Seven fallen angels incapable of falling in love. One girl that can keep them from spiraling into darkness.
Used to waiting on others to make a decision, Grey is a waitress at a high-end cafe. That is, until she finds herself lured into a parallel...
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There should be a Waiter and Waitress Olympics.
Grey ignored the concept when it came from Julia's mouth thirty seconds ago, but now that the idea lodged itself in her brain as she took this customer's order, it was brilliant. The older woman across the counter made kissing sounds as she examined each pastry in the glass display case, using an oily finger to point to which ones she preferred.
"Two of those. Four of those. Seven of these."
She thought of what it would be like to be in skates before an international crowd running to prepare the right combination. How many could she carry on a tray? Could she keep her balance as they slid around overhead? What would the judges be like? Grey checked the glazed donuts the lady picked out. There weren't even seven available.
"Don't let them touch, I don't like mixing sugars and fillings. If you can, could you make the box you deliver them in baby blue? It's my favorite color, so I'll know it's my order."
She continued to scribble on her notepad, careful not to miss a detail. "Of course. Any other requests?" Grey bit the inside of her cheek, praying that was it.
"I'd like to have a message come with the delivery too. You see, we're having a special retirement party for my supervisor. It needs to be very memorable. Are you able to write what I'd like to say now, or should I return closer to the designated day?"
"I--," Grey began. Nervously, she looked from her scribbles to the elder. How much was the lady planning to say? She'd really make her write it all down? Moreover, if this shriveled woman was just an employee, what was her supervisor? A bag of bones?
Grey stumbled at a hard push to her shoulder. Julia hissed in her ear. "You're short-circuiting. Earth to Grey!"
Right. A customer waited patiently to have her order taken during her daily commute. Grey just had to decide on that "special" request. "I-I, uhh...,"
Julia piped in. "What my dear coworker is trying to tell you is that it would be best if you returned closer to the delivery date. Isn't that right, Grey?"
Yes, exactly. "Yes."
"Thank you for your time, Miss." Julia nodded curtly, aiming a sinister smile at the woman. The lady's raisin-like face contorted further as she scowled at Grey and marched towards the entrance. As soon as she waddled out of hearing range and sight, Julia heaved a dramatic sigh.
"How long have you worked here?"
Grey had been working at The Parlour for a few months, almost a year. Nothing spectacular. And totally not worthy of replying to Julia's venomous sarcasm. So, Grey put the notepad back in the pocket of her apron and strode towards a dirty table. Snatching up a few empty glasses, she returned to the kitchen and placed them in the sink.
Back on the main floor, she rubbed at leftover circles of water with a damp rag and pushed the chairs back under the table. Next, she fished her pen from behind her ear and dug for her notepad. A few more customers had wandered through the door and were already eyeing the menus lying on the tables.
