Baker Boy

Chapter Eight

Surprisingly, Eli was early for work. He was waiting by the door of the Brew House, hands in his pockets, earbuds in his ears. Without speaking to each other at all, Andy opened the door for him and they both proceeded to get their own things done.

Soon enough, the smell of baking pastries filled the dim café. Andy hummed to herself as she powered up all the appliances and logged into the computer. At exactly eight, she flipped the sign at the door over so it read 'open'.

The deliveryman dropped in with three sacks of flour, some powdered sugar, and a dozen lemons. He left the items in a pile by the door to the back of the counter.

"If you don't mind, I'm in a bit of a rush," he informed Andy.

She took the pen and tablet from him. "Of course, I understand." Hastily, she signed her name and gave it back to him. "Have a good day."

"You too, don't work too hard." He rushed out, tipping his hat in farewell.

Bracing herself, she picked up the box that contained the sacks of flour. Then, with a lot of self-encouragement, she walked into the kitchen.

Eli was slaving away at the worktable. He kneaded a large ball of dough into submission, fully focused on his task. Thankfully, he barely noticed Andy as she walked into the pantry. She slid the box into the last shelf and labelled it with a marker, and then she walked out to get the sugar and lemons.

Both the items were reasonably light and Andy could manage a clumsy run-walk into the kitchen to deposit the ingredients. First, she stored the lemons in the fridge, and then she went into the pantry to put away the powdered sugar.

When the pantry's metal door clicked shut, Andy turned around, her heart racing. Eli was squatting on the ground, digging through bottles of food colouring.

"If you could just let me through..." Andy trailed off, finding herself trapped in the pantry.

Eli was mumbling to himself, reciting which colours he needed. "Egg yellow, liquorice, and tangerine/apricot." He repeated to himself.

Clearing her throat, Andy knelt down to look him in his eyes. She gave him a smile as his eyes flicked up briefly to meet her gaze.

"What are you making?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Just some flood icing some duck cookies."

"Why ducks?"

"Because I found a bloody duck cookie cutter."

Frowning, Andy tried to get the nasty mental image out of her mind.

"You're really slow," noted Eli.

"What?"

Now she was starting to get mad. Who did he think he was? He lacked the basic social skills and he thought he had the audacity to insult her intelligence. Andy was infuriated. However, before she could let out her vicious answer, he interrupted her.

"You actually thought it was dripping with blood," he mumbled, shaking his head.

Deacon did not understand why Andy was so angry. She slammed cups onto the metal rack as she set them down to dry.

Confused, he looked at Eli and Andy as the baker brought out the pastries that were done. They refused to acknowledge each other and it was painstakingly obvious that something was wrong. He whistled as Eli headed back into the kitchen.

"It's chilly in here," he remarked.

For that, Andy had him by the throat. "Shut up," she growled.

Deacon pushed her off, watching her warily. He rubbed his neck, eyes narrowing into slits.

"What's gotten into you?"

"I'm sorry," She looked down, ashamed. "It's nothing."

He touched his neck. "Doesn't bloody feel like nothing."

Andy could not blame him for avoiding her all day. She felt hollow but did not know what to say or do. Therefore, she went on with her work, distracting herself until Deacon left. Then one of the customers returned to the counter with a complaint regarding the croissants.

"I'll let you take it up with the baker," she said with a tight smile.

Breathing in deeply, she walked into the kitchen. Eli came out with a carton of milk from the fridge and set it down on the countertop.

"There's a customer looking for you," she whispered as her courage diminished.

He looked up. "Tell that customer I'm busy."

Andy turned back to look at the increasingly irritated teacher. He raised an inquisitive brow.

"Please don't make this difficult."

Pulling the tea towel off his shoulder, Eli wiped his hands before leaving the kitchen. Andy prayed for the customer's safety.

"My pastry is tough," the man stated plainly.

"No it isn't," replied Eli without breaking eye contact with him.

For a moment, the teacher did not know how to reply. Then he composed himself. "You haven't even tried it yet," he pointed out.

Eli shifted his weight over to one leg. "The croissants are going to be like this today; take it or leave it."

"Eli," Andy warned, stepping in. She shifted her focus to the customer and pulled a five-dollar voucher from under the pick-up counter. "I'm really sorry about this, come back another day."

Thankfully, the teacher took it and left the café, but Eli was not faring as well. His hands were balled into fists and he was staring hard at the croissants.

"Can I talk to you," He was breathing hard. "In the kitchen," He turned around. "Now."

Eli did not wait for her.

With clammy hands and a flustered, panicking mind, she stepped through the curtains that separated the front counter from the kitchen.

"What do you want?"

"How much power do you think you have?" he snapped. "You're fucking annoying."

"Eli, what's wrong?" Andy was trying her best to keep her cool.

He ran his hands through his dark hard, and then punched the wooden table top. That led to Andy jumping almost a foot into the air.

"Back in grade school, there was a label for people like you. We used to call the little suck-ups 'teacher's pets', except now, you're a 'manager's pet'. Guess what, little manager's pet? The manager's not here right now, and you are disgusting."

"What do you have against doing the right thing?" Andy retorted, folding her arms.

"Actually, you're not just a manager's pet," he continued. "You suck up to everyone."

"And you're nothing but a bully."

"But you're not going to be able to suck up to me," He rounded the table and grabbed Andy by her shoulders, slamming her into the fridge. "Because I don't like you." He narrowed his eyes.

Andy hissed in pain and tried her best to restrain herself although she desperately wanted to spit in his face, claw his eyes out, and knee him.

"Aellius Johnson, let go of me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

With one last sharp squeeze and a hard push into the cooling racks, he backed off. "Just stay out of my way, Adrianne."