Dulce

Here’s how his hour went:

First, he folded that two of hearts and washed his bets ‘till the next deal. But it wasn’t ‘cause of the shit hand he’d been holdin’. It was because it’s Rodeo’s policy not to leave a table when he’s got money in the pot, and he knew he was gonna have to leave this table. Because that gout-fat Bushmills sausage don’t have any such policy, and Rodeo knew eventually the fella’s Irish whiskey would run through him and force him on a piss break.

He wasn’t wrong. Just before the dealer turned the river, the man got up and made a beeline for the bathroom– and Rodeo got up too, crossing the casino floor with his typical purposeful swagger.

Here’s the thing. He woulda let it all slide, odious as the motherfucker’s unwanted intrusion was, if it wasn’t for the shadow it had put on his lil cupbearer’s face. He’d watched the look of shame and embarrassment darken her big brown eyes and he had known absolutely, at that very moment, that the man who put that look there would have to pay for it.

So Rodeo followed the man into the bathroom and taught him a lesson he really oughta have already learned by his age. He didn’t go overboard or nothin’. The ol’ drunk’s got a weak enough constitution that Rodeo was aware he wouldn’t be able to take much of a beating. But he still got his nose cracked against the tile behind the urinal while he was unzipping for his piss, and with blood gushing from his nostrils he cowered and nodded as Rodeo told him, “you better run on outta here, and if you ever come back, best hope I don’t catch you. You ever see my face again, partner, it’s gonna be the last thing you see.”

Then, with that settled and done with, Rodeo sauntered on back to his table and threw in his blind for another round.

With only a two pair in hand by the last bet, Rodeo still managed to get the rest of the table to fold. By the time his Queen of Cups arrives, he’s up $840– as much as he promised her he’d be. It’s a sure thing their dinner won’t cost near to that much, not even if they ordered one of everything off the menu at Blue Hill, but it’s the flex that counts.

He’s right where she left him, like he never moved at all. Like he didn’t take a detour from raking the table to bust a man’s face while she was away. There ain’t a hint of that darkness when he twists in his seat to look to her, eyes just sunny as an unclouded day as they take her in.

She changed her clothes, she did her hair, and she’s got such a sweet and hopeful look about her… a stab of guilt pierces his gut, but it don’t carry up to his face. He’s real used to ignoring that voice inside, these days it’s locked in a redwood coffin and buried six feet down in his chest and any utterance it tries to make is swallowed up and lost to the grave. If it’s tellin’ him now that what he’s doing is wrong, well, it’s just too bad he can’t hear none of it.

“’Course I do, darlin’,” Rodeo smiles at her. He stands from his seat, a big hand coming up to touch to her elbow as he rises up beside her. His palms are rough and callused, his knuckles are split and bruised. But if he’s worried about what that might tell her, he doesn’t show it– instead he nods at the dealer and drops his hand from Acacia’s arm to sweep his chip jackpot into the bucket the dealer offers him for cash-out. Once he’s gathered his winnings he reaches for her again, tucking his arm behind her back, as greedy and bold as he pleases. He shakes the bucket of chips and nods his head towards the cashier’s cage. “Just gotta cash out. Hope you’re hungry, darlin’, ‘cause knowin’ I’d be earnin’ my chips for you made me a real industrious bounder, I’ll tell ya what. How about we buy out the whole dessert case at Blue Hill?”

He’s not concerned that she might know the cashier he hands his chips to when they reach the cage. He keeps his arm around her, and while the cashier counts out his winnings he looks down at her and lifts his brows, adding another question. “And how you feel about takin’ the ride over on my bike with me?”

.

True to form, Acacia is far too busy being pleased that Rodeo still wants to get a bite to eat to notice the old man is gone. Even if she did notice his absence, she certainly wouldn’t attribute it to Rodeo. The soft touch to her elbow is like a little spell, automatically shrinking her awareness down to him. His hand is warm and welcome against her skin. Acacia lets out a soft laugh as he shakes the chips, and god he sounds so sweet the waitress could almost believe him. He wraps an arm around her back, telling her that she’s probably not the first waitress he’s swept off the casino floor. Touch starved as she is, Acacia can’t imagine being distressed by the thought.

Why shouldn’t she let herself be swept away?

A stab of sadness hits her stomach but her smile stays bright. He’s been so sweet about everything, she can’t let it show. “The whole thing?” Acacia asks instead, eyes dancing at the thought. “That’s an awful lot of sweet.” While he finishes his exchange, she doesn’t say much more, not wanting to interrupt the ritual of exchanging chips for money. Instead, she leans into him just a little. She was a shy creature, but Rodeo’s ease was infectious. When Acacia looks up at him, her warm gaze is open and trusting. "I’ve never done that before,” and the admission can hardly be surprising. “It sounds exciting,” she answered, another beaming smile lighting up her face. “I’d really like that.” There was no getting around the fact that she’d like the excuse to wrap her arms around him, too. He’s been kind enough that like any trusting stray, she’d happily follow him anywhere.

