Page 10 of Cupcake of the Month (Just Add Peaches #2)
“The hopper has the munchies, Kenny. Feed the hopper.” Josh said to his coworker.
This was the third time in as many days he was teaching Kenny to grind meat.
The normal steps weren’t sticking in his memory, so Josh improvised.
“But remember, the hopper has teeth, so you have to send the food with a stick. Otherwise, you get chopped.”
Kenny grasped the food pusher and put it in the machine. The grinder hummed as it dispensed globs of ground beef to his wide-eyed delight that belied his early-twenties age. “Hey, I did it!”
Josh gave him a clap on the shoulder. “Good job.”
The grinder turned off after parceling out the food, leaving the cutting room in relative silence, except for Kenny’s exclamations of wonder.
“That was cool, dude. Can we do it again?”
“We have to finish this one up first.” Josh showed him how to tightly wrap the raw beef before putting it in the display case.
Unfortunately, George had come up beside them in his pristine green apron and scrutinized every step, tapping his foot against the red-tiled floor. “Hey, Lukasik. You turned the plastic wrap the wrong way.”
Josh gritted his teeth and prepped the next Styrofoam container to await Kenny’s newfound skill. “Your turn. All the way.”
“You’re supposed to pull to the right. I pull to the right,” George said. “You’re pulling to the left.”
“I’m left handed.”
“Why should that make a difference?”
“Dude.” Kenny gestured with the food pusher like he was casting a spell. “He does everything backwards. You should watch him write something. It’s funny.”
George frowned, but Josh continued to show Kenny what to do. As long as he used the plunger and didn’t stick his fingers inside the machine, the most dangerous thing was the serrated blade on the plastic wrap.
Kenny successfully wrapped three packages with only minimal corrections along the way. Finally, he did one perfectly.
“Great job,” Josh said. “You get a gold star.”
“Awww, dude. I had some of that when I was in California.” His fingers twitched as if he held a joint, and he lowered his voice. “But I could get fired if I had it here, right? Can you give it to me after work?”
“No, not...it’s a sticker. For doing something right.” Josh sighed.
“Why would I want to smoke a sticker?”
“Getting my employees high, Lukasik?” George stood behind them, arms folded over his chest.
“No, sir.” Josh filled the words with enthusiasm.
George glared at him, but Josh knew he’d hear the sir as a sign of respect and dismiss the sarcasm.
“It’s that time again. Grease traps and trash.” George’s grin was especially malicious. “Since pickup is tomorrow, you’ll have to get inside and stomp on the bags to make room. Hop to it.”
Not for any amount of money in the world. Okay, for some amount of money in the world, but not for what Josh got paid at Essie’s. It was probably against OSHA regulations anyway. He waited until George had disappeared again and grasped Kenny by the shoulders. “You got this.”
“Dude.” Kenny heaved out a long breath, staring at the grinder as if it could suck him in and dispense Kenny burgers. “If you’re sure.”
“Completely.” Josh gave him an encouraging nod, then headed to the grease traps.
He lowered his apron to cover the length of his legs. The job was gross, but now that Josh learned how to minimize the splatter, it wasn’t the most awful thing he could do.
Emptying the grey industrial-sized trash containers was much worse. They were filled to near bursting with shells and bones and other waste from the meat department that created an aromatic nightmare.
The dumpsters in the alcove of the parking lot were overflowing, as George had predicted, with strips of fat and empty cans decorating the top.
A few bags had come untied, the bones and solid grease and used paper towels spreading like a blanket over the rest of the contents.
The humidity helped intensify the stench to near-gagging proportions.
Cars zoomed in the lot behind him, the poor souls who couldn’t find a space in front and would have to walk a mile to the entrance.
Josh put the bags on the ground and tucked the extra ones he had carried into his apron strings, then picked up a full one and pumped it up and down, testing its weight.
It had some heft, but it shouldn’t be too hard to toss it to the top of the pile.
He swung it back and forth a few times, gathering momentum. He might not have a softball arm like Jordan, but being this close? It would be hard to miss Mount Trashmore.
He swung back, ready for the big throw, but the bag became weightless in his hand. He still clutched the top, but the rest of it had ripped away. The detritus of doom hit the pavement behind him in a staccato concert. Perfect.
A gasp sounded over the falling garbage, followed by a feminine cry of “Josh!”
