Page 32 of Semi-Rejected Life

However, I felt a bit relieved when the first deliveries came in. I gave River the addresses, the food, and enough change to cover everything if they used cash. He seemed nervous, but I pushed him out the door anyway, hoping for the best. How hard could finding a house be? With him out of the way, it gave me time to catch up on some orders.

The first group of deliveries took him a while. But by the time we were halfway through the night, he was getting the hang of it. In fact, he was bringing in pretty good tips too. He got a crisp twenty from one of my older clients when she asked him to take his shirt off. Of course he obliged her, having a good laugh about it afterwards. As much as I thought it was hilarious, I really wasn’t looking to gain a reputation for doing striptease deliveries, so I told him to refrain from doing that again. He still made good tips for the rest of the night, so who knows if he listened to me or not.

Finally, as the night drew to a close and things wound down, I switched off the phones. There were a couple of late stragglers, but I took care of their orders while River cleaned poorly. The man was useless with a broom and honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t accidentally kill himself when he mopped. However, he could wipe down a table, so at least those were okay. When the last customer left with their order, I switched off the open sign and the front lights before locking the door and breathing a sigh of relief.

“Well, that was something.”

“Are we done already?” River whined, as if this were some sort of fun field trip for him. “I was just getting the hang of things.”

I glanced down at the floor that was still dirty, but now also wet. “You did better than I expected…”

“Thanks,” he smiled, looking very pleased with himself. “This whole working thing is more fun than I thought. It’s like a video game but with real money!”

Christ. What kind of sheltered ass life did this man live?

“Sure,” I nodded. “Just like that.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We chill out,” I replied, walking back into the kitchen. “And eat if you’re hungry.”

His tongue practically lolled out of his mouth. “I thought you’d never ask…”

“Well, let’s get it in the oven before I turn it off then.”

“I want a–”

“Oh no,” I replied, cutting him off. “I’m not making it for you. You can make whatever you want yourself.”

“But I’m bad at the dough…”

“Figure it out. It’s sink or swim in Shifter Grove. If tons of other wolves can build new lives by themselves, then you can stretch pizza dough.” I added under my breath, “You know how to stretch everything else…”

River smiled, catching my muttered comments. But he nodded, wedged his tongue between his teeth with a look of fierce determination, and got to work. His first few attempts on the dough were rough, but I stopped myself from trying to help him. Some things could only be learned with practice and that’s exactly what River needed.

After a few minutes he managed to get something put on the board that marginally emulated a circle. Then he got to the sauce and the toppings, being careful not to dirty the workbench I’d spent the last ten minutes cleaning. When he was finally done constructing his predominately meat pizza, he looked up at me expectantly.

I just gave him a shrug and gestured at the oven.

“Right,” he nodded.

Hefting the board up, River pulled the oven door open. He gave the board a few cursory shakes, getting the pizza moving across the cornmeal spread over the bottom. When he was happy with it, he leaned into it and yanked the board out from under the dough.

To my surprise, it actually improved its shape as he pulled the board away. A big smile filled his face as he glanced over at me and shut the oven door.

“Fuck yeah,” he muttered, putting the board back on the counter. “I’m so good at this.”

Well, at least he was confident.

With a sigh, I took the board and made my own pizza, sliding it in next to his. “They’re gonna need some time,” I said, gesturing for him to follow me. “I want to get off my feet.”

Leading River to the back of the shop, I pushed open an old hollow wooden door to reveal what I called the break room. Really it was a desk in one corner covered in business paperwork, a big plush carpet, a small couch, and a recliner. Everything, of course, had floury handprints on it. No matter how many times I vacuumed, they just seemed to reappear of their own accord. But it didn’t matter. The furniture was from an old thrift store anyway and it was comfy. It was just a place to take a load off after a long day. That’s all I cared about.

“Take a seat,” I said, flopping into the oversized recliner and throwing my legs up over the arm.

River nodded, dropping down onto the couch. A cloud of flour rose up around him and he laugh, waving it away.

“Sorry about that,” I chuckled. “I guess I need to vacuum these again.”

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