Sugar Baby by Erin Pim Page B

both pause, upon entering the kitchen. Chef takes an awkward breath.
    â€œKat, this is your new sous chef, Zachariah. Zach, this is pastry chef Kat McClaire.”
    â€œNice to meet you,” he nods. I feel my jaw hang open, and a tingling sensation accumulates in my chest. Chef raises his eyebrows and gestures towards the change room, intent on continuing their tour. And then, they’re gone.
    I go through the rest of my shift with a mix of barely contained anger and hopelessness, then dart into the change room, hoping to get out of there as fast as possible.
    â€œHey, Kat?” Jeremy peeks his head of shaggy hair.
    â€œGeez! You scared me,” I say, holding my shirt in front of my chest, barely contained by a worn sports bra. I turn around to finish putting it on. “I can’t stay late. I’m already changed.”
    â€œNo, I just wanted to say, I’m sorry you didn’t get the job.”
    â€œOh. Well, yeah. Me too. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
    â€œYeah, I guess. Hey, since you and I won’t be working together anymore.”
    â€œYes?” I say, intimidatingly.
    â€œWell... aww, never mind.”
    â€œWhat, Jer?” I say impatiently.
    â€œOh, just... maybe you and I could hang out sometime?”
    â€œHang out? Listen, Jer. The only way I would get involved with someone right now, is if they had some major money. Seriously.”
    â€œOh. Okay.”
    â€œSorry, that sounded harsh. It’s just that my dreams have basically been crushed in the past few days. I’m just not in the right head space.”
    â€œOh,” he says awkwardly. “Uh...”
    â€œIt’s okay. Never mind. I’ve got to go, anyway.”
    â€œOkay, well. Sorry. See ya.”
    â€œSee ya, Jer.”
    On the way out, that older gentlemen is back at the bar, but without accompaniment. “Hard day?” He asks, as I’m almost out the door. Usually, I wouldn’t give a customer of any kind the time of day, but something stops me this time. Perhaps the familiarity of this particular regular, or the desperate need for help. Or, maybe it’s his caring eyes.
    â€œThat’s an understatement.”
    â€œHmm. I’m sorry to hear that. You’re the pastry chef, aren’t you? I love your Sfogliatelle .”
    â€œYes, I am. Thank you. But, I may not be for long. Maybe, I don’t know.” I laugh, distressfully.
    â€œSounds like you did have a hard day. Would a drink take the edge off?”
    â€œOh, no. Really, I need to be saving up my money.”
    â€œOf course, I meant that it would be my treat, but I understand. Doesn’t kitchen work pay the bills?”
    â€œIt does, but I’m trying to save up. Spend as little as possible.”
    â€œI see. A woman with a plan. Good! May I ask what are you saving up for?”
    â€œI want to start my own business. A restaurant. Just a small cafe, really.”
    â€œHmm, an entrepreneur! Having trouble with loans, if you don’t mind my asking? I’m in finance.”
    â€œYes! I am. Really. I didn’t realize it would be so difficult to get that last little bit.”
    â€œYou have the majority saved up, then?”
    â€œI do. I work like a dog.”
    â€œTsk. Good for you. It’s reflects on positively on your character. You shouldn’t have to, though.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. Stephano , but he introduces himself with his English name. “Stephen. Maybe I could help. Give me a call sometime.”
    â€œUh. Alright. Maybe. Thank you.”
    â€œMy pleasure. I didn’t catch your name.”
    â€œKat.”
    â€œKat. Lovely. I’m serious. Think about it. I may be able to help you.”
    At home, I turn his card over in my hand, but as a last ditch effort, decide to make another phone call. As someone who takes a lot of pride in hard work and independence, I really hoped it wouldn’t have