Stella Hayes pulled four-dozen Kaiser Rolls from the oven and set them aside on the cooling rack. Once they were completely cooled she would bag them up, six to a bag, for sale. She enjoyed working in the bakery of On A Roll and took great pride in the quality of the items she made. June Rodgers, the owner of the upscale grocery, gave her a free hand to make whatever she liked, so long as it sold well enough to cover the expense of making it, and she’d developed a local reputation and a loyal following. She baked continuously from eleven until about six, making fresh bread, cookies and various cakes and pies, all made from scratch, and all made from ingredients she picked from the store’s stock, including the recipe on a card taped to each item sold.
Rodgers had objected to including the recipes at first, but Stella pointed out the recipe helped sell other items in the store, most of the people who bought from the bakery would continue to do so because they normally didn’t have the time or skills to make it themselves, and the customers liked the fact that the store was open and honest about how the items were made. He relented, and even expanded upon the idea by having Stella offer baking classes four times a year customers could sign up for. The bakery didn’t make a lot of money, but it was a big draw for the rest of the store, and it was one of the things, along with cut-to-order meat and the store’s diverse and impeccably fresh produce, that separated On A Roll from the big chains that competed on price.
She pulled a rack of baguettes from oven and placed them on cooling racks, allowing the long loaves to cool as she began to bag the Kaiser Rolls. The big rush started around three and ran until about seven, and she wanted to make sure she had enough prepackaged items ready for the busy moms and dads. She had a clerk to help work the counter during the rush, but she did all the preparation and baking, making good use of the three commercial ovens with steam injection, and the heavy mixer that could handle up to twenty-five pounds of batter or dough at a time. There was never a shortage of clerks wanting to help her because she alway rewarded them for their help with something from the discount table. She suspected Rodgers knew she was giving away items that were about to be donated to the local food bank, but he never asked and she didn’t bother to tell.
The giant mixer was whirring away as it stirred the batter for her butter sheet cake. She made four a day, two with chocolate frosting, one with vanilla and butter, and one with cream cheese. She was amazed anyone would buy the cakes since they were so easy to make, but it was a rare day that all four weren’t sold. She’d just finished pouring the batter into a giant sheet pan for a cake she would later quarter and frost when she saw the men stride in. From her station in the bakery, she had a good view of the front door and registers, and enjoyed watching the comings and goings of the patrons.
They were obviously part of a club or organization, each man wearing a black leather vest with a silver shield on the back. Inside the shield was silhouette of a man, shown from the neck up, with lines of silver defining his shape on the black background. The image had glowing red eyes staring out from below his low-riding gambler’s hat and the lower part of his face covered by a bandana. The men all wore jeans and heavy boots, their arms covered in tattoos, and were most definitely not the typical On A Roll customers.
She’d was sliding the cake into the oven as the men began to line up at the register, loaded down with beer and junk food. She grinned as Robin nervously rang the men out, keeping her eyes down as she performed her task, not that she blamed her actually. If the men had stopped at the bakery, she would have probably been a little intimidated by them, too.
She watched as they picked up their beer and snacks and walked out of the store, grinning again as Robin visibly relaxed and then turned to face her as she twisted her face into an exaggerated mask of surprise. Stella snickered, gave her a wave, then turned away as the oven began to bleat for her attention, announcing the completion of the four fruit pies.
***
Stella chucked her flour covered apron into the hamper and stripped out of her store uniform of khaki pants and deep green shirt, slipping into a pair of shorts and a light blue t-shirt. The Carolina Diner didn’t have a dress code, other than to dress neatly, so she dressed for comfort. After nine hours at her regular job, she wasn’t in the mood to try to impress anyone with her sense of style, especially for minimum wage plus tips.
She threw together a quick sandwich for dinner and wolfed it down. She had an hour between her jobs. The bakery closed at eight, and she went on shift at Carolina Diner at nine where she worked until it closed at midnight. The only way she could make it work was both the diner and the store were within a ten minute drive of her apartment.
By the time she arrived at the diner the heavy dinner rush was mostly over and that usually made for light work. The lighter workload was good, especially after working a full day at her regular job, but the tips were pretty thin, too, which wasn’t as good.
Two more months. She only had to hold it together for two more months, then her car would be paid for and she could quit the diner job she’d been working for the last year. She smiled at the thought of that. She’d thought she could handle it, and had, but while working three hours a night Tuesday through Friday, and a Sunday morning doesn’t seem like a lot in concept, after a year, the hours really added up. She was mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted and ready to get back to just working at On A Roll.
That was the problem with being a single mom. Babies were expensive! If something went wrong, like it did when her 2000 Chevy Cavalier coughed up a hairball and died with a seized engine, it left her scrambling. She’d picked up the extra job to pay for her new car, a 2014 Honda Civic, but it had taken time away from Katrina and really put a load on her grandmother. Stella still had mornings with her daughter, but if it hadn’t been for Grammy, she didn’t know what she’d have done.
