52. The Hot Guy Gets Covered in Flour
52
The Hot Guy Gets Covered in Flour
You
The chilly, early October air rushes down around you as you head for the bus stop on your way to work. It’s late, late enough that you’re lucky the bus that goes by the cafe is still running.
Although…it only comes by every half hour. That means you’re stuck huddling on the hard little bench beside the bus stop sign, wishing it was the kind with an enclosure around it.
At least it’s not raining.
So there’s that.
You glance down the dark, deserted road, willing the bus to hurry up.
It does not.
11pm Sunday night isn’t exactly prime commute hours. Apparently. And at times like this, you often wonder why your boss keeps the cafe open at all hours, anyhow.
Some nights, you barely see two or three customers all shift.
There’s got to be a better use of her resources, but you still get paid, so hey.
Speaking of better ways to do things, there’s a pair of those share-scooters abandoned on the sidewalk a few dozen yards away, blocking the path for anyone going by.
Maybe you should move them.
But if you get up, surely that’s when the bus will arrive.
So you sit there. Waiting. Feeling a tiny bit guilty for not moving the scooters. What if someone comes by in a wheelchair and can’t get past?
But…but it’s not like you’re the one who left them there.
Sighing, you try to ignore your conscience, hoping the bus will be along soon.
Everything feels so strangely mundane without Ziros around. It’s been an oddly uneventful day.
Although…you should probably be glad about that. You could use a little more dullness in your life after all the crazy adventures you’ve had lately, but you still miss Ziros.
It’s only been a few days since he left, but it feels like an eternity. All you’ve done is work and go home and sit around hoping he will reappear.
Corrine has been busy, too, so there’s not been much to keep your mind off his absence.
Five more minutes pass, and your bus still hasn’t arrived.
You keep glancing back over at the two scooters parked side-by-side blocking the middle of the walkway.
Maybe you should get up and do something about them, after all. With one last glance back down the road to make sure you won’t miss your bus, you hurry and move the first scooter over to the edge of the sidewalk. Immediately, it starts beeping loudly, like it’s trying to warn you not to steal it.
“ Quiet ,” you will the scooter, and magically—yes, literally—it stops.
Oh.
Well, that’s handy.
“See?” you ask its brethren, willing it to shush as it, too, begins to siren at you. “I’m not stealing you, I’m just moving you.”
Just as you set the second scooter out of the way of pedestrians, you hear the familiar rumble of the bus lumbering up the quiet street.
Cursing under your breath, you wave at the driver, rushing back to your stop.
Fortunately, the driver sees you just in time, pulling the bus to a squealing halt at the curb.
As it pulls away with you aboard, you swear you catch a glimpse of a dark shadow looming against the edge of a nearby building across the street from where you’d been standing.
Chills race up your arms.
Was that someone…watching you?
You feel a bit paranoid for assuming the worst, but that’s exactly what it looked like.
And you’re certain it wasn’t Ziros.
You rub the goosebumps down from your arms as you find a seat on the deserted bus, but you can’t shake your creeped-out feeling all the way to work.
Weird.
Maybe it’s a good thing you decided not to walk, after all. What if they’re a stalker?
You’re probably being paranoid.
Probably…
When you arrive, the cafe is brightly lit and cheery, and you’re surprised to find Mel, your boss, sitting at a table inside, typing away on her laptop.
“Just you tonight, or am I that late?” you ask as the door swings shut behind you.
Mel smiles, shutting her laptop as she stands up. “Nah, you’re not late. I was just covering a bit. The last shift had to go early, and I said I could wait for you. It’s been a slow night.”
“I believe it.” You’re not really surprised. After all, Sunday nights are almost always one of the slowest times at the cafe.
Fortunately, you’ve got your phone loaded up with lots of good romance books to distract you while the cafe is dead.
You don your barista apron, setting up shop behind the counter as you wait for your first customer to arrive.
You’re not even sure you’ll see a single one all night, and once again you find yourself wondering why Mel doesn’t just operate during normal cafe hours.
“Alright, I’m outta here,” she announces as she picks up her bag. “If for some reason the next shift is really late, you can just lock up and pop a ‘closed’ sign in the window. It’s not exactly hopping tonight, and the worker up next has key privileges anyway.”
At the risk of giving up your precious work hours, you blurt, “Don’t you lose money on a night like this?”
Mel stops halfway to the door.
“You know, that’s a good point. Do you want to go home?”
You wince. Oops.
So much for your rent money.
“Um, I mean, I did just get here and all—”
“Don’t worry, I’m not sending you away. Just making sure. But you do make a good point. Maybe business isn’t my strongest suit.”
