the kink club • luke hemmings ✔️

09. the one where ashton's just trying his best.

chapter nine:
the one where ashton's just trying his best.

I've been forcing my brain to keep up with orders, balance tips and bake cookies in the back oven for some time now. Nothing I do seems to be working. Even Ashton's picked up on my frantic work ethic and I really don't think he finds me sane anymore.

Then again, he's the one who works undercover as someone who teaches sex to girls who know nothing about it. Then again, he's the same guy that we saw come out of Octopussy with a ten inch, double-ended, tentacle dildo. I'd loathe in my own weird ways but then I remember Ashton Irwin and all of that just goes down the drain.

"Soph, is the coffee ready?"

"Soph, these cookies are burnt."

"Soph, is this sugar or crystal meth?"

The last one is what gets to me. I turn to him, pausing my note-taking of a customer's order, a look of disbelief on my face.

"Why on earth would it be crystal meth?"

He shrugs. "Well, Bailey did come by this morning."

"Then ask her what it is," I sigh. Ashton stares at the small mound of white powder- which, in his defense, looks more like a cheap mountain of drugs than it does sugar- and proceeds to stupidly dip his finger in it.

He's just about to bring it up to his lips when I slap his hand away. "Owh!"

"What's the matter with you?!" I exclaim, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"What? I'm curious!"

"Excuse me, waiter lady?" a man with a thick Italian accent pipes up, hands on his hips as he looks at me with raised eyebrows. "Can I get my coffee now?"

"I am so sorry, it'll be with you in a sec-"

"Can I have my scone?" another voice pipes up. It's a woman with a flashy handbag and a stuck up expression. I open my mouth to say something, but someone else interrupts me.

"My latte, waitress. I'm kind of in a rush."

"I need my coffee, I'm going to miss the train!"

"I've been waiting for that tea for over ten minutes now-"

"Excuse me, can I please-"

"Oh, for god's sake," I sigh, dropping everything before briskly making my way into the kitchen, wanting to clear my mind for a second. I see Ashton with his arms elbow-deep in a sink full of soapy dishwater, and I groan.

"Ashton," I say, and he turns his head to look at me. "Look, we have a bunch of busy customers out there and only one person serving them. Or trying to,"

"Tell them to wait a while."

"That's all I've been doing!" I argue, crossing my arms. "Ash, we can't keep working like this."

"Like what?"

"What do you mean like what? We are so understaffed here it's unbelievable,"

"You think I'm staying back here by choice? I want to go out there and help, believe me,"

"Then why don't you-"

"My freaking hand is stuck down the sink!" Ashton yells back, stomping his foot against the floor. I don't think he notices the fallen suds on the tiles, for his foot slips and and he has to grab onto the edge of the sink to keep himself upright. "Son of a-"