He’s doing a real rotten thing right about now, and he knows it too.

That glittering, beaming, sweet ‘n hopeful look on her face says it all. She’s a force of pure good, her innocence and rectitude untarnished by this seedy world she’s found herself in. She’s out here on this floor like some golden seraph, floating above all this wicked bullshit as she doles out little glasses of her warm glow like the one he got in his hand now. But what happens to her when he’s drunk her all dry? What happens when his darkness casts its shadow on her light?

She don’t know what she’s agreeing to. She don’t know it’s the devil that just asked her to dinner. But he wouldn’t be the devil if he let that stop him, now, would he?

An hour is hardly a long wait to him. It ain’t like he’d be packin’ it in any time soon. Sleep is an elusive beast when guilt is beating the war drums in your skull all the livelong day. Likely he’d be right here ‘till sunup anyhow, gamblin’ his ghost away. He’s about to tell her so, but the fella to his left swivels in his seat to toss his two cents in.

“Hell, gorgeous, if he won’t wait for you, I sure will,” the man chortles.

Rodeo doesn’t turn to the dumb fuck who spoke up, not fully anyway. Maybe it’s the stillness in the way that he keeps his boots planted on the patterned carpet that warns the other man that he’s butted in on the wrong dog’s dinner. Rodeo can see the oh shit realization pass behind the man’s eyes when he tips his head back to look at him. It’s not like he’s worried she’ll take the fella up on his offer– gout-blotched and more than middle aged, so thick with uric acid he looks about ready to pop like a Bushmills balloon, it ain’t like the man cuts a tempting alternative– but that don’t mean he plans to let it slide.

“You lookin’ to get carried outta here by the handles, partner?” Rodeo asks him, his tone conversational but his eyes cold with deadly promise.

“Ah, I was just playin’ with you two lovebirds,” the man laughs, waving a swollen hand like a white flag. The corner of Rodeo’s jaw flexes, but he lets that warning simmer for now. He turns his chin back to Acacia, rolling his eyes like can you believe that guy, acting for all the world like he couldn’t straight up kill a motherfucker on the casino floor. No way. He’s a standup guy with a real solid grip on his temper.

“An hour’s nothin’, sweetheart,” he says with an easy smile. “Give me just enough time to take another round, buy us some dessert too. You swing on back when you’re off, alright? I’ll be right here.”

...

As soon as the other man speaks, Acacia looks away. Embarrassment makes her smile fade and she can’t help but wonder how desperate she must seem to everyone around them. It was almost as though she’d forgotten about the people around them. Her expression shifts to something more apologetic as her eyes flick to meet his briefly. When Rodeo speaks, her head cants to the side as she tries to understand what he’s saying. Wariness settles in her warm brown eyes - after her ex, it’s understandable. There’s some silent communication going on between them, and she doesn’t realize that she was holding her breath until the strangers.

The smile she flashes up at Rodeo is grateful, and any wariness dissolves when his smile returns.  Far too trusting for her own good, as long as Rodeo seemed to be okay with how things resolved Acacia was happy to accept it. She nods eagerly, clearly pleased by his decision. “Thank you. I’ll try not to keep you waiting long,” she promises before scurrying away to finish up. 

Once her shift was up, she rushed to the employee-only area and changed into something more appropriate for getting dinner. Glad she had the presence of mind to keep a spare outfit in her locker, Acacia isn’t able to help lingering in front of a mirror to touch up her make-up and hair. It might be an impromptu date, but the butterflies in her stomach are impossible to deny. When she steps back on to the floor, that same hope is shining in her eyes as when she asked if he’d mind waiting for her. True to his word, she finds him just where he says he’d be.

Much like before, she hovers at his elbow with a shy smile. “Did you still want to grab a bite to eat?” Acacia asks, hope radiating from her petite form. She wouldn’t be able to fault him for changing his mind, but god does she hope he still wants to. It’s juvenile and stupid, she knows, but she can’t help it.

It’s a sweet thing, how her smile shines on her face, pinches up the apples of her cheeks, beams like a tangerine sun just for him. Rodeo’s used to getting a reaction out of people, that’s true enough. For better or worse, he ain’t the kind of man folks just have an indifferent response to. But on the spectrum of sentiments he inspires, this kind of sweetness is exceedingly rare. Even the folks who like him– hell, even the ones who love him still have a way of lookin’ at him like lovin’ him exhausts them for all the trouble he causes. There’s always this dark-side-of-the-moon slice in their eyes, this looming awareness of the faults in his nature.