Grammy had been a lifesaver through all this, keeping Katrina while she worked. Stella paid her a hundred bucks a week, and for that she got unlimited daycare. It worked for both of them. It allowed her to work at a job she enjoyed and helped her grandmother make ends meet. Neither one of them were getting rich, but they were making it work, they were happy, and Grammy got to see her great-granddaughter as much as she wanted. Probably more than she wanted if the truth were known, though she’d never complained or acted like keeping Katrina was a chore or inconvenience.
As soon as she finished eating, she loaded her dishes into the washer, started it washing so it would be done when she and Katrina got home, then trotted down the steps to the parking lot. Only two more months she told herself to buoy her spirits.
***
Stella parked in the large parking lot Carolina Diner shared with the strip mall. It looked like it was going to be a busy night judging by the number of cars and bikes parked nearby. She was a few minutes early for her shift, but she clocked in anyway because Naomi was always willing to leave a little early, and Stella knew from experience if she stopped and sat down, she didn’t want to get up again.
When she stepped out of the kitchen to find Naomi and get the lowdown on her tables, she noticed the men standing in line to check out. Ten of them, all wearing the same vest she’d seen in the store earlier. Carolina Diner was a greasy spoon often frequented by bikers because the diner was motorcycle friendly, the food was good, fast and cheap, and it was less than a half-mile off the interstate.
“Stella?”
She’d been squeezing past the knot of men to find Naomi when the man spoke, the voice making her turn in recognition. “Hello, Gabriel,” she said quietly, then moved past.
Gabriel Prince watched as Stella looked down and stepped away from the register, obviously not wanting to talk to him. He looked down as a fist clenched his stomach. Why would she, after what he’d done? He waited his turn then stepped to the register and paid, then stepped out of the way instead of following his brothers out the door.
“Go ahead without me,” Gabriel said to Avery Doctson. “I have something I need to do.”
Doc grinned. “Yeah, I saw.”
Gabriel gave him a slightly sad sideway grin. “It’s some old business I need to take care of.”
He waited until Stella finished talking with another waitress, then stepped up to her before she could slip away again. “How you been?”
“Why do you care?”
Gabriel grimaced at the rebuke. “I guess I deserved that.” Stella made to step around him without saying a word, but he caught her arm and pulled her to a stop. “Can we talk?”
“About what?” she snapped. “What is there to talk about? How you walked out on me? How you broke my heart? How you never once called in the entire four years you’ve been gone?”
Gabriel grimaced again. “I guess I deserved that, too.”
“Yeah, I guess you do. Why are you here?”
“I’m back in town.”
“Goody,” she said, but her tone said something completely different.
“I’d like a chance to explain, sometime, if you’ll give me a chance.”
“Okay, go ahead. I’m all ears.”
He looked around. “Not here. Maybe I can take you to dinner, or for a drink?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay, I get it. Maybe a coffee after work? What time do you get off?”
“Midnight, but then I have to get home. I tell you what, why don’t you give me your number then wait by the phone for me to call?”
“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it, Stella. I’m trying to be nice. I’m trying to explain.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen me be a bitch yet, Gabriel.”
Gabriel sucked on his teeth a moment as his mouth hardened. “Fine. Maybe some other time.”
“Maybe. I have to go,” she said, moving past him and stopping at the table with the teenyboppers giggling while they gushed about Gabriel and his crew.
“You know him?” Tara asked Stella as Gabriel stepped out.
“Yeah. A long time ago.”
“He’s smokin’ hot.”
Stella grimaced. Tara was right: Gabriel was smoking hot. He’d always been good looking with his dark hair and eyes, and the dimples when he smiled, but in the four years he’d been gone he’d bulked up all the right ways. He filled out his shirt and pants in a way he never could have before, and he’d seemed to have gained new confidence in himself, something he’d been severely lacking before.
“Yeah, well he’s still a prick.”
Tara twittered as Alicia and Renee joined their little confab. “Was he hitting on you?” Renee asked.
“No, he wasn’t hitting on me!” Stella protested.
“I wish he’d hit on me,” Tara grinned. “I’d give him something to hit. I think he’s still sweet on you.”
“You know him?” Renee asked.
Stella rolled her eyes. She like the women she worked with, but wasn’t in the mood to spend all night gossiping about a former lover. “A long time ago.”
“What happened?” Alicia asked.
“He dumped me.”
“Why? What happened? Wouldn’t put out?” Tara teased.
Stella didn’t rise to the bait. “I don’t know. He called me one night and said he was leaving. Told me he didn’t love me anymore and didn’t want to see me again.”
“He broke up with your over the phone?” Alicia asked.
“Yeah.”
Tara nodded. “You’re right. He’s a prick. How long were you two together?”
“Almost two years.”
“Two years? And he broke up with you over the phone? Seriously?” Renee asked.
“Yeah. We were living together at the time, too,” Stella said, twisting the knife in Gabriel’s back to make herself feel a little better.
“What an asshole!” Alicia hissed. “You’re better off without him, I don’t care how good looking he is.”
“I know.”
“I agree. But I’d still fuck him,” Tara said with a grin before moving off to check on her table.
“Yes, well, who wouldn’t,” Renee snickered. “Him and a couple of his friends, too.”
“Well, you can have him,” Stella murmured as she stepped out to check on the two girls at her table.