Page 1 of Arrested By the Orc

Chapter 1

Sadie

Ihad no idea I was going to be arrested today.

If I’d known, I would’ve at least dressed nicer. Maybe worn a sundress and cute sandals. Done something with my hair and put on a nice pair of earrings.

Thank God I’m at least wearing some makeup.

But instead, I'm found in baggy, comfy clothes and my favorite sneakers that I can stand in all day. My long, blonde hair is half up in a messy bun. And I’m certain there’s flour dusting my face.

It’s barely sunrise and I’m already busy in the commercial kitchen, starting today’s orders. I always arrive long before anyone else on weekdays and most weekends too.

A Taylor Swift playlist blares much too loud, but I like it that way. Arriving early means I can do what I want and listen to what I want, without earbuds. This alone time is basically my favorite part of the day. The batter is mixed to my exacting specifications and I dance around the counters. I can slide more cupcakes into ovens while I pump a fist in the air and yell out the chorus to my favorite parts of the songs, with no one the wiser. It puts a bounce in my step and gives me a good head start on orders.

My sister and I co-own this bakery we’ve named One Big Bite.

Business is good. We’re so busy now, Lila and I recently hired two more full time staff. And we’ll probably soon need to hire more. We sell through the store front, but the main business is a steady stream of online orders and local catering. We’re becoming known for our monthly rotation of inventive yet delicious cupcakes. I come up with the different yummy flavors and Lila decorates the hell outta them. We make a great team.

Baking has been my dream job since I was a kid and I can’t believe it’s actually happening. I’m self-taught, having worked at this my whole life alongside my grandmother. Grandma and I spent whole weekends and school breaks together, baking old recipes passed down through the generations, from her grandmother and great-grandmother. I used to gaze in wonder at all these yellowed, well-loved cards, with recipes written in old-time cursive. Grandma taught me everything I know and would even indulge my ideas and let me experiment with new recipes. We had a lot of fun together and my family enjoyed eating the results.

Eventually, I inherited those family recipes, because none of my brothers or sisters cared about that, not even my own parents. Grandma now sadly suffers from dementia, so I’m the one carrying on her legacy.

Instead of culinary school, I let my parents talk me into going to college for a degree in business. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I temporarily set aside my dreams of turning my love of baking into a career and filled my head with cold hard facts. I learned a lot. I also learned that working in an office building in the big city, amongst an ocean of cubicles was mind-numbingly dull.

At the start of the pandemic our entire company was ordered to work remotely from home. This was no hardship. I felt like I’d been sprung from jail and quickly decided to move back home for lock down. My whole family still lived in the lovely small town where we’d grown up, I was the only sibling who hadn’t returned yet.

By then, my parent’s house was full to bursting with my siblings and their kids, so I moved into an apartment over Lila’s detached garage. And throughout those long days in isolation, I restarted my baking to pass the time and decrease my anxiety. Family and friends would drive by and pick up my offerings. Eventually, as time passed, the baking grew into something I did every night and weekends too because I began to receive specialty orders that people paid for and my fun side hustle began to make actual money.

When life returned to normal and corporate ordered us all to return to the main office my response was, “Hell, no. I quit.”

It was now or never. I’d enjoyed working remotely but I wasn’t going back to long commutes, dating and relationships through apps and screens, and time wasted in trivial meetings. I was hungry for genuine and meaningful face to face interactions. I want to be an entrepreneur because I love creating treats that put a smile on faces and bring joy to a dull day.

Happiness was so close; I could touch it and grab it with both hands.

My oldest sister and best friend, Lila, was in a similar situation, her life in flux. Her asshole husband had spent quarantine with his latest girlfriend, instead of with his wife and kids. And for my sister, that was the last straw. She hired a take-no-prisoners divorce lawyer and ended up with the house, a large settlement and full custody of their kids. And since my sister had always had a decent love for baking and needed a new direction in life, she decided to invest in my bakery idea. I showed her my business plan and we became partners and things have been running smoothly ever since.

Our small town on the great lakes is a vacation hot spot and a great place to own a bakery because there’s lots of foot traffic and a need for what we provide. It’s grown twice its size since I was a kid. People like the beaches, boating and hiking trails. It’s a quaint town with unique shops and luxe hotels. We’re also famous for our local breweries. And a lot of people now have second homes out here or really first homes, which is great for business. Whole subdivisions have been built and new shopping centers. Nowadays there’s even a small airport, a new hospital and another country club.

There are always parties and events going on, which is great for generating orders. But we still have that small town feel which I really enjoy. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. It’s been nice, returning to my hometown and becoming a small business owner and partnering with my own sister.

I smile, thinking of the one major change around here – our new Sheriff is an orc.

I’m not making that up. Yes, an orc.

Because this is a sleepy township along Lake Michigan, it’s a perfect test case. Orcs like the cold and we get lots of snow in the winters and it’s not too hot in the summer. Also, we don’t have a nearby college or any local sports teams. It’s quiet around here. We’re a county long-known for almost no crime. We joke that it’s like Mayberry but with more diversity.

Lots of the people in town were perturbed that our new Sheriff was going to be an orc.

Not me. I thought it sounded fabulous.

People fretted over issues that weren’t even real.

‘How is this going to work considering orcs are so primitive and war-like?’

‘This is going to ruin business. Why would anyone want to vacation here with an orc stomping around and scaring them away? Do they even know how to act civilized?’

‘Orcs kidnap women off the street and drag them to their caves.’

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