But when Acacia smiles for him, her eyes ain’t sayin’, “I know what you are, devil.” She beams her benevolent light on him like he’s full worthy of it, and for a moment he actually believes he is. It’s such a quick and unexpected lift to his spirits that his belly gives a little hitch like hitting a bump on his bike, the feeling somewhere between thrilling and dangerous.

‘Cause if he gets used to that smile, it’s sure gonna suck when she realizes what a rotten thing he is. Who’s gonna bring him his cups then? He’ll just die out in this desert, parched and painfully sober.

Theoretically speaking, if he’s afraid she’ll get to the bottom of his bullshit, it’d probably behoove him to continue to keep their interactions brief and sweet as this one. But the thing about Rodeo is, and will always be, that he always chases the thrill– and the sweet feeling he’s getting from that blameless glow of hers is a real thrill to him right about now.

“Yeah, actually,” Rodeo’s brows lift as he rubs his thumb against the edge of that two of hearts that’s ruining his hand. “Was wonderin’ if you might come back around once you finish your shift. Let me spend some o’ this pot I’m about to win on a couple’a late-night burgers for us. Reckon all this runnin’ cups must leave ya hungry, don’t it? Get dinner with me.”

..

Acacia keeps beaming at him, her head tilting to the side as he starts. She expects him to ask for another drink, maybe even a soda. Her eyes widen in surprise at his request. Offers like it aren’t uncommon, but his seems more genuine than others that have been made. It’s also the first that makes her blush, that pink in her cheeks going a shade brighter. “You sure you don’t mind the wait? I’ll probably be another hour yet,” Acacia informs him shyly, but there’s an undeniable hope in her eyes. 

She wants him to say yes, wants to feel like she’s worth waiting for, even if its only an hour. Acacia would be the first to admit to a good many faults, and she knows that chief among them is just how desperately she chases any sort of kindness. She fully expects a regretful light to fill his eyes, and perhaps he’d spare her and say he has to be up early in the morning rather than admit that he wasn’t serious in his offer. 

Still, she wouldn’t be able to help but daydream about how nice it would be to sit across from Rodeo and just..talk. Even just listen to him talk in that honeyed drawl of his somewhere that isn’t as loud as the casino.

“I dunno...I really like this bar,” Acacia said as she lifted her vodka soda to her lips. Her comment was prompted by a loud drunk being tossed out. They decided insulting the place would fix the problem and they were wrong. Instead, she swiveled almost owl-like from her perch on the barstool. She continued speaking to her friend, a puppy-ish light to her dark brown eyes, “It’s charming, don’t you think? And not at all loud and bright like the casino. Too much light can be a bad thing.” Of course, it was just as likely that Acacia had formed an undue attachment to the place. 

She turned to look at Morrigan, assessing the other for a moment. “I don’t think they really meant it. It’s not the bar’s fault that they can’t handle their liquor.”

Well, if ain’t his favorite whiskey-bearin’ angel, come to lay a balm on his losin’ heart.

He needs the drink right about now. His cards are teasing him– he’s just one black eight away from his favorite hand: black aces and black eights, the Dead Man’s Hand. Instead he’s got this shitgarbage two of hearts in hand, and it’s just a wicked reminder of the losin’ streak he’s been on ever since he came to this sand-scratch town.

But he won’t let all that on to a pretty little lady with a glass of his medicine on her tray, no how. When a woman asks, he’s always winning.

He picks up the drink she puts down and takes a big parched gulp before he says anything. His blue eyes are sparking playful, hiding perfectly the sour feelings he holds inside. He swivels his chair to face Acacia better, chin tipped up towards her as he sits back and rolls the remaining whiskey in his glass.

“You oughta know me enough by now, darlin’, to know I’m always up and I ain’t no kind of sir,” Rodeo smirks at her. He arches a brow as he shifts so he can draw his wallet out of his back pocket. He thumbs out a couple twenties, hardly paying attention to how much cash he hands over to her– more than enough for his drink, more than generous as a tip. Then he goes on like he doesn’t want her to say nothin’ about it. “How’s it going for you, out here like Aquarius, bearin’ cups for these ungrateful sonsabitches? Hope everyone’s givin’ you the appreciation you deserve tonight.”

..

Acacia laughs as he speaks, delight sparkling in her brown eyes. Rodeo had a way of doing this thing..he put her at ease and made her feel like the prettiest girl in the room just by the way he looked at her. “Some habits are hard to break,” she admit, a sheepish expression creeping across her features.  

A light blush colors her cheeks, and even if it would be embarrassing to admit she didn’t know Aquarius was a person, it’s easy to appreciate that he seemed to think she’d know who that was. Something told her that if she admitted her ignorance, he wouldn’t hold it against her, either.  Acacia almost wants to ask. just so she can keep him talking. She murmurs her thanks as he pays, wondering just how foolish she has to be to let herself be so thoroughly charmed so easily. 

