Page 11 of Hey, Daddy

It just so happened that my big brother was visiting Milena’s coffee shop, and happened to have a capable vehicle that could get me to where I needed to go.

“Sure,” he said as he jerked his head toward the front door. “Be good today, Milena!”

Milena flipped him off. “As long as you don’t fire any more of my employees, I’ll be fine!”

I laughed.

Shasha did do that, but only because Milena was easy to be taken advantage of, and she had a soft heart.

Shasha didn’t.

He couldn’t care less who he needed to fire for my sister.

I actually think he sometimes liked it.

He’d fired three of them in the last few years.

“Where is your car located?” he inquired.

I grimaced. “Costco.”

“Fuck.” He sighed. “You know I hate that fucking area.”

I knew he did.

I also knew that I loved it.

Shopping was the best thing in the world.

“Drop me off at the Whataburger, and I’ll get some food there before heading to my car,” I suggested.

It was really freakin’ early, and I had plenty of time. Though, I really wanted to get my ice maker.

“I don’t know what you see in that place,” he muttered as he started driving.

I gave him a hurt look and said, “Honey butter biscuits.”

“You’ll die of a heart attack before the age of forty if you keep eating it every day for breakfast. Plus, there are too many carbs in that choice,” he supplied helpfully.

“But I’ll die happy,” I ignored the carbs comment. “And sometimes, I don’t always get Whataburger.”

“Sometimes you get Chick-Fil-A,” he snorted. “Like that’s any better, though.”

“I’ll have you know I had Panera Bread last week.”

“Only because you had a mystery shopper thing there,” he pointed out. “And still, I’m fairly sure that I heard you coming back with one of those cinnamon crunch bagels and that sweet-ass cream cheese. And a cinnamon roll.”

“You’re right, I did have a mystery shopper thing there.” I shook my head. “It’s hella expensive, though. I’m sorry, but you can’t convince me that they can’t make a profit off a bagel for a dollar.”

“They probably could, but this is a country that has businesses that want to make a profit. Not give shit away. So yeah, they’re going to up the price of a bagel that you could’ve made at home for pennies. Because if you wanted to make it at home, you would’ve made it at home,” he grumbled.

I began to ignore him so that I didn’t have to hear him go on his spiel about the United States being a capitalist paradise. And it being the “American Dream.”

Logically, I knew.

But I volunteered enough that I saw what the economy was doing to us. I knew that there were people out there struggling to make a living and barely treading water.

I’d never experienced it myself.

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