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When I’m done with work for the day, I occasionally meet up with Jessa, Tabby, or Riley; but really, getting to the small room upstairs and pulling on pajamas and binging on shows after being on my feet all day is my favorite thing in life right now.
Even though that isn’t advancing my mission, the reason why I chose Rowansville in the first place.
It’s later the following week, when I’m pulling muffins out of the oven that I hear yelling coming from the street. Looking over at the clock, it’s just past five in the morning, so I’m more than a little surprised that anyone else is even up at this hour.
Next, I hear glass shattering and it feels like a weight drops through my stomach. There’s only one thing that could be.
Stepping back, I see what I was most afraid of.
In my rage, I can’t even make out the figures in front of me, just that there’s a pool of glass on the floor of my shop andnothingwhere my storefront window should be.
Royce is standing on the sidewalk with his jaw hanging open. I finally notice a guy in a matching cut, trying to carefully stand up—laughing as he shakes like a wet dog, and spraying glass all over.
“Motherfucker!” the guy cries out and as I slowly approach, I can tell he’s drunk as a skunk. “You fucking pushed me, you asshole!”
Royce’s eyes catch mine and I can see—no! I don’t care if he looks sorry as hell...What on God’s green earth am I going to do with most of my storefront missing?
“I’m calling the cops and you are paying for this!” I screech, sounding surprisingly winded.
There’s no holding back the tears in my eyes. I’ve worked too hard to create this place! It took nearly two months after Iordered the decal of my logo, to be delivered and placed on the picture window, and now it’s destroyed.
Not to mention that I don’t know how I can be open for business today and everything that I’ve already baked will go to waste. “Oh my God, my insurance will go through the roof.”
“Please!” Royce pleads, stepping over the base where the window used to be. “Let us take care of it. No cops, no insurance. We were just fucking around, waiting for you to open. I swear to God, I’ll get this taken care of for you, Molly.”
“Oh, so this is the girl that won’t fuck you again,” the other guy hiccups out and I notice that his hands are bleeding, even if he doesn’t. Turning to me, he continues in a sing-song voice. “Didn’t you enjoy the surprise in his pants? The club whores all seem to…”
“Fucker, we never… Just shut it,” Royce says firmly, gripping his shoulder and giving him a little shake. “Dude, your hands. Molly, can he rinse them off? I’ll make some calls and get this taken care of for you.”
More worried about the blood in my store than the man bleeding, I lead him back to the bathroom and inspect his hands, worried yet too much of a coward to pull the bits of glass out.
“Thass okay,” he slurs. “Royce’ll get Roy…”
“Sit down,” I say, pretty certain he’s just babbling since I don’t know what good Roy could do in this situation. I shove a stool under his ass and talking to him like I would a child, I turn on the water and insist he doesn’t touch anything.
Next, I check that my ovens are turned off and I grab a broom, moving up front to get started on cleaning up. Oh God! It really is a disaster. I look around again, this time the trail of blood makes it look even worse.
Royce is standing outside and is barking at someone over his cell, holding a finger up to me. “I got this, babe. Don’t lift a finger.”
I narrow my eyes and shoot him the bird.
He throws his head back laughing and I want nothing more than to strangle him in that moment.
Looking over his shoulder, I see my first client, an ER nurse who had placed an order with me, pulling up and wave at her frantically—hoping she’ll still accept her order. On top of everything else, I can’t afford to lose that sale.
I scurry to the back and grab the boxes I had prepared, turning on my heel, I almost collide with Royce and if not for him steadying my arms they would have crashed to the floor.
“You can’t be back here!” I growl at him.
“We’re past that now, sugar,” he says, and I turn my head trying to escape the whiskey breath that rushes out at me. “Guys are going to be pulling up ‘round the back, I gotta unlock that door.”
I barely hear what he’s saying as I carry the boxes outside, trying to act dignified as glass crunches under every step I take.
“Hi, Nikki,” I say, smiling brightly. “Sorry for the craziness.”
“Oh, Molly! I don’t know, are the pastries…”
“Nikki, I promise I had them all packaged and ready to go a good twenty minutes before this happened. I would never jeopardize your safety, and you know I appreciate all that you do for this community.”