“It’s not?”
Mel just shrugs, glancing at the back door. “I’ve had other priorities.”
You’re not sure what she’s trying to say. Doesn’t she manage this cafe for her living? What else could she possibly be prioritizing?
Or maybe—maybe this cafe is just a front! What if she’s a drug-dealer?
Wait, no.
That’s probably a weird conclusion to jump to.
Besides.
She’s always been nice to you.
“Anyway, I gotta go. But just remember,” she says, tapping her right pocket. “If someone—or some thing —gives you trouble, be sure to use my gift.”
“Your gift?”
“You know. Your birthday present,” she says with a wave, opening the back door.
Before you can ask for clarification, she vanishes into the night, the door swinging shut behind her.
It isn’t until she’s gone that you reach down and touch your pocket, feeling the familiar shape of the tiny sword in its sheath.
Hang on.
Did she know you were carrying it there?!
It barely makes a bulge in your pocket, so you’re pretty sure she wouldn’t have seen it. Maybe it was a lucky guess.
You shake it off, glancing at the unlocked back door as your mind wanders again to the shadowed figure you swore you saw watching you at the bus stop. Chills slide up your arms at the thought.
Is it really safe for you to be here alone on such a quiet night?
Since no one is around, you pull out the tiny sword, feeling it warm to your touch.
At least you’re armed.
Sy
“And you’re certain they’re dating?”
“Absolutely,” says the greasy-haired young man in front of me, nodding way too eagerly. He’s still wearing his polo from the convenience store down the street, and the jealousy on his face is way too obvious as he answers. “I’ve been keeping careful watch over her, just like you asked.”
I don’t bother to hide my disgust, frowning at him from where I lean against the shadows of the alley wall.
“I don’t recall asking you to watch her.”
“You asked for information.”
“I thought I made myself clear. You were to watch the man with her.”
“I did.”
“Fine. Here,” I drop a crisp hundred dollar bill into the greasy-haired man’s hands. “You may go.”
He stares down at the bill, then back to my face. “I thought you said you would deal with her boyfriend for me.”
“Ha! I will. Oh, I will deal with him. But not for you . Now leave. Before I decide you’re in my way.”
I don’t like this guy.
Maybe that’s what I get for hiring a random human to do my dirty work, but I still don’t like him.
I’m all twitchy, heat sparking under my skin until he leaves.
I don’t feel better until I’ve got a fresh flame in my hands, flickering against the cold night air.
“Boyfriend, huh?” I laugh, shaking my head.
My brother isn’t like that.
If I know one thing for sure about him, he’d never catch feelings for a human.
No.
That poor woman.
She’s being used by him.
And now I’m going to use her, too. Only, I’m going to be using her for something a little different, a little better— bait .
You
You yawn, stretching your arms in the air as you head out the door in the pre-dawn hours.
You managed to stick it out to the end of your shift—barely.
It was so dead, it was hard to stay awake.
You couldn’t even bring yourself to read any of the steamy vampire romance books you brought along on your phone. Every time you opened them, you’d just find yourself thinking of Ziros all over again.
Instead, you cleaned.
A lot.
Radio on, singing-off key while no one was around—good times.
And you spent a good fifteen minutes staring at the display case of terrible pastries, wondering if you might be able to politely tell your boss how bad they are without totally crushing her feelings.
After all, if the cafe had pastries that were any good, maybe they’d get way more business.
Oh, well.
Not your problem.
Speaking of not your problem , even though you waited an extra ten minutes, the next shift never showed up. Normally you’d wait longer, but since Mel had specifically told you it would be fine if you’d left early, you decide to head out anyhow, turning the sign to “closed” as you carefully lock-up.
Mel
—A Few Hours Later—
What the?
The gal who was supposed to work after June had a family emergency, so I’m back at my cafe bright and early. The perks of being the owner, I suppose.
But that’s not the problem.
The problem is, some asshole’s gone and thrown away all my pastries.
Yep.
Just dumped ‘em all in the trash like rubbish.
I stare down into the garbage bag, head reeling. June wouldn’t have done this. She’s a sweetheart, and a rule-follower.
There’s no way.
Would she?
We’re friends . At least, that’s what I want to believe.
But my pastries!
My precious, carefully baked pastries!
And she’s the last employee who was in here.
“Excuse me,” says a voice at the counter, and I turn to see a customer standing there, pointing at the display case. “Can I get one of these?”
I blink.
The display case?
Isn’t that…empty?
Wait.
It’s not. It’s not empty at all.