“Everyone’s been very sweet so far tonight,” Acacia assures him. Even her usual grumps didn’t seem so displeased. “The floor is always pretty exciting, though. And people are always nice when I have drinks on my tray,” she adds. Anyone willing to spare a kind word for her always gets a special place in her heart, and Rodeo is no exception (and maybe that drawl of his gets him a little higher on the list, but she’d never tell).  Before she can help herself, the waitress finds herself asking, “Is there anything else I can get you before I do another round on the floor?” 

–

Rowan shook the woman’s hand firmly, but easily–something she had thought far too much about in the past, particularly as she was growing her business and attempting to sell her book.  “Oh hush, having you there is just a constant reminder that I’m not in the wrong place.”  Rowan laughed, her head falling to the side just slightly.  As most creatives do, she spent a good majority of her day convincing herself her art was worth public consumption and that she deserved success.  “I bet you could give me tips at this point–which I would actually appreciate, I experimented with orange and mint yesterday.” She scrunched her nose as if to signify a not so wise choice.  

.

Acacia laughed gently, knowing full well the pain of poor flavor choices. “Having tried apple butter in coffee, I feel your pain. Don’t you think orange and mint can play nicely, but they need a third? Maybe some honey? It would soften the orange and complement the mint. Or you could always do lemon and mint, and then that could be more of a base depending on your mood. Dark chocolate could bring a little richness, lavender would soften it. And then orange could go with something more tropical..papaya, or guava. And if you want to add something surprising, you could use rose or cardamom.” Acacia shrugged, then immediately turned pink as she realized that Rowan it was far more likely that Rowan wasn’t being serious. 

“Sorry. You probably didn’t actually mean that,” she apologized, realizing she wasn’t a chef anymore. Even if she was, the other woman wouldn’t know it. As far as Rowan was concerned, Acacia wasn’t even remotely qualified to suggest anything when it comes to flavors. 

Acacia smiled and paused to chat with each of the patrons as she served drinks around the casino. It was a relief to be out on the floor and not actually need to deal with food. Professional kitchens still put the former pastry chef on edge, even though she knew that there probably wasn’t anywhere safer than the casino, and even if she did venture back to the kitchens, there wasn’t any actual danger beyond what one would expect to find in a kitchen. All that, and still, she was grateful for the plentiful staff (those that worked security, especially). With her tray balanced carefully, the waitress traced her path through the casino carefully to ensure that she’d served each of her charges in as close to the order she’d taken their drinks. She was really beginning to get to know the regular clientele on a more personal basis. 

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴. 》

                        Even though Lev was almost certain of the nature of the woman’s injuries as it was, the pure fear in her trembling voice that accompanied her confession erased any room for an alternative. He felt his bearded jaw clench and heard the threat in his voice when he said “No, he won’t.” A moment of pause occured, where the Bone Breaker let out a frustrated sign before attempting to soften his tone. That woman was terrified already, his angry promises couldn’t possibly be of any help. Smart hues scanned the block quickly, expectedly, and then added “Nobody’s here except for us. Nobody can hear ya.” Would that little piece of information be able to give her some hope? Was there really anything he could say that would be of help? 

The shift of focus onto him came only as a slight surprise. The shock of the encounter made him forget about the marks on his face. Once again, he didn’t look like the most reliable stranger, did he? “Oh yeah, it’s nothin’. I’m a fighter.. I work at the Rogues Club. It’s where these are from.” A finger circled around his face, pointing at the slight damage done. Nothing he hadn’t grown used to over the years. Certainly nothing in comparison to the circumstances that gave her her marks. What if those on her face weren’t the only ones? What if there was an internal bleeding somewhere? “Listen, tellin’ me that name can wait…for now. But you need to get checked up, yeah? I can take you to the hospital if you want. I got a couple friends that’ll get you better without you havin’ to wait all night in line.” Friends was a loose term. The whole Valencia Medical Center was built after his grandma took over the leadership of the organization. Lev knew half the staff in there.

flashback

The ferocity in his voice startled her. Why was a stranger she’d just met so fierce in his conviction? Would this man really volunteer to put himself in danger over her? It made no sense, even if there could be little doubt that he would easily contend with Gio. Acacia watched, tense as he looked around. She mirrored him, glancing either way. He was right in that it seemed they were alone, but could they really be sure? There were so many shadows..could they really know that there wasn’t anyone in them?

