Loverboy (The Company #2) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,25
my father sees is a failed marriage.”
“Ouch.” Posy’s dad is a giant tool, and I could never understand why she worked so hard to please him. Still, I can’t resist teasing her. “Magna cum laude, huh? I graduated summa.”
“You did?” she scowls. “Of course you did.”
“Nah, I’m just fucking with you.” I snap the towel close to her hip and then laugh. “But you totally believed me. And it bothered you, didn’t it? Admit it.”
“It did.” She puts her hands up to her face and shakes her head. “Just ignore me. This is what a midlife crisis looks like—a divorce, a career change, and a kitschy pie shop.”
Her vulnerability surprises me. And I glance around the pie shop, looking at it with fresh eyes. It’s a beautiful space, with golden lighting, warm wood floors, and creamy white wainscoting that gives off farmhouse vibes. There’s a shelf that runs all the way across the far wall, and it’s decorated with a collection of pristine ceramic farm animals. And each wooden table has a pair of chairs in matching colors.
It’s like I’m standing inside Posy’s chipper, ambitious mind. “I like it,” I say slowly. “And as for midlife crises, I’ve seen worse. My uncle Pat bought a vintage Camaro and grew some scary sideburns and an unfortunate mustache.”
“Thank God it hasn’t come to that.” Posy turns toward the kitchen door. “Hey Jerry! It’s time for your big moment.”
“Awesome!” comes a shout from the back. A moment later, the special needs kid who washes dishes comes flying out. He rushes over to the door and flips the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. “Done!”
“Good work,” she says. “You can take off your apron and go home, okay?”
“Okay Posy.” He reaches back and fumbles with the strings.
“Hey, Jerry?” I say, reaching for the tip jar. “There was a lady in here who left a tip for you.”
His mouth opens in surprise. “The tips in the jar aren’t for me.”
“I know,” I say, because I realize I can’t make a habit of this, or the other baristas will have to pony up as well. “But she did it especially for you. Just this once.” I offer him both of the ten dollar bills I received today.
He takes the money with wide eyes. “Thanks, mister.”
“Oh, I thanked the lady for you. Don’t worry.”
“Wow, maybe she’ll come back tomorrow!”
“You never know,” I say with a shrug. “Could happen.”
“Bye, Posy!” he says, marching toward the back.
“See you tomorrow,” she calls after him. A minute later we hear a bang as the back door is slammed shut. Then she turns to me with narrowed eyes. “I don’t know what’s more surprising. The fact that you gave Jerry your money, or the fact that two women left you ten-dollar tips.”
“How do you know they were women?” I ask. “Plenty of men appreciate this face, too.”
She rolls her eyes as she lifts the tip jar, testing its weight. “Good. Lord. It’s just like the old days, Gunnar. Your tip jar was always bulging at the seams.”
“I can’t believe the boss is checking out my bulge,” I say before I think better of it. Oops.
“Gunnar!” she squeaks. “Do you have to make everything into a sex joke?”
“Sorry,” I flinch. “Old habits die hard. Hey—am I supposed to count the drawer?” I ask, pointing at the cash register.
“It depends on who’s working and how big a hurry I’m in. I think I’ll count it and then make the deposit while you finish cleaning up.”
“No problem.”
She takes the register drawer to the end of the counter and stands there to count up the cash, while I wipe down each of the cafe tables for a final time and invert the chairs on them.
With the broom and the mop that I spotted in back, I clean all the pie crumbs and an errant paper napkin off the floor.
It’s funny how natural this feels. I haven’t worked a food service job in ages. But there’s a comfortable rhythm to it that’s familiar. My work in security is very exciting, but no job is ever really finished. Closing up for the night feels like an accomplishment.
“All right,” Posy says into our companionable silence. “I need to run over to the bank. I can lock up now or leave you here for ten more minutes. Which is it going to be?”
“Go ahead,” I say. “I’ll finish up here, and then sit down to check my email. I’m expecting a message from my father’s doctor.”