Page 4 of Bread By the Grim
“Sir,” says the goat-man. I move closer to him, forcing him to back away. I won’t let it go. The rage won’t let me. His back hits the ambulance, and I lean in close to his face, our noses practically touching.
His body begins to shake, but the part of me that cares is no longer in control. “I will not deal with your incompetence any longer,” I hiss, as he turns his face away from me. I slam my hands against the metal of the vehicle just above his head and run back inside for Bernice.
His men are on their radios almost immediately, but I don’t care. We’re not waiting for them to pull their heads out of their asses.
“Grim?” Bernice calls out as I skitter over to her. She closes her eyes and shakes her head as I come into view around the counter. She’s seen me like this a few times, just enough not to be too shocked. Still, I know I look terrible. The spikes make me hunch over as I approach her, my stance like that of a velociraptor. My face is contorted, my ears huge.
“Grim, why do you let them piss you off?”
I don’t answer her. Instead, I hop over the counter in one fluid movement, landing in the small space between her head and the wall. Without warning her first, I push her by the shoulders hard until she’s in a sitting position. She cries out, no doubt the sudden movement killing her ankle, but there’s no way I’m letting her lay here another hour. Sitting up, her shoulders clear the counter. I lift her to near standing and then carry her out, bridal style, as the firefighters watch from a distance, stopping only to put her down when I find the special gurney made for a Sasquatch.
“Fuck, Grim, was all that necessary?” She sighs as she tries to catch her breath.
“Yesssssss,” I hiss. She leans back and closes her eyes as the EMTs slowly approach us. The goat-man appears again, anger seeping from every pore in his body.
“Mr. Grim, I will not forget your behavior today. The police department will have a full account of your actions?—”
I back up to let the EMTs get closer, hiss at the firefighters still surrounding us, and bound back into the shop to hide. I’m sure I’ve just made a lifelong enemy of the lieutenant, if not the whole fire department, but I don’t have time to deal with anyone’s wounded pride.
I have to sit in my apartment and wait alone until my body decides to return to normal.
Chapter 2
Grim
Between shifting midmorning and the bakery being a mess, I end up shutting the bakery down for a few days. My business neighbors are incredibly generous. Several come by once I’ve returned to normal to help me clean up the mess and set up the glass display cases again. With their help, it only takes a few days to get the bakery back to normal. Ghostlight Falls has its faults—the fire department definitely ranks among them—but I've never lived anywhere with kinder neighbors. Most people here are more than happy to help out a neighbor no matter what your species—even if you’re like me and don’t know exactly what species it is.
Still, we're operating at half our normal capacity with Bernice gone. I am basically useless after midnight and can't pick up the slack. Replacing a morning pastry chef is not an easy thing, and the ad Iput in the Ghostlight Falls Review gets me no serious leads.
I’m hoping for an adult, maybe a mom with kids or a retiree, but I get a few kids who can’t or won’t get up that early and this strange shadow guy who might have been perfect except everything he said had a strangely sexual connotation to it. After the third time he made a joke about being alone and “surrounded by these holes” all the time, I decided that he was not the guy for the shop (or for anything really).
Bernice isn’t old, but she’s definitely not young, and it may take her a long time to heal—even after her ankle gets back to normal. The real fear that she won’t be coming back to the shop takes up a place in the back of my mind, but Iresolve to hold her job for her as long as it takes for her to make a decision.
I expect to wait months before she brings it up, but less than two weeks go by before she sends me a text asking me to come by her house after dinner. I’ve been by her home almost every other afternoon since they let her go home—checking on her and bringing her sweets from the bakery—but this day feels different.
“Grim, I know I said I was planning on coming back to work, but–” Bernice pauses. She’s sitting in an over-sized recliner with her foot propped up. “I think it’s time I retire. This ankle will heal, but I’m not young like you. It’s always going to be a bother now that I’ve hurt it. My daughter’s been after me for a while to move closer to her, and I think it’s time.”
I nod. “You should have called me sooner, Bernice. I’d have helped you pack.”
She tsks and shakes her head. “I don’t have much, and my church group was able to get most of it done. So tell me about the bakery. How’s the ad? You get any applicants yet?”
“A few, but nothing’s panned out so far,” I say, trying to think of something that will sound optimistic. “But you know how the summer is a big time for families to move to Fort Pines. I’m sure we’ll get someone in soon who can–”
She rolls her eyes. “Grim, don’t bullshit me.” Shereaches for her purse and digs around until she finds a plain piece of white paper. “What would you do without me?” she says, mostly to herself as she unfolds it and smooths out the wrinkles before handing it to me.
On the paper are two things–a name and a number:
Phil
555-556-5435
“I have a cousin who has a kid that just graduated from culinary school, and they’re just doing what kids do–drifting around, not doing much, certainly not making enough money to pay those loans back. Anyway, I called my cousin up and told her about your predicament, and the long and short of it is her kid, Phil, will be here tomorrow.”
A college grad drifting around not wanting to work? He sounds like a spoiled brat. Instantly my mind fills with images of the kids I’ve interviewed over the past few days. No one was willing to wake up early enough to even start the coffee for me, let alone replace Bernice. No one wanted to work weekends or turn on ovens or even touch dough. It’s not likely this kid will be much different.
“Thanks, Bernice, but that seems like a lot to come all the way out here for. What if Phil doesn’tlike Ghostlight Falls or isn’t into pastry? What if—” I want to fire him, I almost say but stop myself.
“Don’t you worry about all that. I’ve got a place set up for Phil while you two decide if it’s the right fit.”
