Accepting Fate - (Slums to Riches, Book one)

Chapter 4

The moment Angelique and Jamie reported for work, Mrs. Garcia, their dark-haired Portuguese boss, made them draw up lists of everything they needed for the week's specials, and then sent them across the road to the coffee shop for breakfast—out of her pocket, of course.

They always did stock-take on Mondays, but Angelique had to report to Michael's school for a parent's meeting and then asked for the next day off for Jenny's birthday, so Mrs. Garcia waited until that morning when both Jamie and Angelique was present.

She spent the entire ten minutes complaining about Kenneth, whom she had to supervise the previous day after he sent out burned burgers from the kitchen.

Yet, he called himself a chef.

The noise behind Angelique and Jamie increased as four more of their regulars joined the others inside the coffee shop to wait for The Grill to open.

Angelique sipped her coffee and stared across the road. She would have a busy start to her day since her watch already chimed the tenth hour, leaving them two hours before the lunch rush.

The blinds spelled out the name of the restaurant over the windows, which stretched the length of the building. The letters would disappear from view when groups of early morning shoppers, wrapped in their warm coats, rushed by.

Different fragrances and aromas scented the breeze blowing over their table outside the coffee shop: baked bread from the bakery; the ocean's fishy scent as the delivery man opened the tarp over the back of his truck; lavender, rose, lemon, and honeysuckle as the door to the soap shop beside them opened to allow entry to a customer; and last, the invigorating aroma of strong black coffee, waking her tired mind after a sleepless and uneventful night.

Her eyes took on a faraway look as her mind turned back to the previous night. It was not as unproductive as she had thought. Michael did not sleepwalk, and neither he nor Jenny had nightmares. However, Robert patrolled the entire night. She did not know whether he waited for her to fall asleep or watched if she would sneak out for some unknown reason. She would not believe he had anything to do with Michael's fears or bruises, just because she did not like the fat pervert. Not until she had proof.

"Why are you frowning?"

She turned to Jamie, her frown deepening, and then shook her head as she settled back in her seat. "This morning has my head in a mess. Do you think I broke his nose?"

"Who? Bob? I sure hope so. Did you see how he was staring at your ta-tas? Disgusting pig."

"We call them breasts, Jay, and yes, I saw. Which is why I slammed the door in his face. Or the door slammed itself in his face. I don't know. One minute I was thinking how I would like to flatten his nose and the next he and the door flew against the opposite wall."

"You need to get a grip on this new temper of yours."

"Especially after that argument yesterday."

Jamie's magazine fell to the table with a loud clap. "Argument?"

The bell over the soap shop's door jingled again, but this time, an elderly woman with a head full of gray curls, dressed in a floral shirt and slacks, stepped out. All the fragrances inside the shop clung to the owner's skin. She walked across to their table, holding up a small bag, saving Angelique from answering straight away. Jamie would never let her off that easily, though.

"Llegó, Angelique. Eventualmente." (It came, Angelique. Eventually.)

She gave a little skip up the step of the veranda and laid a parcel on their table. Angelique spread her lips into the fake smile she hid behind when addressing residents of Samita.