Black Velvet (62) (Patreon)
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"And you — impulse bought a kitten? What?" I follow him to our stations, and Tobias shrugs, "You impulse buy chocolate when dieting — a set of towels because they're thirty percent off!"
"Are you speaking from experience, Oliver? Do you impulse buy towels often?" He reaches under me to pull the flour bin out and then thinks better of it, stands up — seems to ignore how close his proximity is to mine, and his eyes narrow as I fluster. I don't know if it's the teasing towel comment or the dimple of his cheek rising with his smirk,
"You do, don't you?" Tobias taunts, and suddenly there's a hand at my cheek, in the same spot that I kissed him, and then it's gone as quickly as it was there.
Tobias is happy.
All this time, I've been wondering where I fit. He's made me fit — by being here, even if for the weekend, and he's happy.
He pushes a cup into the flour, crouches down as I gather my fluttering heart,
"I — actually I don't," I straighten, grab the oil off the top shelf and start coating the pans, "but a kitten? What is the story there?"
"It was the last of an accidental litter up for grabs. I was at the gas station in Huxley, and there was a twelve-year-old outside with one left," He's shrugging again, "And since supposedly the mark on his eye looks like a flower, she said it was fate."
"That's adorable."
"The mark looks nothing like a flower," Tobias mutters. He doesn't seem too keen on the idea of a cat taking up residence in their shared apartment, "I just ended up suckered into buying a cat."
"How do you know?"
"I have eyes? Doesn't look like a flower. You'll see."
"And now you have a kitten," I shove a pan in his direction, "An animal to soften even the hardest of hearts. Even fish-haters. You're communicating so well today; it's like its kitty powers have already broadened your capacity for speech."
Tobias stares at me again.
"Maybe not. What are you going to name it? Is it a boy or a girl?"
"I'm not naming her anything." He's already got the mixer going, and I vaguely realize I haven't started the oven.
"Gender-neutral name ideas. Got it."
Tobias glares.
"So much verbalization coming from your eyes today, come on — I thought you were on a sarcasm spree? So was that text a cry for help?"
"Well, I heard you're the town cat whisperer." He swipes a handful of flour down near me, and I elbow him, "I'm just trying to keep up with my sarcasm spree."
"Cat shaving one time does not equal cat whispering. The joke is old. It's tired, Tobias."
He quirks a brow, and before he can say something snarky, I cut in,
"Why does she want us to make six batches of cookies and clean the fridge? Seems like a weird request."
The Amadeus man doesn't look interested.
"And. That's crazy that she begged you to come help," I continue, all too adept at filling in for his silence, "and even did you decide on Huxley?" Tobias shrugs, "That's so much closer than Doveport. Nic said, you got an apartment and a job out there — I was like, panicking. He's such a liar."
"...Panicking?" Tobias smiles softly but covers it by unlatching the mixing bowl from its cage. "I did get a job and a place — but in Huxley. The rent is cheap. And... It's more of a house than an apartment."
"A house?!"
"Like I said. It's cheap. I've been," he frowns, "saving for a while." I nod. I don't want to traipse on his happiness with the memories of his desire to move with his mother. For her to leave Richard and follow her son instead. "... Anyway. Where's Ms. Martin?"
"Uh, apparently she's got all these interviews the week that Fabio is supposedly ailing from food-borne illness in some hospital."
"Raul." Tobias corrects, eyebrows furrowed, "Nic told me about that. I feel you added onto this story, though."
"Oh right, Raul."
"What's her deal? With that intersection and her remodel, this shop isn't going to make it through the year," My heart sinks at the prospect. Tobias scrapes butter into the bowl, holding a hand open for my cup of toffee bits, "She's probably taking the week off to find other opportunities before this one flops."
"The Sweet Spot won't close down."
"She can't afford her four employees," The dark-eyed man snorts. "She hates your brother and me but got my new number from him — just so that I could come help out? I'd say it's likely."
"Likely as in...? Completely closing down?" Some of my energy leaves as I say it, and Tobias lifts his eyes to meet mine, something clicking.
"Small shops like these don't stay open forever; I doubt this one will make it through spring." Shelby's voice startles me, and I turn to see her grabbing the mop bucket. Tobias bristles, quieting.
"You think so?"
"Yeah. I heard Randy might buy this place out and turn it into an ice cream shop." She chuckles.
"Oh," I don't know why I'm anxious, "Did you say an ice cream shop?" I ask, and Shelby nods, twisting her hair up into a bun,
"Yeah, I guess it's in high demand since that one next to the turn-off packed up for Adeline. It sucks; I liked the tips from here. I'm glad I still have my receptionist job at Ms. Holbrook's place."
I nod, but I'm thinking about the other jobs I don't have.
"I wonder who Randy will put in charge if he opens one." Shelby sighs. "Can you imagine this place as an ice cream store?"
"When was she planning on telling you guys?" Tobias cuts in; he doesn't seem distressed at all, even though he has actual bills to pay. He appears more irritated at Ms. Martin's lack of communication — which I am very much feeling. He doesn't meet Shelby's eyes, either.
"... Probably that little 'employee meeting' thing she has written on the chalkboard up front for the 16th. I'm sure she knows we saw it coming though, Clark was talking about it last week — like right in ear shot of her," Shelby's chuckling, and I have an apron string in both hands, twisting them around my fingers, "they should really turn this place into something for young adults though — like, really, there's nothing to do in Jameson."
I'm quiet, so she smiles and pulls the mop bucket along with her,
"Well. Have fun baking."
"Have fun making coffee."
"... I'm going to start in the front, but I'll come back to help you both with the fridge," She twists the bucket in front of her and smiles, "Too da loo."
Tobias nods, and I stand there like an idiot, glancing around the obviously emptying shop-back.
"Ms. Martin is totally prepping to shut this place down." I turn back to Tobias, who is folding chocolate chips into the dough, "Oh my God. Ms. Martin is totally going down with the ship without telling us that the ship is going down — we are unwittingly aboard a sinking ship,"
Tobias tugs my apron string from the front, and levels me with a look,
"You'll know when it's time to jump," He reaches for the scale, his arm purposely brushing mine. He stays close to me. It feels like an attempt at comforting me, "Jameson loves rumors, you know that. You'll hear."
I nod,
"Right, right — Hey! You got cookie dough on my apron."
"I could do worse."
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