Chapter 7 Elliot
My eyes wander to the clock sitting on the wall, eagerly waiting for the numbers to change. A contented smile plays at my lips the moment the time ticks over to six.
Madelina is nowhere in sight, and after last night, that doesn’t surprise me at all.
Billie asked me to stop by the bar for a quick drink, but after accepting the invitation, Ronald asked if I could help him change the filter on his boat. Although I had no prior maintenance experience, I felt compelled to do it, given Ronald is like a hundred and two.
It meant ditching the girls’ meetup, which no doubt involved unnecessary conversations I would find unentertaining anyway.
My shoulders relax as tension eases with the kneading of the dough. I’ve grown fond of working autonomously, knowing the café will be busy later and quiet time will be a thing of the past.
The radio is airing the usual morning show, a mix of music and news. It’s a refreshing change from listening to French all day long. As a Post Malone song plays in the background, the door chimes, signaling someone entering the café.
“Before you even say a thing, it’s six o’clock and I’m only one minute late because the stupid key got stuck in Eva’s door and I couldn’t get it out.
” Madelina suddenly appears in the kitchen, out of breath, wearing a white dress and sneakers.
Obviously, she has no experience working in a kitchen.
Despite wearing an apron, her dress will likely end up covered in stains by the end of the day.
Knowing my luck, I’ll be forced to listen to her complain, and this will somehow end up my fault.
I press the dough down, then push it forward with the heels of my hands. “It sounds like a whole lot of excuses.”
“One excuse,” she corrects, grabbing the apron from the hook on the wall. “And a valid one at that. I’m not hungover.”
My eyes lazily wander to where Madelina is standing as she attempts to knot the back of the apron.
Unlike last night, she appears rather pale.
Still, regardless of her feisty comebacks, I have to admit she’s caught my attention.
Nothing at all like the geeky ninth-grade girl with the metal braces who my sister referred to as her “bestie for life”.
Madelina tucks her rich, chestnut-colored hair behind her ear, giving me a better look at her face. Despite the pallor of her skin, a testament to her obvious hangover, the harsh fluorescent light catches the faint blush on her cheeks. I quickly turn away, aware I’ve been staring too long.
“Okay, where do you need me?”
“The batch on the right is ready to be iced.” I slide the tray closer to her, and the sweet aroma wafts gently between us. “Have you ever worked in a kitchen before?”
“Yes… But do you mean with food?”
“Of course, food. What else would you be doing in a kitchen?”
Madelina closes her eyes, then slowly opens them. “Your voice is registering at higher tones than one would appreciate this morning.”
I lower my gaze, releasing a soft chuckle. “I told you so. Tequila is never a good idea on a weeknight.”
“Sshhh…” She brings her finger to her lips, warning me to lower my voice again. “We don’t refer to the devil so early in the morning, or else you’ll be holding my hair back in the toilet. I’m an ugly vomiter. Argh, I can’t even think about it.”
“Is anyone an attractive vomiter?” I ask, sliding a tray toward her.
“Change the subject. I’m begging you.”
I choose to work quietly, making it easier for both of us. When I worked in fast-paced kitchens, it was not unusual to have to yell at staff during food preparation. But here, the pace is slow, much like this god-forsaken town.
Madelina is quick to break the silence. “Are you quietly judging me? Is that why you’re not saying anything?”
“That depends. Are we on the same subject or moving on?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she questions, placing her hand on her hip. “So, you are judging me? I mean, I haven’t seen you in a thousand years, and the first time happens to be margarita night.”
I motion for her to move so I can slide the next tray over to my right. “I’m assuming your copious amounts of margaritas have something to do with the reason you’re back in town.”
“I’m back in town to help Eva. She’s a busy bee, that one, with the new store opening.”
I nod, but keep the rest of my thoughts at bay.
My sudden need to keep to myself appears to irritate her.
Eva already gave me the lowdown, and I’m not one to engage in gossip, nor do I care, so I don’t ask any further questions.
However, with Madelina standing next to me, so provoked, my curiosity is piqued.
“Fine, I’ll bite,” she says with a slight trepidation in her voice. “What have you heard?”
“What does it matter?” I respond instantly. “Look, we open in an hour, and I need to prep out front.”
She doesn’t press the issue further, and just like that, the conversation fades into the background.