Acacia nodded as he explained what had happened to his face. A fighter..no wonder he was fierce. A spark of envy lit itself, unbidden. Someone like him would never be blindsided like she had been. Even if he was, he would have been able to defend himself, she was sure. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he had a point. She’d only be able to see a doctor for so long..it would be smart to be seen sooner rather than later, as much as Acacia didn’t want to see anyone. “Do..would they need to know?” It was a stupid question, but there was no hiding the trace of hope in her eyes as she looked up at the man. “I don’t..I don’t want to get anyone in trouble just because I can’t..” The petite woman looked down for a moment, too ashamed of her own fear. “Would your friends be mad at you? For bringing me?” Surely she’d been enough of an inconvenience to the man as it was..yet she couldn’t keep herself from continuing, “I’d appreciate it. I’m sorry to put you out like this but..I don’t..I don’t really want to be alone.” The confession was a difficult one - pathetic to her own words.

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 》

                                   Lev knew the streets of Red Ridge like every cut on his ever-bruised knuckles. He knew that, by the time he stepped out of Rogues Club at 3:15am, the South was far asleep while the North was just then getting awake. Despite his deep ties to Valencia, his own apartment was located closer to the South ― away from all the buzzing and noise that’d make his long nights truly restless. Walking back to his place was a habit acquired only recently, though ( he had enough people scratching his bike after being dumb enough to bet against him ). Day after day, he came and left alone; away from people who could see the look on his face as he exited the pit. 

He didn’t expect to see anyone else on the streets this late, let alone feel someone bump into him. The kind of lifestyle he’d grown up into had to be blamed for his tendencies bouncing from suspicion to violence, the petite person’s instant withdrawl to the wall behind them being the thing that saved them from an instictive reaction to tuggle them to the ground as if they were some attacker trying to ambush him. Fiery azure hues pierced on the figure, his whole body tense, for the one moment before a feminine voice spoke. One more second passed before the fighter realized there was no danger there. His muscles relaxed as an apologetic expression formed on his facial features. “It’s okay, it happens.” The right corner of his bottom lip, slightly puffed and pained from a punch that landed there, involunterily curved into a little smirk as he listen to her concern of hurting him. She can’t be more than 5′2. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Still in one piece.”

Any humor that’d laced his tone a minute ago, vanished as soon as he caught sight of something all too familiar; something the stranger was trying to cover with the help of shadows and her own hair. “Hey, is that―” Had it not been for the street lamp nearby that lit her face, offering a contrast that allowed him to notice what she obviously wished to hide, he could’ve missed it. “You’re hurt.” His statement was every bit obvious and intrucive at once, but Lev pushed anyway. He’d never seen this woman before, certainly not in the Rogues Club as one of the fighters or those in debt. Besides, her stance ― sheltering her body as if she could make it smaller by hugging her arms around it ― made it clear to him that someone else had done this to her. “Miss, are you okay? Who did this to ya?“

..

Flashback

Acacia nodded, relieved that she hadn’t caused him any undue harm. For a moment, her lips tipped up at the humor in her voice. From their brief collision, she knew he was solid, and that quick glance was enough for her to register his size. The woman could probably run into him at full speed, and she’d still bounce off of him. His observation made her freeze. Was it that obvious? Pressing a little more into the wall as if she could make herself disappear, acacia shook her head no at his questions. 

She managed to look up to meet his eyes, not hiding the bruises on her face and around her neck. “Please..” she begged softly. “Please don’t ask that..don’t make me tell. He’ll kill me if I tell,” Acacia pleaded softly, Gio’s warning ringing in her ears. She almost sounded childlike, and once again that night, her wide doe eyes started to tear up. Her arms tightened around herself a little more, as if she could physically hold herself together. Her warm, brown eyes caught on his mouth. She noted the slight puffiness there, and knew first hand what it felt like. 

“You’re hurt, too,” she pointed out, her voice still soft.  Impatiently, she swiped at her cheek, as if the harsher she was with herself, the faster she’d be able to hide away any hint of tears. The fear in her expression shifted into concern for him. “Are you okay?”

It was so much easier to focus on this stranger, to push away all of the pain and aches she felt in favor of someone else. Everything was so fresh, so overwhelming..focusing on this man (even if only for a few moments) was a welcome reprieve from the thoughts swirling around her mind.

–

A pulse passed before words came from Rowan, her brows lifted in surprise.  “I am.” It wasn’t rare for someone to know who she was before she knew them but it wasn’t typically by name, ‘Damian’s sister’ was commonplace.  In that pulse, it all came back to her, having thought to herself many times over the past months that she should get the girl a reservation name plate for her corner of the shop.  The thought brought a humorous grin to the brunette’s face.  “I appreciate you coming around, I can’t believe I haven’t asked your name yet.” She laughed.  “I remember thinking I should pay you for the amount of time you give us, but something’s always gotten in the way.”  She shrugged, her purse sliding to her elbow as she did.  “Nice to finally meet you…” She let the sentence fall off as if to ask the other their name, outstretching her hand to shake hers.  

..

