A Second Bite at the Apple by Dana Bate Read Free Book Online Page A

need to be here.
    The traffic picks up around nine thirty, at which point a few customers pass our stand, perusing the loaves and pastries. Rick immediately turns on the charm, transforming himself from a disgruntled troll into a smooth-talking ladies’ man.
    â€œHello, sweetheart,” he says to a middle-aged woman who, unless my eyes deceive me, appears to be growing a mustache.
    She offers an uneasy smile. “Hello.”
    â€œIf I weren’t a married man . . .” He trails off. “Woo- ee .”
    Oh dear God. This is painful to watch.
    Out of pity, hunger, or a combination of the two, the woman orders a loaf of brioche, two oatmeal cookies, and two pumpkin muffins, and Rick offers more nauseating flattery as he hands her the bag of goodies along with her change. From his demeanor, it is clear he fancies himself a modern day Don Juan, a perception that, as far as I can tell, is completely at odds with reality.
    As the morning goes on, Rick offers more of the same, each female interaction increasingly embarrassing and unbearable. Thankfully, around ten o’clock the foot traffic picks up, which means I can focus on the small mob descending upon our tent instead of Rick’s stomach-turning chauvinism.
    People push their way to the front of the crowd, and my eyes race up and down the table as I try to figure out who is next in line. I settle on a tall man standing directly in front of me, his gray wool hat pulled snugly over his head. Our eyes catch, and he smiles.
    â€œWe meet again,” he says.
    â€œSorry?” I narrow my eyes and study his face, and then I realize who he is. “Oh, right. From Bar Pilar. The jerk in the vest.”
    He winces. “Ouch.”
    â€œWhat can I get you?”
    He rubs his chin as he studies the table. “Good question. Anything new today?”
    â€œI’ve never worked here before. I’m just filling in for a friend—which, by the way, I wouldn’t have needed to do if you hadn’t ruined everything and forced us to eat at Taco Bell.”
    â€œI didn’t force you to eat anywhere. And, anyway, after last night, I’m surprised you have the energy to fill in for anyone.”
    â€œAfter last night, I’m surprised you think I’d have any interest in talking to you.”
    He grins. “I’m sorry I called you a loud talker. Okay?”
    I cup my hand to my ear. “Sorry? I didn’t catch that.”
    He juts out his jaw and holds back a smirk. “I’m sorry I called you a loud talker,” he repeats, louder this time. “Really, really sorry. Though maybe that still isn’t sorry enough.”
    I shake open a paper bag, holding back a smile. “No, I think that should do. For now, at least.”
    â€œYeah?”
    I relax into a full smile. “Yeah. So what’ll it be?”
    â€œA loaf of the ciabatta and two pumpkin muffins. And an oatmeal cookie. Wild Yeast makes the best.”
    I grab a piece of tissue paper and start stuffing his baked goods into the paper bag. “You come here often?”
    â€œAs often as I can. I live around the corner.”
    â€œYou’ve probably met my friend Heidi, then. She usually works here on Saturdays.”
    â€œIs she the friend from last night? I thought she looked familiar.”
    I nod and glance up at his face. “Speaking of looking familiar . . .”
    But before I can finish, Rick interrupts. “This ain’t social hour, kids. Save the chitchat for the bar. Sydney? Let’s move it.”
    I roll up the top of the paper bag and hand it over the table, tallying the total in my head. “Twelve bucks,” I say.
    He leafs through his wallet and pulls out a twenty. I head over to the cashbox, where Rick is sorting through a stack of singles and cursing under his breath. I swap the twenty for a five and three ones and head back to hand the man his change.
    â€œNice running into you again,” he