Wyne pov:
I pat my damp hands on the cotton apron tied around my body, the knot at the back fixed safely.
The sink is still running rapidly, even though I pulled the knob down multiple times already.
It's still broken, like I suspected.
When will anyone fix it?
Not even I can tell, it's an endless loop of hot water splashing down onto the sink ground.
It's been like this for a week, and no one has said a word about it, as if it's too much of a bother to call the plumber. Most of us have silently agreed not to talk about it, because even if the bills begin skyrocketing, we can't do anything about it. All our efforts would be a waste of time.
But I try one more time for good luck, but also to feel a bit of weight off my shoulders. I pull it up and down frantically. Yet the pressure doesn't change. It continues to pour down like Niagara Falls.
I sigh out an overworked breath, turning and walking away, but I don't fully give up.
If no one wants to say anything, I will.
I have to be the hero who decided to step up to save this bakery from going into more debt.
I will most definitely toot my own horn at the end of this.
I stride over to the cashier's table with an overwhelming amount of confidence in all my steps. I bend over and scribble down the problem on one of the note blocks. Before folding it two times, two times for luck.
I ignore the customers as I run past them, out to our so-called "Problem" Box. An invention created by Veronica so that we don't rely on her for the Broken things, but in all the time it's stood there.
My hands tense up right before I put it inside.
This won't ever reach Veronica, will it? Most likely it won't. She, our boss, couldn't care less about our problems until we made it hers.
Regardless, I muffle out a curse, but throw it down the open slit in the box.
Then the bell from the church begins to toll, vibrating as it moves back and forth. Even from all the way here, everyone can hear it. It's annoying and impractical.
Imagine trying to enjoy a coffee after a long day at work, only to then be greeted with another alarm clock.
Well, that's over now, and I need to go back to work.
My very important work.
Great idea, Wyne, spending your break writing a stupid complaint that no one will look at.
I pull myself together with encouraging words. "You are doing great." "Don't give up, Wyne," or "You will make it!" I play those exact words from my mom repeatedly until I feel happy enough to continue, knowing I won't make it without the praise.
God, I miss her already. Her words of encouragement, her care, and her love for me. I miss every last bit of it.
Awkwardly, I adjust my glasses. Then I go back inside, again ignoring the customers in line or at the table.
Especially those that call my name. Nothing against them. I am just not being paid to handle their rants or anger today or tomorrow.
Still, the bakery is basically empty, another off-peak day. It feels almost eerie to see it in this state, so dead and soulless.
Even though it's become a frequent occurrence lately. No customers are around, and even if there are, it's a small portion. Very loyal fans.
No wonder, though.
We are in a small, more dangerous part of town, wedged into a secluded alleyway.
Having to find customers is by definition a struggle.
But I am not going to lie, it makes my job ten times easier, but for that, my paychecks have been getting cut.
"It's all out of budget", Veronica says, while she parades around with Gucci.
God, I hate her.
She already made 70% of the staff quit, and now I have to pick up their slack. The others can remain in their usual position, but because I have been working here the longest, I should know everything.
I start kneading the resting dough needed for our special, putting in the fire, hot anger coursing through my veins. This was supposed to be Maria's job, but she quit yesterday spontaneously.
Using my palm, I pull the dough away, then back in, rinse and repeat.
To cut corners, I sprinkle in some flour. Something I learnt from my mom.
Then I continue until the dough gets to the right consistency. Finally, I roll it back into a ball, then place a cover over it to let it rest some more.
I slump back onto a chair in the back, exhausted. The chair is out of wood, making it uncomfortable to sit on. A bit of shifting around gets me a decent position that doesn't hurt my back.
There was so much going on, and I can barely concentrate on the task at hand, the air feeling disgustingly hot, sweat sticking to my body.
Everything feels disgusting and prickly today.
"You good? We got another order of two croissants. He wants them "well done"?" Angelica looks back at the receipt in hand. Confused, she crumbles it up into a ball and puts it in her back pocket.
"Thought well done was only for actual food. I couldn't tell you what that means in this context. Just do what you always do, and I am sure he will enjoy it."
I snap back to reality, bolting to stand straight as a ruler. How didn't I realize she entered the room?
"Two croissants, got it," I sputter out and, like a robot, immediately begin forming the croissant shapes.
"You know, he's sorta a cutie," Angelica says with that voice. The voice that was trying to get me to do something I would never do. "Why don't you hand him the order… I am sure you could get his number."
I scoff loudly, making sure she hears the annoyance in my tone. "No, Angelica. I won't go on another date. I have school."
I don't even need to look back to know she's pouting. I throw the first croissant in the oven, then the other one, dusting the remaining flour off my hands.
I didn't like the dating scene. It is a competition of how much you show off on the first date. Nothing that interesting for me personally, because I have so much more in life.
Angelica is the type to date around before settling on someone for a while, only to go back to dating around.
Of all things, I am not calling her a hoe. I could never. She acknowledges it herself as a habit, a routine, and I can't blame her.
"No, I swear this time it's different. He gives me a soft vibe, I mean, just come out and look for yourself." She chimes in, walking over to my table. The light in her eyes tells me she's being one hundred percent serious, and she doesn't look like she will falter.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I am not interested." I roll my eyes, my answer coming harsher than I expected.
Slowly, I start making another batch of dough with the same ingredients for future croissants. The noise of the oven humming as the croissants back catch my attention every few minutes.
"Your loss, but still handing the croissant, since my shift is over." Angelica shrugs, a grin spreading from ear to ear.
I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" I ask, very much confused about why it's my responsibility, while tucking that one annoying strand away from my face.
I turn my head to look at her intensely, trying to make her understand my situation.
Her eyes narrow into slits with her lips pressed together. A sign that she's thinking about something, which is also a sign that I don't want to know what it is.
"Y'know I have a family meeting, so…" Angelica states, winking at me.
The room falls into silence as I can't find the words I am looking for.
Since when did she get approval to leave early, and why wasnt this communicated to me?
I was planning on studying for my exam for tomorrow, but if Angelica wasn't on the clock, then I'd have to pick it up.
I force my own eyes shut as a torrent of emotions floods through me.
"See you next week then." That's all I muster up, burying all my emotions back down with a gulp.
____________________________
"Two croissants and nothing else, correct?" I ask, walking over to the table.
Only one person is sitting there, and he's completely clothed from head to toe in black. Not to mention the aura being emitted by him tells me he clearly isn't someone to be messed with. All I can blame is our location in this shady part of town.
I place down the plate, grabbing one of the chocolate tubes from my holder. I drizzle an appropriate amount of it, making a heart in the middle like our signature.
And to finalize the act, I put on a smile. A smile that was taught to us when we were training.
At first, he doesn't look up from what ever hes writing down on a notepad, but I don't give up.
"Is there anything wrong?" I tilt my head to the side, ensuring my words sound completely innocent.
Yet again, nothing.
We stay like that for an awkward 5 minutes. No one is changing.
Until I question him for what feels like the 10th time. He glances up at the food, yanking it and taking a bite like a beast being starved.
I am stunned, but not wanting to make this any worse, I take this as a good sign to leave.
What a weird guy! Angelica must have been high or something. What could she possibly find in such a man!