The surprise in Rowan’s face caught Acacia off-guard. Surely the other woman was fairly well-known in the town. There couldn’t be a single person in Red Ridge who hadn’t given in to the temptation Impulse offered. Her cheeks brightened at Rowan’s recognition - was she really there that often? Of course, she knew the answer was yes. It was amazing that the staff didn’t think she was a nuisance. "Acacia,” the woman answered, taking the offered hand. “I should be thanking you for not kicking me out,” she countered easily. It was true, after all. Impulse had been a port in a storm for her, over the last few months, especially. “It’s nice to meet you too! And please know, I really do appreciate your letting me hang around Impulse.” 

     now and then, she’d find ways to escape. coddle herself with the soft spoken luxury of a day full of errands — busy her time with menial, mindless things her life could’ve easily gone on without, but somehow helped ground her to her existence. gave her a purpose, in a sense: something to do that didn’t end and begin with staring out a window, losing a meaning she never had in the first place. today’s errands brought her walking leisurely around town — picking up books she’d ordered from subtext, fresh flowers before some sort of high-stakes dinner they’d be hosting at night, focusing her efforts, her attention, on every little detail that might paint her life a shade of functional. she’d seldom allow herself pleasures for the sake of it: cue the cup of caramel latte in her hands, a little moment to herself, an excuse to let her mind fade to the background — let her tastebuds rule, for just a second. a short-lived one, at that: her mind elsewhere, barely focused on her steps, the near collision throwing her off balance — her latte careening out of its cup, spilling over, hitting her forearm on the way down. “oh — crap”, a half curse leaving her as she took a rushed step backward, barely avoiding the spill. thrown off the gentle rhythm of her day, ada took a second to readjust: gaze rising to meet the stranger’s, seeing the apologetic look on her face and knowing, right away, her mind must have been as lost as her own. “it’s okay”, she rushed to smile, fill in the gap of her hesitation. raising the now half empty cup just slightly, ada chuckled. “i wasn’t that much into it anyway.”

...

“god, i’m so sorry,” acacia repeated, a refrain that common as it was falling from her lips, never seemed to lose that same bitter taste. “please, can I get you another coffee? or a cookie, or something?” as always, every sin must be atoned for, even if it never quite felt like enough. a familiar panic settled in the pit of her stomach as her eyes were drawn to the woman’s sleeves. “oh!” she exclaimed softly. “your clothes..i’m so, so sorry. i can pay to get them cleaned, or replaced, what ever you want!” she offered quickly, hoping to god it wasn’t a lie. the lovely smile on the woman’s lips helped calm her a little, but it made her feel worse (and acacia didn’t want to think on why that was). “ummm....” she trailed off softly as she she rummaged in her bag, digging around for some not-especially crumpled napkins. a little relief coursed through her as she pulled the folded papers out of her purse. “here, would these help at all?” acacia asked, biting her lip as she looked to the other woman, concern bright in her eyes. “I could hold something, if it would help?” acacia added, noting that the woman was carrying things. the former pastry chef was hesitant to dab at the coffee that had stained the woman’s arm for fear of making it worse. “i hope it didn’t burn you!”

I mean if Ivan were being completely honest, he definitely wasn’t expecting that much of a history. It was hard, sure, keeping it strictly business at work, regardless of the work itself but dating and relationship rules were set in place for a reason. He remembered the few times he’d been tempted; a few staff parties at the restaurant, a good looking server when he broke up with his ex-fiance, even just to numb the ache it came with – an ache that still festered in him, begging for his attention, only to receive booze and weed when he could no longer take the call.

“So, you mean he was basically screwing her while he was with you?” Ivan looked at her as they walked, seeing the sadness painted across her features – the same sadness he felt, the one he liked to mask. “I can relate, unfortunately. —- I was dating someone sorta on and off for a few years, I caught her with some asshole at a bar. It wasn’t the first time she cheated on me, so, old news, but basically I had enough and called off our engagement. I mean, I guess that’s more than just dating but, anyway – fuck that guy and that restaurant. Which one is it?” Arriving at the entrance of Steinbord, he pulled open one of the glass doors with his free hand, waiting for her to make her way inside.

..

Acacia sighed. “I mean..I can see it now,” she admitted, though she wasn’t defensive.  “I was just so..dazzled by what I thought was my dream. I’m sorry you had to go through that. It must have been so hard. Oh, thank you.” She flashed a small smile as she walked through the door of the restaurant, only to step to the side so that he could continue leading her. absently, she pulled her sunglasses and used them as a headband on top of her head. She couldn’t help looking around, taking in the setting. She knew of Steinbord, naturally, but she’d never been inside it before.  

