Food Courting

Chapter 4: Close Combat

For nearly the rest of her shift, Cora couldn't bring herself to look across the battlefield—or rather, the food court—without cringing in embarrassment. She had no idea what had emboldened her to do such inappropriate things during lunch, but whatever the reason, it had vanished with her pride. All that remained were her memories and flushed cheeks that accompanied them.

It was easier for Cora to distract herself when Kevin left at the end of his part-time hours, and it was just Cora and Darlene handling the late afternoon rush of office workers and students. Once those customers left, though, returning home to their families and friends for dinner, it was back to cleaning and recleaning every exposed surface Cora could get her rag-gripping hands on.

She had been wiping down the steam wand for the fifth time when she finally gathered the courage to observe the enemy. While she ducked behind the relative safety of the espresso machines, Cora peered around the corner, holding a towel against the metal rod in case she was somehow caught spying.

The food court was mostly empty, save for a few customers picking up takeout orders from the neighboring restaurants, a custodian mopping the floor, and a couple mall workers waiting at the tables as they scrolled through their phones. The only sounds were chatting employees, clattering pans, and running faucets—even Angie the Orange was graciously silent.

Suddenly, the sound of motorized blades crushing ice drowned out the other noises, and Cora's eyes darted over Fruitastic's storefront. But no matter how long she stared at it, it was empty; not only were there no customers, but there were no employees either.

Before Cora could panic about either hallucinating or being surrounded by ghosts of baristas past, she finally saw movement behind Fruitastic's encased blenders. A second later, the top of Farron's black hair poked up from behind them, but the rest of her head remained hidden as the blender continued to churn. Cora squinted as if that could help her see through the blenders' clouded shields. Was Farron hiding from her too?

Suddenly, Farron's tattooed arm emerged from behind the wall of blenders and splayed across the counter, and Farron's head leaned on it shortly after, her grumpy gaze focused on the fruit being chopped to bits. She wasn't hiding, she was resting. The so-called "assistant manager" was lounging on the clock. If Cora sprawled across the countertops to rest her aching legs, Darlene would probably string her up by them. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad... It would at least draw more attention than their flimsy banner.

Farron only stood up straight when the blender stopped, and it wasn't a surprise when she took her dear time pouring the drink out into a sample cup. Before Cora could mentally criticize the woman over making samples so close to closing time, Farron did the unthinkable: she drank it. She hadn't made the smoothie for a customer—she made it for herself!

Cora clenched the steam wand, her wide eyes glued to Fruitastic. She wasn't sure what she was waiting for—it definitely wasn't to watch Farron's oversized arms swirl the blender around, nor was it to watch her sloppily lick the smoothie remnants from her lips. Maybe Cora expected an oversized Angie the Orange to swoop down from the ceiling and kick the blender out of Farron's hand. If Cora ever dared to make herself a drink at Cool Beans, she probably wouldn't have a chance to shovel ice into a blender before Darlene—

"Cordelia, if you break that, it's coming out of your paycheck," Darlene snapped from the other side of the counter.

Cora immediately released the steam wand, and the ache in her hand dissipated as soon as she noticed it.

"Sorry!" Cora exclaimed as she jumped up and stood tall, doing her best to flash her hopefully innocent smile. "I was getting a little too...into it."

As soon as Darlene raised her eyebrows, Cora realized how bad her excuse sounded, especially when Darlene's gaze shifted to the inappropriately shaped steam wand that was now sticking out at an upward angle.