Gigi loved her motorcycle. She was sleek, gorgeous, with fully adjustable suspension – front and back – and the ability to help her glide around town, swerving in and out of tiny spaces without so much as a scratch on its stunning red body. It was a Ducati (of course), and she was a goddess. Gigi considered herself to be a feminist, much like most, which was exactly why she was all on board with referring to her engine as a she; it was fast, reliable, and a better ride than any dick she’d found in town (sorry, Sam). Legally speaking, it had a horsepower of 169mph, but that wasn’t quite so accurate. With a lot of adjustments on her part, she’d already amped it up to a sweet 420mph – hey, she couldn’t afford a Tomahawk for the life of her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t mimic one – with a little help from Sam, Jim, and Tadashi.
That was the thing about Gigi; she never stopped. She liked speed in all aspects of her life. She liked the sensation that came with the wind whipping through her leather jacket, she enjoyed the way her helmet clung to her head, protecting her should there ever be any kind of collision – there never was – and she especially enjoyed the way the engine rumbled between her legs. She liked to feel like she was ahead of the game, never left behind; those days were long gone.
That being said, today’s form of transport was a little different. ‘Cause sure, she liked the speed. She loved the way the motor purred beneath her as she squeezed down on the throttle, twisting the handlebar and hearing that same, therapeutic growl as her engine revved underneath her frame. There was nothing quite like it. But, from a young age, skates had been her best bet. Long before she’d ever figured out how to hot wire a car or bike, she’d been able to rely on a pair of blades beneath her feet to get her going. There was an added bonus of rolling around town, nothing to cage you, no engine to spur you on; only your legs pounding beneath you, the miniscule, fragile wheels carrying you as you picked up speed. She felt free. There was a sanctuary that came with holing herself up in the gym and pounding a leather bag until the sweat dripped from her brow, much as there was something soothing about feeling the unmistakable iron between her legs as she perched on her bike, but nothing truly freed her like working up a sweat on her own two feet.
She’d been racing around town all day, avoiding pretty much any trace of responsibility she had. She loved her work for sure, but sometimes she just needed to wind down. She’d been going for a solid three hours, never stopping, when she felt the unmistakable rumble of her stomach. She hadn’t stopped to grab a coffee, hadn’t even deigned to scrounge a slice of toast from Holly; she’d flown outta the door after a quick shower and hadn’t turned back. Figuring she’d be better to see to her stomach before further exerting herself, she eyed a store nearby and made a move towards it. Twirling on the spot and dodging an old dude and his zimmerframe, she poured all of her focus into the ramp that steadily guided customers to the entrance of the store. With a smirk, she kicked a leg back beneath her and tore forwards, sliding upwards and, with a careful twist of her frame, flung herself forward, flipping her torso in the perfect front flip, before landing squarely back on her feet. Earning herself a few fascinated oooh’s and aaah’s from some kids nearby, Gigi shouldered the convenience door open and rolled on inwards, taking no notice of the warning signs on the doorway.
Instead, she rolled straight towards the cashier – forgoing any browsing or purchases – and addressed the cute blonde behind the counter.
“So, the sign on the door says no boards, no bikes, and no wheels,” she noted, addressing the woman head on while her hand lazily slid into her back pocket and pulled a stick of gum free. Propping it straight into her mouth, she began chewing, before vaguely gesturing downwards. “What’s a chick to do when those wheels are attached to her feet? We good?”
“But I have a coupon right here.”
Daisy barely flinched as the tiny little paper voucher was waved repeatedly in front of her face. Instead, she slowly raised an eyebrow, selectively forgetting what her boss had told her about ‘service with a smile’. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her unflattering khaki apron that declared her a corporate robot belonging to none other than Cherry Grove’s only mini-mart, and offered the woman in front of her a sympathetic sigh.
“I understand that, but your shampoos are already on a half-price offer,” she explained through gritted teeth. It was hard to keep her cool in situations like these. Naturally, the woman didn’t seem to be able to process this information.
“It doesn’t say anywhere that that means I can’t use my coupon,” she argued.
Daisy stared at her for a moment before reaching out, taking the coupon off the lady and flipping it over so she could show her the terms and conditions where it declared just that and totally debunked her argument. She tried to suppress her smug expression as she watched the woman, an evident soccer mom if her waterfall bangs and spiky up-do at the back of her head were anything to go by, flounder at this newfound realisation.
“Well, they should put it in bigger letters! No one is going to read that!” she said, slamming her hand down on the conveyor belt and knocking over a jar of pickles in the process, apparently determined that she wasn’t going to let this go without a fight. Daisy, physically present but mentally a mile or so away at her own house where Jenna was still suffering from a bad cold, wasn’t prepared to give her one.
“That’s something you can take up with Head Office,” she replied, her shoulders moving in a light shrug. Not bothering to hide her indifference, she simply watched impassively as the woman went beetroot red then snatched her purse back up.
“I don’t like your attitude! And this place is going to the dogs! You’ve lost a valued customer after this,” were her parting words before she shouldered her handbag and stormed out the door.
“Have a nice day,” Daisy called after her before rolling her eyes. She picked up a wire basket and shoved the woman’s unpurchased items into it before shoving it behind the counter, deciding to deal with it later. Removing her ugly ass square cap that was part of her dismal uniform, she wiped the back of her hand over her forehead then propped the hat back on top of her blonde bushy curls and tried to remember why taking a job in retail was worth it. Naturally, all she had to do was think of Jenna and the way she’d been treated to a gummy, half-asleep smile that morning after cooing a ‘hello, princess!’ into her daughter’s cot. She’d left her in the capable hands of Dougie who no longer fretted about dropping his niece when left alone with her, and went out to make a living and flip off any implications about the customer always being right. In her experience, there had never been a time when the customer was right about anything.
With a quiet lull cast over the shop now, Daisy let herself relax, a premature and poorly made decision as the door was soon thrown open and in whizzed a flurry of dark hair and darker clothes, accompanied by the clatter of wheels on tiles. It was a sound all too familiar to Daisy and she straightened up at once.
The lithe figure of a girl, windswept and grinning, stopped in front of Daisy’s till and all the blonde could do was gape at her. She stood there proudly in her roller blades, pointedly ignoring the sign outside. If she was back in Canada, Daisy would have applauded her on her gall and might have even been persuaded to join in but now the sight only stirred up feelings of irritation and jealousy. She missed sliding her feet into her skates, propping a helmet on her head and only barely remembering to add knee and elbow pads before she went shooting around a rink, throwing a ‘fuck you’ to gravity and swerving at angles that defied the laws of physics, skating at ninety degrees to the floor below her. She couldn’t do that anymore.
“Then that chick should probably bring other shoes with her instead of thinking she’s somehow earned a free pass,” Daisy said dryly. She bent down and picked up the basket left by her previous customer, hooking it around the crook of her elbow and stomping around the counter so she could re-shelf the items.
“That means: don’t break the rules,” she haughtily added over her shoulder to the brunette. It wasn’t just jealousy that drove her stand-offish manner; Daisy knew that her boss would kill her if he found out she was letting people skate around his store, and she really didn’t need to be at odds with the man who was paying her wages.
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