boost, sandwich wraps, soups and salads, and my personal living hell on earth: fresh daily and incredibly tasty bakery treats.
Customers have always hung around the store. Since Laissez Fare opened, a significant number more stayed to eat and drink while they did homework, browsed and read, hung out with friends, or hit on my assorted staff members. As long as people spent money and didn’t cause any commotion, I was cool with it all.
Anna was making a living doing something she loves, and by existing on a miniscule wage, has almost paid me back the start up costs. I leased out the space, got a percentage of the profits, and free coffee drinks for life. She cut me off cold turkey from free bakery goodies a week after opening. I loved or hated her for that, fluctuating with my blood sugar levels.
Banging away in her kitchen this morning, Anna complained, “Are you on speaker? I hate that tunnel sound. What are you doing now, anyway?”
“I’m rubbing oil on my buttocks. Gots some ground to cover, but I’ll be done in a minute.”
Anna’s laugh ended on a groan. “Oh god, tell me about ass acreage. I have got to quit eating my product. I’m getting depressed my jeans are so frickin’ tight lately.” Anna’s figure is small on top and bigger on the bottom. Any weight gain did go straight to her thighs and gluteus maximus, but on the bright side; she has a slender neck and thin face.
“Huh, that’s never a good sign. Perhaps wearing a muzzle while cooking may help?” I suggest, helpful friend that I am. I glanced in the full length mirror and checked out my waistline. I should probably thank my friend for cutting me off the sugar gravy train.
Anna’s ungrateful suggestion what I could do with a muzzle made me think she didn’t find me helpful in this instance.
“Are we still on at ten for spying in St. Paul today?”
“Okay by me.” Frowning, I thought of the sleeping Luke. He had to be awake and long gone before ten this morning when I needed to leave. If not, I could leave him a note. I guess since he had no problem unlocking my door somehow last night to come and get me, he could manage locking it on his way out.
“I’ll be there before ten. Hey, wait. What are you wearing?”
“Umm…I’m naked.”
Anna burst out laughing. “Junior! I meant tonight when we go to The Rock. Are you dressing up?”
Ana likes to know what others are wearing before we go out. I’ve never cared what other girls are wearing. I can get excited over clothes, shoes have been known to cause spontaneous combustion, and jewelry—well, what happens between me and earrings is too private to describe, but I’m missing the let’s-all-dress-alike gene common amongst so many of my girlfriends.
I put the gardenia oil aside, took the phone off speaker, and went into my closet once again. “Anna Lynn, I’m not even dressed for the first time today, much less thinking about tonight. You’ll be the first person I’ll tell when I decide. I’ll post on face book and then twitter about it.”
“Like that will happen, you Neanderthal!” Anna snorted loudly.
I always give her grief about her religious devotion to social networking; particularly re-tweeting. She’s always got an eye on her phone or a screen. I was a social throwback compared to her. I find nothing redeeming about face book for social purposes. I get very sick of friends stalking friends on face book—who went out, who wasn’t invited, who was in pictures, who was unfriended--the damn drama it causes seems endless.
Anna switched topics. “Are you done with that zombie book yet so I can read it? Hey, did Luke ever end up calling you last night?”
“Nope, I fell asleep while reading and Luke didn’t call me.” I wasn’t fibbing.
“Oh, no! Isn’t that weird for him to miss a Friday night phone call? Aren’t you nervous?”
Anna knew Luke called me on the Friday nights when he was working—a ritual he had started after the first week we met.
Customers have always hung around the store. Since Laissez Fare opened, a significant number more stayed to eat and drink while they did homework, browsed and read, hung out with friends, or hit on my assorted staff members. As long as people spent money and didn’t cause any commotion, I was cool with it all.
Anna was making a living doing something she loves, and by existing on a miniscule wage, has almost paid me back the start up costs. I leased out the space, got a percentage of the profits, and free coffee drinks for life. She cut me off cold turkey from free bakery goodies a week after opening. I loved or hated her for that, fluctuating with my blood sugar levels.
Banging away in her kitchen this morning, Anna complained, “Are you on speaker? I hate that tunnel sound. What are you doing now, anyway?”
“I’m rubbing oil on my buttocks. Gots some ground to cover, but I’ll be done in a minute.”
Anna’s laugh ended on a groan. “Oh god, tell me about ass acreage. I have got to quit eating my product. I’m getting depressed my jeans are so frickin’ tight lately.” Anna’s figure is small on top and bigger on the bottom. Any weight gain did go straight to her thighs and gluteus maximus, but on the bright side; she has a slender neck and thin face.
“Huh, that’s never a good sign. Perhaps wearing a muzzle while cooking may help?” I suggest, helpful friend that I am. I glanced in the full length mirror and checked out my waistline. I should probably thank my friend for cutting me off the sugar gravy train.
Anna’s ungrateful suggestion what I could do with a muzzle made me think she didn’t find me helpful in this instance.
“Are we still on at ten for spying in St. Paul today?”
“Okay by me.” Frowning, I thought of the sleeping Luke. He had to be awake and long gone before ten this morning when I needed to leave. If not, I could leave him a note. I guess since he had no problem unlocking my door somehow last night to come and get me, he could manage locking it on his way out.
“I’ll be there before ten. Hey, wait. What are you wearing?”
“Umm…I’m naked.”
Anna burst out laughing. “Junior! I meant tonight when we go to The Rock. Are you dressing up?”
Ana likes to know what others are wearing before we go out. I’ve never cared what other girls are wearing. I can get excited over clothes, shoes have been known to cause spontaneous combustion, and jewelry—well, what happens between me and earrings is too private to describe, but I’m missing the let’s-all-dress-alike gene common amongst so many of my girlfriends.
I put the gardenia oil aside, took the phone off speaker, and went into my closet once again. “Anna Lynn, I’m not even dressed for the first time today, much less thinking about tonight. You’ll be the first person I’ll tell when I decide. I’ll post on face book and then twitter about it.”
“Like that will happen, you Neanderthal!” Anna snorted loudly.
I always give her grief about her religious devotion to social networking; particularly re-tweeting. She’s always got an eye on her phone or a screen. I was a social throwback compared to her. I find nothing redeeming about face book for social purposes. I get very sick of friends stalking friends on face book—who went out, who wasn’t invited, who was in pictures, who was unfriended--the damn drama it causes seems endless.
Anna switched topics. “Are you done with that zombie book yet so I can read it? Hey, did Luke ever end up calling you last night?”
“Nope, I fell asleep while reading and Luke didn’t call me.” I wasn’t fibbing.
“Oh, no! Isn’t that weird for him to miss a Friday night phone call? Aren’t you nervous?”
Anna knew Luke called me on the Friday nights when he was working—a ritual he had started after the first week we met.
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