“Of course,” I say, smiling as I hurry over.
Trying to pretend this is all normal. Like I know what the hell is going on in my own cafe.
Yeah, that’s because the pastry display case that should be empty is full .
Someone didn’t just throw away all my pastries.
They baked an entirely new batch.
And as soon as the customer walks away, I discreetly pull open the back of the case, snatching a large, square pastry with flaky crust and artfully piped ribbons of icing.
I bite down, relishing the sweet explosion of flavor that blooms through my mouth.
“ Oh my God ,” I mutter, staring down at the remains of this unearthly treat.
I don’t know where the hell these came from, but suddenly I forgive whoever threw mine away.
“Excuse me,” calls a voice from the other side of the counter.
I hadn’t even heard the door open. I’m a Gatekeeper. I have magic . I shouldn’t be so affected by things like sugar and flour, but the pastry is so damn good, I’m entranced.
I’ve never had anything this good in my life.
Granted, when you’ve got power like I do, sometimes other senses get a bit dull. Price you pay for magic, I guess.
I take another bite, then another, until the pastry is finally gone.
“ Excuse me ,” repeats the voice from the other side of the counter and I blink, finally looking up.
“Oh. You’re back.”
It’s the same lady who just bought a pastry.
“Yes, sorry to bother you,” she says, which is really quite nice of her, considering I’m the one who’s supposed to be running a business here, but was spacing-out stuffing my face. “I was just wondering. Can I buy a dozen?”
“A dozen?” I blink.
Normally my pastries languish.
I can’t remember the last time anyone’s ever bought a dozen of my pastries at once.
Granted, these aren’t my pastries.
They’re like some sort of gift from the heavens. These cannot be real. They cannot.
And yet, somehow, impossibly, they are.
And as soon as that customer finishes her purchase and heads back out the door, I can’t help but sample another one. You know. Gotta make sure it’s not poisoned or something. It’s my civic duty as shop owner.
Damn .
They’re not just the best pastries I’ve ever tasted, they’re the best anything I’ve ever tasted.
So I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised when the door opens again a little while later and two more customers walk in.
“Hey,” says the first. “I heard this is where the amazing pastries came from.”
And that’s when I know: Somehow, whatever I do, I’ve got to get more of them.
Ziros
I’m covered in flour.
I wasn’t gonna do it.
But…
But my human was working so hard, and I kept thinking she’d walk back into the kitchen any minute.
Any minute, she’d open that door and discover me.
She’d hear the racket I was making.
But no.
Damn, humans sure are oblivious.
And then she left.
I laugh, shaking my head as I sit on the edge of the rooftop, watching her apartment window from across the way.
She didn’t even notice I was there all night.
I should go.
I’m not ready yet to return, not stable enough to be around her safely.
A part of me hates myself for wasting my visit without seeing her, but I did leave her a little surprise.
I wonder what she’ll think when she finds it.
You
You groan, rolling out of bed in the early afternoon, groggy as ever after a late night shift.
What day is it?
That’s right: It’s Monday.
And you felt creeped-out all the way home like someone was watching you, but you made it back alright.
Probably, it was just your imagination.
You shiver as you remember it, rubbing the goosebumps back down on your arms.
Hopefully Ziros returns soon.
You climb out of bed, reaching for your phone, wishing Ziros would find a way to message you. But of course he hasn’t.
Instead, there’s a text from Mel.
Boss Lady: Juuuuuuuune, listen, I didn’t know you could bake, but pleeeease I need you to come back and bake like a zillion more.
Boss Lady: I’m not kidding. They SOLD OUT.
Boss Lady: Seriously, please text me when you get these messages.
You blink down at your phone.
Sold out?
Bake?
What is she talking about?
Is this a dream, because those pastries in the display case never sell. In fact, that’s probably part of the problem, but you’ve never felt brave enough to tell Mel.
Also, even when fresh, they have the distinct taste of refined cardboard.
You rub your eyes, still feeling like this is a dream.
On your way to the shower, you hurry out a text—
You: I’m not sure what you’re talking about?
Whatever is going on, hopefully you don’t get in trouble.
* * *
Speaking of trouble.
You’ve just dressed when a sharp knock rings out at the door.
And that’s when you realize what date it is: It’s the 2nd.
Your rent is officially late. Your heart hammers in your chest as you realize: What if that’s your landlord coming to evict you?
Ziros said he’d take care of it, and somehow you just sorta…forgot about it after that. But maybe you were stupid. Stupid to think he could ever make good on a silly promise like that.
After all, he’s been gone.
And now you’re going to be kicked out of your apartment.