Bad Apple (Part 1)

Bad Apple (Part 1) by Kristina Weaver

Book: Bad Apple (Part 1) by Kristina Weaver Read Free Book Online
Authors: Kristina Weaver
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Chapter One
    Irina
    I hate my stinking life.
    It’s raining cats and dogs and I’m late for work.
    Which sucks since I’m the boss and everyone knows the boss should never be late. It sets a bad example or something. Now I know my girls won’t be too bothered, but still, they’re likely all huddled beneath the small awning freezing to death because I stayed up late with my beaus Ben and Jerry and watched Gone with the Wind . Again.
    I stayed awake until midnight and then slept late because, like the dummy I am, I forgot to reset my alarm. Silly Binks. And you know what the worst part is? I would’ve been on time but my darned car wouldn’t start. Again.
    So I’m late. Something I haven’t ever been, not even when my ex stole all my shit out of my apartment and pulled a runner on me.
    I wore my Halloween costume to work and showed up pretending I wanted to look like a whorish Bo Peep. It got me a lot of unwanted attention, and by the time I’d served the last customer and cleaned up I looked like the goth version with all my mascara running and my face pale and puffy.
    Crying while you serve people is not okay, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. So what if a sweet little old lady passed me her shrink’s number? I called him and me and Harry have been friends ever since. At least, I see him as a friend. He keeps calling the cops on me and shoving a restraining order under my nose.
    By the time I get to work, it’s pouring and there are a shitload of disgruntled people on my doorstep. Instead of doing what a sane, sensible person should, I dash into the rain and run for the door, almost getting myself trampled as everyone stampedes for the safety of the dry bakery.
    To be fair, it’s not like it’s freaking nine or anything. It’s the crack of dawn, five in the morning. Well, fifteen past the hour and the reason people are now glaring at me as the dogs continue to pour.
    Thank you Jesus I made a shit ton of stuff last night before I left so all we have to do now is make the coffee and start serving.
    “You look like a cat ate you up and shat you out,” Mindsy mumbles as she hands me the first cup out of the pot and flips a complaining customer the bird. “You wait your turn or you can get your pasty ass out of here and I’ll ban you for a month.”
    The man’s eyes go wide and he backs off immediately, knowing that my pal isn’t kidding one bit. One time a guy pissed her off so much, she banned him and his whole family for two weeks.
    When he finally slunk in here with a black eye and his fuming mom and sisters, he was full of remorse and ready to lick my toes just to get back in so his women wouldn’t go that extra step and flay him alive.
    My place is the leading bakery in the city, and I’m not too humble to admit that. I worked my ass off to get it to this point, and the only reason it’s now considered something of a diner too is because I had to consider other people’s health and start offering food to keep them alive for service.
    Hence the fact that I now serve one lunch service for exactly one hour a day. You snooze you lose. Nik takes care of that drivel while I continue to serve pure sugary delight to the city.
    “Hey! Back up off my heat, cheese breath!”
    Ah God, Tat.
    I sip my coffee and look over at Tat, who seems intent on drilling a hole into one guy’s forehead while ringing up a large box of cupcakes, donuts, and my famous breakfast cake while he silently pleads with me to get her under control.
    I just shake my head and smile while my crew goes on getting people their breakfast and talking smack all the while. At this stage, I don’t have a thing to do but to go on back and start throwing myself into my true love—making others as plump as I am.
    That’s my plan. Since I have not one hope in hell of ever looking like a supermodel in a bikini, it’s my dastardly intention to turn the rest of my fine city into plump, happy individuals.
    “Yo, Riri, we’ve run out of

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