had carried in. “Sounds about like how many times a day I’m asked where Marisol is,” I grumble under my breath.
Carlos lets out a big whoop as he laughs. “Sorry about that. Marisol was a perfectionist and everyone she came in contact with couldn’t help but love her. I guess that is why her quitting without any notice threw me off. People just don’t like change around here. It will get better, I promise.” He drums the top of the display case with his fingertips in thought. “Oh, I have one more container of the pastelitos to bring in before I leave. I’m going to put them in the office as back up, I’m sure you will need them by noon. Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Carlos,” I say to him as he turns and heads out the back door. I walk to the front of the cafe to turn on the OPEN light and unlock the front door when I notice the same police officer as yesterday standing outside waiting.
“You know we don’t open until five, right?” I ask as he walks right in as soon as I click the lock.
He looks at me puzzled. “It’s Tuesday,” he mutters matter of factly.
“Well, I’m glad that you know what day of the week it is.” I take a quick glance at his badge. “Officer Monroe,” I say as I walk behind the counter to the register. “Extra-large Café con Leche, extra shot of espresso,” I announce out loud as I ring his order before he can even say it himself.
I look up at him as he is staring at me as if deep in thought. “Actually, I meant it as it is pastelitos day. Gloria only makes her famous guava and coconut pastelitos on Tuesdays. Good to know that you remember my drink order though.” He smirks.
What is with this guy? I don’t like his arrogance. He can’t be but a few years older than I am. Even though I hate to admit that he is quite attractive, something about him really irks me. “That will be five dollars even,” I say as I hand him the paper bag with his pastry inside and turn back to the counter behind me to make his drink. I can see him watching me the entire time from the corner of my eye. I hand him his drink as he hands me a ten dollar bill. I place it in the register and hand him his five dollars in change. He immediately drops it into the tip jar. Strange, one hundred percent tip, just as yesterday.
“Thank you,” he pauses, “Not-Marisol.” Then he turns to leave.
“It’s Vada,” I holler at him as he gets to the door. He stops and spins around with a faint smile as he nods his head and lifts his cup in the air. “Thank you, Vada.”
Carlos wasn’t kidding when he said I would need the back-up pastelitos. But, he was wrong about it being by noon. I needed them before it was even ten o’clock. After Officer Monroe left and the clock hit five a.m., there was literally a line out the door until every last pastry was gone. I really need to brush up on my Spanish, because I’m positive that several people were saying some not nice things about me once we ran out. Not a single person has walked in since eleven-thirty. It is almost noon now and I’m starving, so I decide I might as well sneak back into the office to eat the one last pastelito I’d saved for myself.
Now I know why people so look forward to Tuesdays and literally stand in long lines to get one of these. This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever eaten. I’m leaning back in the tattered leather office chair with my feet propped up on the desk. I close my eyes as I pop the last piece in my mouth to savor it.
“It’s a good thing it was me and not someone else who just saw you eat that last pastelito, or you would have a lynch mob after you.”
The voice startles me so much that I shriek as I flip back the chair I was leaning in, falling on my back.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says in between his laughter as his grabs my arms to pull me to my feet.
I yank my arms free from his help and set the chair back up under the desk. Police officer