Fateful
3:04pm and 53 seconds...54....55…...56.
It’s been exactly 3 days and 4 seconds...5...6….7... since I put up “Hiring Now” posters. I understand at how protracted and tiring the job process is but I’m in desperate need. It shouldn’t be this hard to find one patissier.
“At this rate I’ll end up having to sell the shop so soon….” I mumbled mournfully.
Outside, the scene of Friday afternoon traffic took place. Angry parents with animated hand gestures, congested cars mixed of buses and taxis, high schoolers in groups laughing as they hold frosty snacks. The broiling summer sun was evident on the slick faces of the perspiring yet like everything else in the metropolis, citizens continued on without hint of fatigue.
Well for the city, this is comparatively normal anyways.
Sitting up from the table, the moistness on my cheek cools and I firmly rub my shoulder against it. Feeling drained, I slowly rise out of the wooden chair and yawn.
“I guess I should at least practice baking.”
I mean, yeah? How hard can baking a few cakes and cookies be?
Stepping behind the counter, I walk towards the scarcely touched door and open to that barren kitchen room.
Smelling like usual as a home supply store, I put on the interim apron. “Just like Mom...” I think as I look down at the painful frilly and pink appearance with Made With Love in cursive.
“Mom…” Just mentioning the name brings back some crestfallen memories. “that’s all in the past.....things are different....”
Ignoring that annoyingly present twinge of pain in my chest and sudden emergence of a cold sweat with , I walk towards the stainless steel refrigerator. Opening the door I take out eggs, milk and butter while I levitate the baking powder, salt, sugar, vanilla and flour from the pantries onto the counter. Everything needed for a simple vanilla cake and cupcakes. Preheating the electric oven with a familiar click and woosh, I crack my knuckles and start getting to work.
3 failed cake attempts, one burnt and the other two with severely unproportioned ingredients. A tray of cupcakes with too much vegetable oil just made it oily and taste…..weird? Strange at best.
Sighing, I turn off the oven and look at the time on my phone.
9:54pm. The trains are going to stop running soon.
As my screen turns off I look at my reflection. Flour pops out on my dark blue hair, accentuating the dusty-patterned look. I somehow rubbed butter on my glasses and face, most likely going to affect my acne. Looking down at myself I notice flour is basically everywhere I can see.
“This should be a fun train ride….” Quickly getting out of my seat, I head to the sink to wash my hands. "try to do something for myself and it ends up a mess," I angrily grumble.
Finishing up, I stuff the dirty apron into my shoulder bag and start heading towards the glass door. As I’m reaching for my keys I feel my phone vibrate continuously.
“Oh? Someone’s calling me? It’s kinda late though….”
Unknown number. From NY, U.S.A.
Answering the call, I hear a considerable amount of noise on the other line. Sounds like...party music and various voices. It's so loud it seems as if the call is taking place in a club.
“Um….H-hello?” Meekness cracks through my voice, indicating the nervousness.
“Hello? Is this…..um, Pastel? That new cake shop?” A smooth and silky voice responds back.
Huh? “O-oh, uh, yes!” That’s right, the name of my shop….
“Cool. I heard there was an opening for a...patissier?” Hearing a smirk in the voice, I also notice the gradience of noise going from loud to quiet, now replaced by cars.
Is this my chance? My miracle in Heaven?
“Why yes, you’re actually my first candidate!”
Oof, that just makes my shop sound mundane.
“Awesome, I was wondering if I could do an in-person interview?” A voice of now subtle inquiry.
I must’ve just been saved by God himself
“O-of course!” My stuttering is being out of control. “Does u-um...tomorrow at 9 am s-sound good?” Yeesh.
“Yeah, that’s good,” A chuckle “See you.” Beep.
A moment passes, two….three, before I processed the situation.
“Someone actually wants to work...here?”
Fully closing the glass door, I think some more then do an energetic fist bump in the air.
“This changes everything!” I pratically yell. Several street-goers stare at me in confusion but continue on walking.
Noticing the attention, I clear my throat and put my hands back down. "Maybe just a tad bit excited,"I say sheepishly.
Taking out my phone, I save his number as “Potential”. Just to remember for future reference.
“And...uh, your name is?”
“Akira Amamiya”
Scribble, scribble. Interesting name.
“...”
He’s staring at me. “...Yes? Is there something you need?”
“And yours is?” He asks me but his face shows no sign of puzzlement.
“What’s...mine?” I don’t get this guy, he’s already weirding me out.
His face shows a tiny fraction of perplexity then slowly after something flashes in his eyes. The tiny fraction of perplexity then turns into a miniscule fraction of amusement.
“Your name. What’s your name?”