Josh closed his eyes. He knew that voice, which had called out in surprise but not pain. Although he’d fantasized about hearing her call out his name again, this was not what he had envisioned.
He squared his shoulders and turned around.
It was worse than he’d pictured. Jordan stood in a cheery yellow sundress, the banana peel on her head the least stylish beret in the fashion world.
Bits of cucumber skins and egg shells lay on her chest along with other nasty things, while chicken bones, lumps of congealed fat, and Styrofoam trays created a path from her feet to Josh.
“Sorry about that.” A laugh welled up in his chest but he held it in. Even with the unwanted accessories, she looked vibrant and alive.
“Oh, you so owe me.” Jordan’s eyes widened behind the frame of her brown glasses, and she held her lips in a straight line. One corner quirked up, giving Josh a measure of relief. “Big time.”
He smothered a chuckle. “Come on. You’d be laughing if our situations were reversed.”
Very slowly and deliberately, she used two fingers to grasp the peel off her head and held it out at arm’s length. “This used to be my favorite dress.”
He rushed to open one of the bags he had tucked into his apron. She plucked the debris off her body piece by piece and tossed them in. He could help, but didn’t think she’d appreciate his hands skimming over her, no matter how good his intentions.
“I’ll pay your dry cleaning bill.” Somehow.
It was his fault; he should accept the consequences.
He used his feet to gather the bones and containers into one big pile.
The heavy weight of her eyes made each move more difficult.
This job was a completely different track than what he had planned for his future.
She blew out a quick breath, and he tensed for a sharp reprimand. “Brandi said she spoke to you about working at Fountenoy Hall. I’m sort of living there for a bit.”
The swift change of subject made his head reel until he remembered. Jordan was steady. Practical. Her dress could be fixed, and therefor did not require additional time or attention. The feelings he’d been squashing since seeing her at the fundraiser came swimming back to the surface.
“I’m not taking the job.” He took another bag out of his apron and scooped the trash with the bag around his hands. “What happened to Connecticut?”
Her eyes widened, and he realized he had admitted to checking up on her. Crap.
“I’m helping Wendy and Brandi while taking an extended vacation.” She held out a list. “I’m shopping for them now. Passing by the dumpsters at this exact moment was a fortuitous coincidence.”
The sound of the back door closing echoed in the alcove and Josh stiffened. Please let it be a regular employee taking a smoke break. Please let it be someone shoplifting a steak and taking the easy way out. Please let it be anyone other than…
“What in Sam Hill are you doing?” George exclaimed. “Oh, this goes beyond, Lukasik. Way beyond.”
“Hi, George.” Jordan gave a high-wattage smile and stepped between Josh and his manager. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
Part of Josh was thankful for the interference, but this was his responsibility. He moved in front of her again.
George’s beady eyes took in the scene around him – the stream of garbage and broken bag, the blobs of fat. “This is your idea of taking out of the trash?”
Like Josh had done it on purpose. He scooped the trash by his feet into the bag.
“Don’t bother trying to hide your laziness. You’re done. Get your stuff and get out of here.”
“Oh, George, no. This was a fluke,” Jordan protested. “The bag broke. I know you’re smart enough to see that.”
George ignored her. “You’ve been nothing but a pain in my side since you got hired. I’m going to enjoy watching you walk out of here.”
Images of the bills Josh had to pay and saving for Zach’s non-existent college fund and the price of gas and groceries flashed through his mind. He could grovel. Apologize for something that was clearly an accident.
Jordan was using her persuasive abilities and encouraging smile to explain what had happened, trying to give herself the blame. It was fruitless, but the mere fact that she’d try to help him, even now, after what he had done to her…
She fell silent when it was obvious George had more on his mind than being fair. He fixed his stare on Josh. “I’ll escort you inside to get your belongings,” he said.
“No need. I have everything with me.” Josh took off his apron and flung it at his now-former manager. “Have fun picking all this crap up, you schmuck. And don’t call me for help when you fuck up the orders.”
He turned away, leaving George sputtering about the mess and how Josh couldn’t leave it like that.
He prepared to stride off, when he remembered Jordan was still there and had witnessed the entire episode.
Well, screw that, if she couldn’t handle his display of temper.
He had held it in for too long. He sauntered past her.
“Bravo,” she murmured.
Her approval startled him, but he found himself smiling. Could he torture himself for the next month, being so close to her?