“It was the Lookout,” Acacia answered hesitantly. “I kind of promised not to tell anyone the details, though. My ex would be..really mad at me if he found out I told you,” she explained, her voice quiet. Brown doe eyes pleaded for his understanding. "I’m sorry you had to go through that. It’s..that kind of heartbreak is rough, and I’m not even entirely sure I can understand all that much.” It wasn’t appropriate, but Acacia wanted to ask if the hurt ever lessened. Deciding a change of subject probably wouldn’t hurt, Acacia reached to tug one dark lock of her hair lightly. “I can’t believe I never asked you..what is your menu going to be today?” 

–

Ivan definitely hadn’t been expecting a used to. And then when he heard the reasoning behind it – shit. Prettier? What the fuck was that about? He could give a rat’s ass about what his employees looked like, as long as they did the job and did it well. He noticed the shift in conversation, in energy, immediately. He could never get why people felt the need to be so…vapid, with their topics of conversation. Maybe it was an American thing. Fake smiles and pretend when really there was a storm brewing beneath it all. Back home, you poured yourself some hard liquor, sat around a fire and contemplated the meaning of life with a total stranger upon first meeting. Scandinavians were weird though.

“I never went to culinary school, actually,” he looked down at her as they walked through a small crowd of people gathering outside of a bookstore. “I was raised on a farm, basically, fell in love with how food could literally come out of the dirt, then a mentor of mine decided to hire me at his bakery, actually, so I have some experience with patisserie.” He took a turn, walking just an inch ahead of her, leading the way. “Tell me more about this piece of shit ex-boss of yours though – he fired you cause he thought you weren’t pretty enough?”

..

Acacia nodded as he spoke, feeling foolish for telling him to visit the farms now. He’d probably been able to cultivate deeper relationships on that alone. She followed, keeping the distance he set so that he could lead her to his restaurant. It was easier to be calm when talking about it now, thankfully. “Yeah..it’s-it was complicated..” Acacia trailed off, one hand rubbing the back of her neck nervously. The petite woman looked around, trying to guess if they were far enough away from the little crowd that she could feel comfortable continuing. She had protection now..but that didn’t mean she ought to tempt fate.

Satisfied that no one would overhear, she continued, “We met not long after I graduated. He was able to get a restaurant going, and asked me to come on as the pastry chef. It was great at first..we were all younger, passionate. You know how things can go..especially in a restaurant. All those hours working with the same people. We fell together so easily, and we worked together so easily, too.” There was no keeping the sadness out of her voice, not where he was involved. “We were getting ready for the one year anniversary, and I went in for my shift like normal and the kitchen was empty except for him. He broke up with me, because he found someone prettier. Better for the image of the restaurant, and they already had a dessert menu, and she’d be more comfortable with me gone. Apparently one of the waitresses had always wanted to be a pastry chef.” Acacia didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in her voice. To add insult to injury, a pretty face meant more than all the work she’d put into that stupid restaurant. “I was stupid and optimistic,” she added a moment later. And what did she have to show for it?

“Before you say anything, I brought cupcakes and not just any cupcakes,” Acacia started. Cooking finally felt..good again, and she had to take advantage of that. “I have paris tea cupcakes with honey and lavender frosting, almond cupcakes with rose frosting, and a rum cake with vanilla glaze,” the woman explained over the box in her hands. “I’m not saying you have to try any of them, but I brought extra frosting and my undying affection if that does anything to entice you to try them and maybe take some off my hands because I have cupcakes all over my countertops now. Please?” As if to further convince the other, Acacia lifted the lid so they could see what she’d brought to offer them.

–

“I mean, we could have another one or two hands. I let go of a prepper and a line cook two days ago,” he paused suddenly, letting an airy laugh go, “I, uh, tend to be a little strict,” – rude was more like it; impatient, controlling, all the rest of it. He had a penchant for firing people, but he could hardly be blamed – if you couldn’t keep up cause you blatantly lied on your CV about having experience then getting fired was to be expected. Ivan managed a 3-Michelin star restaurant…slacking wasn’t an option.

“I usually go to the farms, yeah, but I just didn’t have any time today. I wanted to grab these in ten minutes top since my restaurant is just down the street there – he nodded toward the road behind where she stood - then get cooking right away since our menu’s just changed seasonally. New recipes, you know how it goes.” Ivan noticed the nostalgia on her face – part of him curious, another part of him really just wanting to go back to the restaurant to get started – the former bit having more weight than the latter. “Wanna walk with me to Steinbord?” He asked suddenly, may as well kill two birds with one stone. “I’m assuming you work in a kitchen?”

Acacia laughed a little with him. He seemed kind..the people he let go were probably for much different, much more legitimate reasons than she had been. “It’s hard when you have people expecting an oven and not a pressure cooker,” she reasoned with a shrug of her slender shoulders. Nodding along with him as he spoke - she did, and it was stressful and exciting in equal measure. “Sure,” she agreed, moving to fall in-step with him. It wasn’t like she got the chance all that often to talk about cooking in a way that didn’t make her heart ache.