Oh, of course… “O-oh, haha. Um, my name’s Lucine Calisto.”
His eyebrows slightly raise in curiosity as his lips quirk into a small smile.
“Cool name,” His fixes his white, circular glasses “but I’ll just call you Boss.”
“O-oh! You don’t have to do that!...” The thought of someone using a formal title for me is almost embarrassing. I don’t think I could handle a day…
“Then how will I address you?”
“You can just c-call me Lucine. Or Mr. if you would like.”
“Oh, ok,” He then just sits there with his red, piercing eyes staring right back at me.
The action alone increasingly makes me nervous “U-um, is there som-”
“Why do you stutter so much?” The question is abrupt and I’m slightly stunned.
“U-um, wh-what?”
“That. Why do you stutter so much?” He hasn’t stopped staring at me. His red eyes are always distinct in my field of vision no matter where I look from away his face.
“I-it’s just t-that I-”
“I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” For the first time today he actually shows a considerable amount of emotion. A tiny bit of regret. “I probably shouldn’t have asked such a direct question…” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Oh, u-um. That’s okay!” I really should stop this stuttering now that I think about it.
“Anyways, what was the next question you wanted to ask me?”
“Well, what is your current occupation?”
“Used to be a cook.”
“Ok, then have you committed a misdemeanor and or felony?”
“Oh yeah, plenty.”
He stated that so matter-of-factly!?
“E-ex-excuse me, what did you just say?”
“I said that I’ve committed misdemeanors and felonies. More than a dozen actually.”
Oh my god, what?! My face involuntarily scrunches up as I feel intense terror from the words just spoken to me. I somehow let an ex-felon into my establishment, what if he gets angry that I’ve turned him down? What if he kills me because--wait, is he laughing?! “W-w-what are yo-o-u l-l-laughing for?!” He must be crazier than I thought.
“I’m sorry,” His eyes crinkle up as he lets out cheerful laughs “You’re so anxious-looking that I started laughing out of nowhere.” He continues to giggle with a sly smirk. “I’m was just lying”
“H-huh?” Lying?
“Just wanted to joke around. I wanted you to liven up.” His giggling then ends into a warm smile.
“Well, c-can you not do that again? Jeez…” I try to put on an angry front to divert from how I’m might have just looked like a scared child. It apparently didn’t work.
“It’s ok. It’s normal to fear some criminals so your reaction was just as expected,” His tone at the end changes with his now sly smirk he once shows again.
He’s obviously making fun of me at this point…
“W-well! Whatever, next question!”
He then laughs at my hastiness. I then feel a tug on my lips, unable to keep myself together.
“So, what's your current experience with cooking?" I tap my pen against the edge of the clipboard.
"Well, I constantly helped...my uncle when I was in high school with his coffee shop. He showed me how to make many home meals. Oh, uh and I also was friends with a sweet tooth so I always made desserts for her," Pulling out his phone, he shows me multiple pictures of desserts and meals. "She was obsessed with my food so there's a whole archive."
Each and every one of these dishes looks amazing. I'm blown away by how someone so young can cok so well. "Wow, Mr. Amamiya. This is some great work..." Completely dazed, I take the phone and continue scrolling through the gallery.
"Ahhhh, it's really nothing. I just had a ton of help and practice," He sits back in his chair with a statisfied smile.
"Ok next. Do you have any notable skills?"
"Well, I'm very social. And I was valedictorian in high school so I'm good at math and literacy," After the sentence, he pushes up his glasses and the glare from the light whites the lens.
Valedictorian? I couldn't even maintain a B average in my math and social studies classes...
"Hm, well, we still have a couple more questions so sit tight."
"Well, necessary to say it, I think you're hired!" Levitating the phone back, I give him a warm smile.
"Wait, just like that? No complete background check or prying questions? Nothing?" He looks at me with a confused expression full of disbelief.
"I mean, of course I still have to background check and do some stuff with the government but I believe you won't cause me any trouble. Besides your first day will be after I do all the information input so It'll still be legal."
"Huh," Akira looks to the floor, thinking.
"Also, I'll need you to fill out these forms. Y'know stuff like W-4 and I-9, boring part of the process. Here's the handbook, just a page of things I wish to expect from you but nonetheless important. You're first day is 2 weeks and 3 days from today, I hope to start working with you," Giving him the papers, I try my most genuine smile.
"Oh, thanks. See you in a few," Giving a two-finger wave, Akira walks out the cafe and down the street.
Once he is out of view, I take off my glasses puffing out and shaking profusely, "Oh, thank God! I thought I was going to mess that up somehow. Those business websites really saved me life just now," Slouching in the chair, I smile with true happiness, "but atleast I found someone to help me."
