Chapter 18 Profits, Margins, and Custards
PROFITS, MARGINS, AND CUSTARDS
Lazerath
Lazerath was wrong.
Profits and margins and costs weren’t boring. They were fascinating.
And fucking confusing.
He was the first to admit that math was not his strong suit, but he also wasn’t completely incompetent.
He knew that one plus one equaled two, this treat sold at this price, and once costs were factored in, there was a thing called profit.
If he just viewed all of the items as their profit, the number at the end of the day would look like this.
But one plus one wasn’t really making two, at least in their books.
Davarox was brilliant, that was no question, but sometimes the math wasn’t mathing the way Laz thought it should.
He’d noticed it the other day when he’d secretly pulled the ledger out to study and surprise Dav and Rose the next time they used fancy money words around him.
Things like one and one were making threes and fours.
Costs on some columns decreased here and there, tips seemed larger than what Laz remembered collecting, and profits were more impressive than their sales for the day.
Lazerath had attributed the discrepancies to his own limitations before, but today was different.
Today, Rose was off giving her proposal to Argeth with the new evidence she’d gathered from Elliran the day before.
He’d started a few loaves of bread to keep himself busy when really he wanted to sprint into Argeth’s office and listen to her brilliance.
He’d tried mopping the floors, but a few customers complained when he tried to clean under tables they were currently occupying.
But there was a midafternoon lull, and the sweet buns were cooling before he could put them in the display case, and then he was thinking of new sprinkle patterns for cookies when the idea had struck.
So, here he sat, staring at the ledger and thinking about patterns.
About the numbers changing on the fourth and seventh days of the week consistently.
About Dav’s perfect handwriting sometimes looking like a three had been turned into an eight when the math said it should have been a one.
About that other day, where the numbers were more obviously not adding up correctly, and Dav had tried to convince Lazerath that their tips had been well over what they earned on a busy day.
His head hurt. And maybe his heart. Because when he looked farther back, the pattern continued.
Months. Years. And Laz could recall the conversations, how there were times Davarox was incredibly nervous or gave excuses to stay longer and sort the ingredients or study the ledger or decline invitations to go out.
Odd, secretive dismissals of what he’d done the night before.
What was this feeling in Lazerath’s chest? Not the sads. A little bit of fear. The hurts? Why did it feel so weird?
If his math was correct, which it might not have been, profits for Lovable Loaf shouldn’t have been this high. In fact, they shouldn’t have still been running at all. And it wasn’t just the higher fees that Laz hadn’t noticed in the contracts. At the end of every line, one thing had become clear.
Davarox was padding their books.
But the money wasn’t made up or missing, like Rosalind had noticed in her proposals. This money actually existed, which meant Dav was finding that coin somewhere.
Or producing it himself.
Laz rubbed at the ache starting in his chest. Where was this money coming from? What was Dav doing that he felt he needed to sneak it into their books? Why hadn’t he told Lazerath the truth about their failing bakery?
Just when he’d gathered the courage to call Davarox out from the back and confront him over the discrepancies, the bell over the door chimed.
All worries left Laz’s body as he looked up and found a familiar face.
“Sev!”
This is what Lazerath was missing. Something comfortable and reassuring.
Despite his twin’s stiffness, Laz still gave him a big hug, only relinquishing his hold when he got a pinch to the armpit. And maybe because he was now very curious about the new human standing in his bakery, wide-eyed but laughing at their antics.
“This must be your brother,” Ember said with a grin.
“Oh, and is this the big bad murderer you warned me about?” he teased to his brother, turning to take her in fully.
Tiny, even compared to Rosalind, though he could see a mind just as sharp churning behind her dark eyes.
From what Rose had told him, she was as strong and capable as the woman he loved.
And it was precisely because he was thinking gooey thoughts about his human that when Sev pulled him aside to investigate a windowpane that wasn’t actually cracked, he easily read his brother’s unsettled demeanor.
“I have a problem.”
“Oh?” When he turned back to find his twin’s gaze lingering on the kitchen where Dav and Ember had disappeared, he gasped. “You like her.”
