two more of my colleagues from the newspaper, was nearly full when we got there. The bassline of a pop song pulsated through the floorboards. A rainbow disco light spun around in the living room. The table in the kitchen was full of bowls, most of which contained various forms of junk food: puppy chow, cheesy tortilla chips, regular tortilla chips, and pretzels.

Thompson Lake, how the hell are you? Kenny slapped me on the back. The rimless glasses he usually wore were absent.

Did you get contacts? I asked.

Of course. Trying to look more like Barack and less like Ben Carson.

I don’t think Obama would wear that shirt, I said. His t-shirt was white with black lettering that said SMART ASS on it.

Well, you don’t know Barry like I do. Have a drink. He reached for a bottle of beer and thrust it at me. I gave it to Ronnie.

Don’t mind if I do, he said.

I made my way to the snack table and found Charlotte. She lowered her purple glasses down the bridge of her nose. Thompson Lake is partying on a Tuesday. Do my eyes deceive me?

No, I said. I’m here. I plopped down in the seat next to her and grabbed a handful of puppy chow.

Got any big plans for Thanksgiving?

I told her about working the Black Friday shift at hell on earth, aka Super Kmart.

That sounds like the worst time ever.

Oh, it will be. What about you?

She told me she’d be helping her mom prepare dinner for her giant family. Charlotte had six brothers and sisters. My Thanksgiving would just be me, Mom, and Dad like it always was.

What’s your favorite side? she asked.

Probably the sweet potato casserole. It’s basically a s'more with a side of sweet potatoes. Our sweet potato casserole was made with brown sugar, cinnamon graham crackers, marshmallows, and enough butter to clog my arteries twice. It was topped with squares of milk chocolate and was the only time Mom allowed us to put sugar and candy on vegetables. For someone who had a web site devoted to healthy recipes this was a big deal.

That sounds amazing, Charlotte said, nodding. I’m a stuffing girl myself. Who doesn’t love bread and butter?

Right? I ate a few chips and said hi to Harold who had just walked in. Even though he lived with Kenny, he was somehow always late. Do they have Thanksgiving in Greece? I asked. Harold was Greek; both of his parents had grown up there. They’d come to Hawaii when he was three. I’d found that out working late one night at the Star.

They don’t, Harold said, but we celebrate it like we’re from America originally. Mom decorates the house and everything. We have baklava in addition to the pumpkin pie, though.

I’d be down with that.

Me too, Charlotte said.

My phone vibrated against my leg and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was Johnny. I answered it and stood up from the table. The beat of a rap song blared throughout the house, which made it hard to hear.

What’s shakin’, kid? he asked.

Nothing, I said. At a party. I walked into the hallway and ducked into the bathroom so I could hear myself think. What’s up with you?

I have some bad news.

My stomach dropped. Nobody died, did they?

God no. Thompson, jeez. The Tiki House is in trouble.

What does that mean? Someone knocked on the door. Someone’s in here! I yelled.

They’re having trouble paying the rent, Johnny said. Food sales haven’t been good.

Not surprising, I said, thinking of the stale French fries and subpar cheeseburgers the place served. They told you that?

They asked me if I would sell the place for them.

Ah. Sometimes I forgot that Johnny sold real estate for his main job. I always thought of him as an Elvis impersonator, but he just did that to supplement his income. Anyway, he went on, they’re in the hole for sixty-thousand dollars, give or take, and they’re shutting the doors unless a miracle happens.

That’s awful, I said. The Tiki House was where Johnny and I had met. I’d gone there hoping to run into my ex, Caroline, who loved Elvis. I didn’t see her, but had struck up a conversation with him. We’d been friends ever since.

I want to do a special gig to try and raise some money for them. Are you free this Saturday? I could use some help.

I’m working Black Friday eve and Black Friday, I said. But, yeah, I’m free Saturday.

Yikes, good luck with that. Well I’ll be in touch with more details later. Talk to you soon.

Bye. I walked into the kitchen