Our morning rush provides little to no time to dwell on our conversation. Madelina has a knack for multitasking, effortlessly juggling taking orders and brewing coffee. While she manages the front, I remain at the back, focusing on preparing sandwiches for the lunch crowd looming ahead.
Typically, between ten and eleven, there’s a pause in the hustle, a brief moment of calm amid the storm. But today is different. Groups of girls come in, all on summer vacation, with this annoying need to film themselves “for content”—their words, not mine.
Madelina nudges my side playfully, a teasing smile dancing on her lips. “Excuse me, Mr. Woods. The ladies at table four have summoned the hot chef to make a cameo in their video.”
I suppress a groan, pressing my lips together in irritation. “Could you be nice and tell them I’m busy? Or maybe that I have a girlfriend? Anything at all to make this go away.”
“Of course.” Madelina smirks. “But be warned—according to them, they’re riding a wave of virality. You wouldn’t want to be the reason their creator fund goes dry, would you?”
“Their what fund?”
Madelina raises her brows. “Do you even scroll?”
“Scroll what?”
“TikTok.”
“TikTok, no. Porn, yes.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s such a guy response. Fine, but if I tell them you’re busy, expect a shitty tip.”
My shoulders tense as I mutter, “This is not what I signed up for.”
I try to ignore the group staring at me while Madelina is at the table chatting to them. Whatever she is saying seems to hold their attention, but I keep myself busy at the counter to avoid being called over.
Minutes later, Madelina returns, remaining quiet as she attends to the coffee machine.
“See, that was easy,” I say with satisfaction.
“Hmm, not really. I had to make up a story about you being emotionally unavailable and possibly gay,” Madelina responds at the same time she pulls a mug close to her, only for some coffee to spill, missing the apron and hitting the side of her dress. “Oh no!”
It’s hard to keep my smug grin to myself, but based on what I know of Madelina, she will notice my expression and call me out for it. “Baking soda and vinegar. There’s some in the kitchen. You may want to use it, or your dress is a goner.”
Madelina releases a huff, disappearing into the kitchen, then returning minutes later. I briefly glance at her dress and notice the stain is gone.
“You’re a genius.” She sighs with relief. “So, I guess a white dress wasn’t a good idea?”
I hold back from mentioning she looks cute and has fantastic legs, and instead say, “A potato sack will be more appropriate.”
A customer walks to the counter, ordering a dozen takeaway pineapple mini-donuts, which is Eva’s specialty. As soon as I’m done serving the young man, Madelina grabs my hand and starts leading me across the café.
“We’re doing this for Eva, remember? The girl we both love so much. Now suck it up and stop being my grumpy boss.”
“I’m not your boss,” I remind her, realizing only now she’s making me join those girls for a so-called video.
“Oh, hey, thanks for being in our video. I’m Meadow Rain,” the girl introduces herself with an over-the-top grin.
Meadow Rain. She’s got one of those names. Upon looking at her plate, she ordered the vegan chocolate donut and, of course, a matcha. Madelina pinches my arm, forcing me to smile politely.
The following five minutes are pure hell.
I’m instructed to partake in some trend with Madelina while the girls film.
The moment it’s over, I bail to the kitchen and scour the cupboard for anything remotely alcoholic to erase what just happened.
As I come up with nothing, I remind myself that there is only an hour left before the store closes, and a bottle of bourbon on the boat is calling my name.
Madelina walks into the kitchen, laughing. “They’re gone, but you’re a natural. Girls will froth at the mouth seeing you on screen,” Madelina continues with a grin, but then she diverts her gaze, lowering her head. “I mean, you know… Forget I said that.”
We both pivot away as we get ready to close up for the day. Suddenly, Madelina’s cell phone blares, slicing through the quiet buzz as she halts her rhythmic wiping of the glass.
“Uh, really?” she murmurs under her breath, her brow furrowing slightly. “Eva asked me to swing by the house and check if the kitchen tiles were installed correctly.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Do you even know what you’re looking for?”
Her voice trails off for a moment, and then a playful smile dances across her lips. “Yes… Wait, okay, no. Please come with me. That way, if it turns out wrong, we can both claim ignorance together.”
“You know I have a life outside of this place?”
She rests a gentle yet firm hand on my shoulder, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “But do you really?”
I cross my arms beneath my chest, cocking my head slightly. “Wow, you’re already throwing jabs at me? Impressive.”
“Right… just like a big brother. I miss Aston,” she sighs with her lips curved upward.