Disclaimer: I do not own Hart of Dixie

THE FISH INCIDENT

It was 7am, and Wade was working the breakfast rush at the counter of the Rammer Jammer with a pot of coffee in his hand and a towel thrown over his shoulder. Lemon breezed in, her hair in a bun, wearing flats and a pale yellow floral print dress, heading for the office. Wade glanced up from refilling Wally's cup.

"Hey, Breeland, you gettin' any?"

"Not today, Wade, I have too much to do."

Wade grinned at Wally. "That wasn't an invitation."

THWOCK! The bar towel hit Wade squarely between the shoulder blades. He winced. "Hey, that was wet!"

"Girl's got an arm," Wally remarked.

"Speed and accuracy, Wally, serious heat," Wade agreed.

"She ever on the softball team?"

"Nah, cheerleader. Football."

Wally sipped his coffee. "She hot in high school?"

Wade snorted. "She was George's in high school."

"That didn't answer my question," Wally eyed him slyly.

"Yes it did," Wade smiled at him broadly as he stood up, "and besides, don't you have a home to go to? Oh, that's right, your wife…"

"She says she's not ready for me to retire, so I got to find something to do, and before you say anything, no I am not interested in the Rammer Jammer, been there done that 24-7 for half my damn life…anyway, I think I just need the right opportunity…I can't just continue to sit on my assets."

"Well, good luck with that," said Wade, walking back into the kitchen looking for Lemon, but when he saw her nose buried in the books and order receipts in the office he thought it best not to tease her until after lunch at least, so he turned around and went back out to schmooz with the customers at the bar.

It was 10am on the dot, Wade remembers because he heard the opening jingle of a network radio news broadcast from somewhere just before it happened, when Lemon let out a screech from the kitchen.

"WADE, COME SMELL THIS!"

Wanda swears Wade was up out of his chair in the dining room, over the bar and into the kitchen faster than you could say 'what the hell was that?'

"Lemon," Wade stage-whispered as he stood panting in front of her, "RULE NUMBER ONE, never, ever say 'Wade come smell this' ever again, under any circumstances, even if your life depended on it, especially in the kitchen where people can hear you."

"The place is practically empty," Lemon said, fluttering her free hand, dismissing it. In her other hand she held a slab of catfish, which she thrust at Wade. "Smell this."

Wade smelled it. It smelled fine. He said so.

"It's not right," Lemon shook her head, "I can tell, I have a sophisticated nose, I think this is day old catfish, and I am not paying top dollar for day old fish…CHARLENE, we'll have to do something with this fish, we can't fry it, that's our signature here, we need something else." She set down the fish, wiped her hand on a towel, and began to pace.

"We can talk to the wholesalers," Wade said, "but they're in Mobile if we was to do it person, and I've got the beer comin' in right after lunch."

"That's Presley, isn't it? I imagine you'd want to take care of that yourself," Lemon smiled as Wade gave her a hurt look. "Never mind, I can take care of the wholesalers, if I leave right away I can be there and back before dinner." She turned and started to walk away, then turned back. "What, exactly, is it that I'm doing?" She had a sudden look of pleading on her face that made Wade stifle a wisecrack and consider for a moment before speaking.

"Take some cash with you, say, two thirds of the fish bill, tell 'em you were born and raised by the Gulf and you know day old catfish when you smell it but you figure it's just an honest mistake so you're here to settle up, in cash, to make sure it doesn't happen again. Offer half, see what he says, be prepared to pay whatever you take. Keep smilin', this is just business, but if he's a cute guy, well, you can suggest…"

"I will do no such thing," Lemon huffed.

Wade held up his hands in surrender. "All I'm sayin' is you should use the tools God gave you. Come on, you're Lemon Breeland, you know how to get men to do what you want…and," Wade leaned close and whispered, "you can always give them that 'Scary Lemon' look and freeze their bones so you can drag them away and eat them later."

Wade cackled as Lemon slapped him, hard, on the shoulder, turned, and left.

"Poor bastards won't know what hit 'em," Wade muttered to himself with a smile as he went back out to the bar, where he found Wally gesturing for him to come down to him.

"Wade, Wade, can you do me a favor?" Wally said urgently, holding up his coffee. "Can you smell this for me?" Then Wally started to laugh so hard he had to set the coffee cup down so he wouldn't spill it on his pants.

Late that afternoon, Lemon came walking through the door of the Rammer Jammer with a smile on her lips and an easy swing to her walk. The day shift was gone, and there was a lingering aroma of something exotic in the air. Lemon sat at the bar and ordered a Jim Beam, straight up, from Wanda who had come over to chat.

"Wanda, what is that delicious smell?"

"Fish curry that Charlene made, today's special, sold out, I mean that's about all we served, people couldn't get enough, you know all that fish from this mornin'? Gone. People loved it. Exotic Lunch Day at the Rammer Jammer, Charlene's thinkin' of Thai or Japanese next week."

Lemon nodded with a half smile and took a sip of her bourbon as Wade walked out of the kitchen.

"Hey, partner, hear about lunch? Great idea!"

Lemon just smiled at him. "Charlene's idea." She shook her head slightly.

"So, how did it go with the fish guys?" Wade asked.

At that Lemon smiled broadly and downed the rest of her drink. "I don't think we'll be having any more trouble about the fish." With that she stood up, nodded goodnight to both Wade and Wanda, and started out the door.

As Lemon got about halfway there, Wade called out softly, "Hey, Breeland, you gettin' any?"

Lemon just laughed and wiggled her fingers over her shoulder at him.

Wade turned to Wanda. "I'm gonna take that as a definite maybe."