Until it did. “Used to,” she explained quietly. “The place around the corner, just celebrated their anniversary..” Acacia trailed off, only to take a quick look around and make sure there wasn’t anyone who could overhear. “I did their desserts, until the head chef decided he wanted someone prettier,” she explained, hoping for all the world the man beside her wouldn’t think her petty and bitter for being fired. Or stupid for dating her boss. “But the first half of the program i did in culinary school was geared towards general cuisine. I ended with patisserie because that’s what I loved.” She shrugged again, not entirely certain how best to make things lighter again. “It’s crazy..but sometimes I miss being in school,” she tried, figuring he might have a similar experience. At the very least, it might get a laugh out of him, depending on how he’d learned.

open starter   @redridgestart​

location:  violet ,  10:33 pm

he lessens the pangs of a headache     with beer ,     the bottle held against the corner of his forehead     like an ice pack ,     and remaining there for what has seemed like a lightyear .      crisp ,  cool precipitation     leaves its droplets behind ,    free falling to lashes ,     among eyes that more so blink and flicker     against its own natural will     than it does at the sprinkle of water .     they stare below ,     vacantly ,     where skin grows raw ,     red     against the numbing chill     –     but it doesn’t numb .     relief barely lets up     –     perhaps this wasn’t the best place to go in order to heal ,     where rampant smells ,     roaring music ,     running mouths tend to be ,     one is more likely to create a headache than treat one .     yet ,  somehow ,     remorse doesn’t yet wash over his shoulders .     mind still promotes     peace and quiet     as this part of the sphere ,     functioning like a jungle    or a gymnasium ,     enwraps him ,     and he sits there ,     letting it hold him .

but of course ,     a pulse of a throbbing nuisance     doesn’t derive without a root of a spawn .      and among a one - ended conversation ,     food for thought ,     but without the receiving thought ,     he thinks ,     people do still need to shut the fuck up .      thus ,     he detaches beer bottle and turns ,     looking like he just got punched  …     ( or is going to ) .     “ listen – ”     keeping voice against steel ,     words confided lowly     only between them .     “ one more time :     it’s your personal business     —-     i don’t wanna know about it . ”

“thank you!” acacia chirped as the bartender set down a clean (she assumed ) bar towel wrapped around a handful of ice and a glass of water. she pushed both towards the man, electing to ignore the alarm bells sounding off in the back of her mind at the danger she felt was etched in his voice. it’s nothing personal, she reminded herself as a bit of guilt creeped up. i’m just..a little sensitive. totally reasonable, right? 

–

The words on the line caught Ivan’s attention. Did she work at a restaurant? Was she a line cook, prepper? Chef? The questions came in roving as he saw her help with picking up the vegetables. “Thanks, I’ll take that now,” he reached over, taking the two carrots and cucumber she had in her hands. He threw her a quick smile, having caught her gaze. He figured she knew who he was – most everyone in Red Ridge did; Ivan Ringen! America’s greatest chef of Scandinavian Cuisine! or Ivan Ringen! The asshole that owns that stupid restaurant in North Side. or Don’t get on his bad side, he’ll probably poison you. All things he heard in various ways over the years, the latter two mostly in the recent months past. 

“Yeah, I work over at Steinbord,” he more than just worked there, he was the manager, owner, head chef and sometimes bartender when the ones he hired pissed him off enough to have them end their shift early. “We’re supposed to be cooking right now to open in good time but it took me almost two hours to find these – he lifted the bundles of vegetables – and they’re not even that great.”

..

“Short-handed?” she asked, a knowing smile on her lips. Even a fully staffed kitchen could feel like there weren’t enough hands. Acacia didn’t comment on his restaurant - and she knew who he was, though it felt strange to act like it. Being aware of another’s existence didn’t feel like it entitled her to pretend that knowledge really meant something. “Counter-intuitive, but there are some farms around,” the woman murmured. “Small ones that focus on organic produce will be your best bet. They won’t save you any time, but they will be worth the trip if you don’t mind being pretty seasonal.” Acacia shrugged - he’d probably think she was crazy or stupid for suggesting it. He wouldn’t be the first. 

“The bigger farms focus more on livestock - either the growing for market or feeding them, but even those have potential. Quality meat, local honey..that sort of thing. If you get in good with the older family farms, really build a relationship with them, the older generations might even let you watch them cook.” And that had been the most rewarding part, sitting across a countertop as an elderly couple taught her how to use the ingredients their family had grown for generations ‘properly’. A wistful smile tugged at her lips, and she was too far in nostalgia to realize what she’d sounded like. A light blush dusted her cheeks as she rose. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I got to talk about that sort of thing,” Acacia admitted, ducking her head down. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind her rambling too much.