This was exactly the distraction that Lazerath needed, because if there was one thing he excelled at, it was needling his uptight brother.
Especially because after seeing Ozirax and Kalypso the other night being extra friendly, there was no doubt in Lazerath’s mind that his twin was completely obsessed with his human.
Of course, Laz wouldn’t divulge his own courtship because it was much more fun to make his brother wonder what sort of chaos Lazerath had gotten himself into. And he wasn’t entirely sure Severath was ready to hear how his brother and best friend were very intimately involved with their own human.
Then again, it seemed Severath might not have been entirely clueless.
So Lazerath gave him some doughy advice, because life made a lot more sense when compared to baking bread.
Or maybe a box of cookies. No, that didn’t work, those were flat and you could always accidentally get one with wrinkly fruits that should never be put in a sweet pastry. Chocolates? Much better.
Lazerath only felt a little bad about snapping at his brother somewhere between Sev’s self-loathing and reverting to their childhood desire to solve everything with a quick punch to the jaw.
In fairness, Severath deserved it because it was quite clear he was interested in the human but terrified to act on it.
After a long-winded explanation of how Sev really should be kinder to himself and understand that he would be a fantastic partner if he stopped sabotaging himself—with metaphors that Sev likely didn’t understand—Laz ended with: “I’m trying to tell you to be yourself and follow your instinct.”
“My instinct wants me to lick her from head to tail and beg her to stay with me for as long as she can bear my presence.”
“Yes, that.”
After teasing Sev a bit more about his mushy feelings for Ember, Severath had clearly had enough and asked Ember if they were ready to leave. Dav strolled out of the kitchen behind the human, amusement brightening his soft smile when they left the shop.
Laz was still waving as the pair walked past the window and said to his friend, “So, Sev likes Ember.”
Dav was also waving, pretending everything was normal. “Ember likes Sev.”
“Aww, two murder couples.” He boosted himself up onto the counter to sit. “So, I couldn’t help but notice the bag of ingredients you sent home with Ember… That doesn’t have anything to do with a certain grudge you’re still holding?”
Davarox’s smile turned downright evil. “Severath deserves it for what he did.”
“You’re still mad over him eating the last custard eight years ago?” Laz joked, shoving Dav’s shoulder.
Davarox grumbled and reached for the tray of cooled sweet buns that Lazerath had meant to put away. “It was the first batch you’d ever made successfully. You’d made them for me.”
Laz went still.
The way Dav had said those words, it had to be unintentional. How they dipped in volume. How he turned away and avoided eye contact in favor of putting the bread away.
Lazerath stared at the back of his friend’s head, recalling that day. He’d returned to a tension-filled room after he’d forgotten to turn off the heating rune in the oven. Davarox was furious at Sev for eating the last of the custards Laz had made, glaring daggers at the male.
It had been so ridiculous, like all the fights they’d had with each other throughout the years.
But this one, this tiny fight, had lingered longer than Laz thought it deserved.
Dav had been short with Sev for months after that day, even though Lazerath had offered a million times to just make Davarox a new one.
Not that Dav didn’t have the recipe to make it himself.
And the demon barely ate the treat nowadays.
But here, now, was a truth Lazerath had never heard uttered from Davarox.
You’d made them for me.
He’d made plenty of desserts for Davarox, but none had ever inspired that possessive and, dare he say, heartbroken tone. Over a small thing that he and Dav did daily.
Under Laz’s hand, the ledger and its contents burned his skin. He could feel an uncertain weight settling on his shoulders, no distraction left and the air tense between them.
Davarox had always been protective, but somehow this felt different. Somehow, all the discrepancies and secrecy were starting to stretch beyond what he understood.
Lazerath sat there, unable to find the words for the first time in his life, so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the door until her beautiful voice broke the silence.
“He loved it!”
Rosalind squeaked as Davarox lifted her in a hug that was much more Laz’s style than his.
“Of course he loved it,” Dav said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What’s next?”