You Taste Like Trouble To Me...

Lotte took a big whiff of the area around her and almost started drooling. The cakes with their vanilla aroma… The pies and all of their sugary/fruity goodness… And those eclairs. It was almost enough to help her tune out the pathetic excuse of a ‘Karen’ standing on the other side of the counter. With a grin, she turned and winked at Julian, the bakery owner, attempting to help ease some of the tension brought on by a woman with nails long enough to double as chopsticks. 

Ms. My-Face-Froze-Like-This-Years-Ago, raised a pencil-thin eyebrow and pursed her lips. “You aren’t hearing me… My daughter is gluten intolerant, but I don’t want a cake tasting like ASS!” 

Julian, looking as if she were about to grow more white hair, tried again, “Ma’am, I assure you that your daughter’s birthday cake is going to taste just fine. We have great reviews when it comes to our gluten-free products.” 

Lotte finally had to turn her back to the whole scene or risk getting caught up counting the number of times this strange woman let her nose flair. Retreating to the kitchen, she mouthed ‘what the fuck!’ to Jeffery, who was adding a finishing touch to a three-layer almond delight. He shook his head in disbelief, having caught a portion of the show as he bee-lined past everyone for a spot of coffee 15 minutes prior. Now he was pointing at the swinging door into the lobby and making obscene gestures that had Lotte in stitches.

It wasn’t as if the 20-year-old was some kind of prude - just yesterday she had skipped home with a Santa look-alike that smelled heavily of cinnamon. There was something about the way Jeffrey—a soft-spoken bohemian who lived in a seaside trailer and knitted blankets for the NICU—could go from ‘Mama of the Year’ to Rated R in two shakes of a pepper grinder that always flushed Lotte’s cheeks.

The sudden loud squeak of the flapping door gained their attention. Julian was using an order form as a fan and shaking her head in disbelief. “That was… exciting.” 

Lotte smirked, “Try bitchy.” 

Julian wagged an aged finger at her youngest member of staff, though her eyes shone with agreement. “Let’s just do our best with this one.” 

Jeffery snorted, “$20 bucks she will be back for a refund, no matter what we do. I say we play it safe and just use boxed batter.” 

Lotte opened her mouth to agree; However, her name was now being hollered from the dining room. Blinking, Julian took a step back through the door and returned a second later. “It’s Romy, dear.” 

“Great,” Lotte sighed. That was all she needed after such a hectic day. 

“CHARLOTTE BROWNLY!” 

Jeffery did a salute of respect and returned to his project. They could all hear the obvious drunken slur that was twined through Romy’s voice. 

Knowing that her Aunt would only continue to shout, scaring away the two customers left in the lobby after the lunch rush, Lotte sped past her boss and right to her intoxicated aunt, arms flapping about to shut the older woman up. “Romy,” The girl hissed, her hazel curls bouncing in every direction. 

The lanky blonde woman’s expression turned sheepish almost instantly, “There is my whittle Princess!” She extended out a polished finger and bonked it over her niece’s nose, a bit harder than she had meant to. “I missed you at the club last night…” 

“Clearly not enough,” Lotte hissed back, motioning toward a chair before the older woman fell over. “I take it you were busy?” 

Romy snorted, her breath reeking of cigarettes and something that resembled cleaning solution. “Baby girl, I had the BEST night!” 

Desperate to sober her family member up, Lotte’s dark gaze found a cup, and she quickly filled it with water from behind the counter. Returning to her aunt’s side, she couldn’t help but wince at the giant bruise forming at the base of the woman’s incredibly long neck. Guilt immediately washed over her - Lotte had, in fact, gone to the club. She saw her Aunt dancing on some table, making a fool of herself, and then quickly left in the arms of a biker named Chris… Her own Chris Cringle. It wasn’t as if Lotte had a particular fetish for older men, or Santa Claus. It was just that her birthday fell 5 days after Christmas, and both tended to be a bust for her. With three weeks left until the ‘Holly Jolly’ day, she saw nothing wrong with celebrating a bit early… and with no clothes on. 

“Any big tips?” Lotte asked hopefully. She needed new underwear after ‘Santa’ had claimed her last good pair. 

Romy shook her head with a snicker, and it was clear where all her money from the night before had gone. 

Rolling her eyes, Lotte glared down at the ‘adult’ in her life and bit down on the inside of her cheek. “Are you hungry?” She finally asked, knowing it was time to get the scones out of the oven. Without waiting for an answer, the young baker made her way back into the kitchen and continued past Julian & Jeffery. Neither inquired as to what was going on with Romy; there wasn’t ever a need to with that crazy woman… Lotte’s only living family member. 

Fishing out the scones, Lotte managed to get them wrapped up and ready for display in record time. The two that had broken upon transporting the tray to the counter were placed on a plate for her Aunt. Ready to face the woman/child once more, Charlotte was about to exit the kitchen when Jeffery popped back through the door with a devilish glint in his eyes. “Hey, who is the stud sucking on your Aunt’s neck?”