Page 16 of Walk on the Wilde Side
I drop another loaf into the machine and wait for ten perfect slices to pop out. There's a knock on the front door. It happens occasionally, anxious customers hoping to get in a little early, but I hold to my shop hours. Otherwise, people would have me opening up before dawn to get in their orders for the day. I recently started accepting internet and phone orders so customers can order sandwiches ahead of time. Hiring Mona helped make that possible. She handles the online orders and the phone most of the time. That way I can focus on running the shop and making the fabulous sandwiches that keep people coming back for more. This summer, the line was out the door almost every day, and I realized I'd really made it. It was a great feeling, but now the pressure was on to keep the shop running smoothly.
I wipe my hands on my apron and walk out front to let the customer know they're early. It's not a customer. Dane is leaned forward smoothing his hair in the reflection in the window. He spots me and flashes his white teeth. Dane is what people might call classically handsome. He's tall and fit with piercing blue eyes and black hair. All the parts are nice and neat and orderly on the man, so neat and orderly, I find him a touch boring. Kinsley thinks I'm crazy, of course, but I can't ever shake the notion when we're together that he's too well put together. One day, on a whim, I reached up and messed with his hair. I just wanted to see him with a more feral look. He got angry enough that I knew never to do it again.
I sigh. It seems my hour of peace is over. I walk over and unlock the door. "Hi, Dane, wasn't expecting you. I'm busy getting the shop ready for opening." I say it airily and hope he'll take the hint, but it's something else I noticed about him. He doesn't take hints.
He pushes inside and grabs me for a kiss. I couldn't act colder and more unimpressed by his romantic gesture but again, no hint taken. "How are you, gorgeous? Thought I'd stop by to say hello before we both get bogged down with the workday."
"Well, my workday"—I glance up at the clock—"started twenty minutes ago, and I've got just forty left before I flip the sign to open."
Still no hint taken, so I just continue with my work. I walk to the kitchen. He follows me. I pull on an apron and he whistles.
"Right, my tomato-stained apron is very sexy. And now I'll start with the very erotic job of cutting red onions."
Dane laughs. It's not a terrible laugh, but I've heard better. I tell myself I'm finding everything grating about him this morning because he interrupted my private time in the shop.
"That's what I love about you. You're gorgeous and funny, Nevvie."
My face shoots up, and I lower the knife. "What did you call me?" I don't plan to say it angrily, but it comes out that way.
"Oh sorry, I thought it'd be a cute nickname."
"Uh, right, I prefer Nev." There's only one person who calls me Nevvie, and it doesn't sound right coming from Dane. I've hurt his feelings but then he did barge in and disrupt my morning.
"Sorry. Nev it is, then."
"I'm sorry, Dane. I'm just, well, getting the shop going in the morning takes all my concentration."
He smirks. "It's a sandwich shop." Obviously, I hurt his male ego more than I realized.
I scowl at him.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You've got a nice little business here. How much are you clearing each year?"
This time my brows go from scowl to shock. I hear the front door unlock. Mona is here early. My solo hour really is shit this morning.
He holds up his hands. "Right, right none of my business. New topic. What did ya think of Rochelle's? I thought the service lacked, but the food was great. The chef came all the way from the Netherlands or one of those high up on the map places."
I shake my head and laugh. "Right, one of those high up places. I think the service was lacking because you snapped your fingers at the woman twice. I used to serve in a restaurant, and I can tell you the quickest way to make me hold back on smiles and service was to snap your fingers my direction."
"She was slow before I snapped," he argues. "And my mom used to work at restaurants. She never said anything about snapping being a problem."
Dane has told me several times about his humble beginnings, raised by a single mom who worked many jobs to get him through school. It's one of the things I admire about him. He's made a lot of money and with no help from family.
"Maybe she never brought it up, and I would think, knowing that your mom was a server would give you just a little more empathy for the people serving your food." I'm on a big soapbox roll this morning. That'll teach him not to show up to the shop first thing.
"Wow, did I do something wrong? Other than, apparently snapping my damn fingers at the sloth-like server?"
I pick up the knife and start cutting. "You haven't done anything wrong, and Rochelle's was very nice. Thank you for taking me there." I don't bring up the fact that his phone rang during the meal, and instead of letting it go to voicemail, he told me he had to take the call. He left the restaurant and stood outside the tinted windows and satiny valances for a good ten minutes. Nothing about the call looked friendly, and he came back in a bad mood. When I asked him if it was bad news, he shook his head and said nothing more about it. It took him another glass of wine to finally get back in the spirit of the date.
"Look, this morning is not going the way I pictured," he says. "Let's go out tonight. I hear there's a great local band playing at the Gold Rush."
I continue with the onions. "You said the Gold Rush was, and I quote 'a dive bar for losers.'"
"Sorry I'm late," Mona says breathlessly. She gives Dane a big, flashy grin. Mona is one of those naturally pretty girls who is always looking to be prettier. It's a big competition in her age group to see who can have the longest lashes, the biggest boobs and the plumpest lips. It's hard to watch and it makes me sad. She's already pretty, but she's slowly losing that natural beauty to the artificial kind people on social media are pushing. Dane seems to appreciate the big boobs and lips. He flashes her a wide white smile, too.
"You're early, Mona," I say.
She pulls out her phone, a device that rarely leaves her hand. "Oh my gosh, you're right. No wonder the shop's empty. Except for you, Dane," she says flirtatiously. She continues to the office to put away her things.
