Page 5 of Property of Chaos

Colorful gardens surround the simple square construction like a warm hug.

My focus shifts right to where I saw the pretty little thing drop her shit, then back to the cottage.

There are no other houses down here.There’s only one place she could have come from, andthatis not a house that looks as though it has a man living inside it.

Well, howdy do neighbor.

THREE

VANESSA

“Excuse me.”

I hastily fold the medical report and shove it back into my pocket. “Hi.”

A young woman stares back at me, takeout cup pinched between forefinger and thumb as though she’s plucked it from the dumpster. “I ordered full cream withnosugar.” She drops the offending beverage on the counter several inches above the black marble. “This is oat milk.”

The cup bounces, tilts left, and loses its lid and contents over the surface.

For fuck’s sake.“I’m sorry. Let me check the order and remake it.”

“Let you check what?” she sasses, arching a thick brow. “Are you calling me a liar?”

I drag my gaze down her tanned arms, over the strategically curated bracelets, to the impeccable nails tipped in white. “I need to check that I didn’t mix up your order with another one.” Last thing I need is some poor lactose-intolerant individual dashing from bathroom to bathroom the rest of the day.

“Do that on your own time,” she quips, stepping back to avoid the coffee that spills off the front edge of the counter. “Make me what I asked for. Or is that too hard for you to wrap your head around?” She squints, and I catch the glimmer of an infinitesimal nose stud as she enunciates slow and rounded, “Full. Cream.No. Sugar.”

Having a job is still better than watching the shadows crawl over the walls of your house.I close my eyes briefly, rolling my lips as I count to three. “Fine.” The reply comes out sharper than I intended.

She recoils as though I spat at her. “Fine?” The young woman turns her head with such vivacity that her long blonde hair fans out behind her. “Do you hear this?”

Do you hear yourself?I gather a cloth to sop up the warm mess inching toward the stack of paper serviettes and sneak a look at the person she speaks to from beneath my lashes.Right…A man in a neat suit rises from a seat nearest the window, snapping his laptop shut with a flourish.Dramatic much?“What’s the issue?” His voice commands the room despite having barely lifted it above conversation level.

I remember seeing these fuckers come in, yet Theresa was the one to serve them. I’m starting to feel that was an initial lucky break on my part.

My boss lifts her head from where she takes an order in the annex behind me.Great.

“This incompetent, woke bitch got my order wrong, and instead of apologizing and making me afreereplacement, she tells me she wants to mess around checking the order,” the young woman gripes, mocking my words. “She’s calling me a liar.”

I toss the cloth and slam the coffee grinds into the portafilter. If she keeps going this way, I’ll call her a hell of a lot more in a minute.

“Are you refusing her a replacement?” Mr. Not-his-fucking-business’s dark gaze scrutinizes me despite the fucker never once breaking eye contact.

My clothes suddenly feel dirty. “I did not.” I lift the full-fucking-cream milk from the fridge and swirl it toward the metal jug with enough of a curl in my wrist that they can’t help but catch the label. “I simply said I wanted to check I hadn’t mixed up orders in case somebody lactose-intolerant receivedherorder.”

“And how is that Candy’s problem?”

Of course, her fucking name is Candy.“I didn’t say it was. I wanted to do my due diligence, is all.” More of a sour chew than anything sweet, but whatever…

Today isnotthe day to pick a fight with me. The goddamn letter feels like a brick in my pocket.

“Your due diligence,” the fucker scoffs. “The sort you should have applied when making the order the first time?” He approaches the coffee machine, leaning close enough that his jacket lapels brush against the stainless surface.

Swear he moisturises daily. Either that or he hasn’t worked outside a day in his life.

“Is there a problem here?” Theresa sweeps into the serving area through the short swing door to my right.

“Do you screen your staff for competency before hiring them?”

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