I was so hungry and Redbird’s Bakery smelled so good. It was close to the end of the workday, meaning there would be a rush of office workers stopping by on their way home; Mr. Redbird had chosen a location which took advantage of the nearby offices.
The heat from the kitchen made only one side of me warm, but it was worth it for the smell of cinnamon sweet rolls, cheesy bread, and cake. My stomach was turning itself into a knot, and I wondered if I could find any similar recipes online. I could figure out the cost of making it from scratch, see if it was a treat or something we could do all the time -
I pressed my hand against my stomach to try and stop the next growl. Skipping lunch had been a bad idea, but at the time my stomach had been in knots for an entirely different reason.
First Words. The secretary had said hers to me, and they were so very close to the words wrapped around my wrist. Close, but not quite. And the way she stood (tall and confident and competent and with just the bare outline of her bra visible) it was tempting to take a chance on close enough. It wouldn’t take much effort to go back and show her my wrist and see if she was willing to take that chance too.
More than likely she hadn’t realized I’d said my first words to her. Most people didn’t realize that ASL was a language, and whatever magic or religion or science the marks used recognized it. I hadn’t realized it until I was a teenager. It had been shattering.
Jocelyn was pretty, and Mr. Prince had been surprisingly handsome. The only reason I hadn’t been blushing around like a nervous preteen was the older Prince. Rude and demanding, I couldn’t figure out how a man like that had a son like Mister Prince.
I wouldn’t mind seeing the younger Mister Prince again, so long as I didn’t have to interact with him. He’d obviously been trying so hard to respect that I couldn’t speak, believing it was temporary and not - and not what it was. Once was embarrassing; twice would be mortifying.
Maybe I should ask the forums about Jocelyn. Ball forums weren’t as promoted as Ball events, but users often had advice on soulmates - Ball’s main interest. Hearing something close to my mark and finding someone so respectful of my situation all in minutes had thrown me into a mess of stomach-churning anxiety for hours. I couldn’t even decide if I should do a general post or just DM some users I’d friended. A general post would get a few crude comments - including a few about getting a pair, the most eye-rolling, ridiculous, obvious, immature sex reference out there - but my friend list was limited.
My stomach groaned again, and I almost went to grab something from my lunch bag - a quick snack bar or a mouthful of chips to stave off embarrassment - but I didn’t want to be seen leaving my work and my shift was almost over anyways. Uncle would have a fit if he heard back that I’d been shirking anything. I could survive the hour or two of counting and hauling inventory until then. And if thoughts of the delivery popped up, I could remind myself that my uncle worked in that same building. That would certainly throw cold water over thoughts of crisp suits and ruby-red lips.
“Aaron, when you finish with those can you go out front and fix the sign? Someone’s fudged the chalk again.” That was one of the girls from the front, and I nodded at her to show I’d heard. I didn’t remember the names of either girl, and it wasn’t really worth it to ask and embarrass them about it. I couldn’t say their names, and it wasn’t like they knew mine. They thought I was Aaron.
(Uncle had thought it was funny, joking that “Aaron was the errand boy” as he drove us into town. I’d wanted to bite back at him, but Uncle would have welcomed it. He would have even welcomed whining or yelling. It had been such a bad idea to pretend to be Sarah’s boyfriend in twelfth grade so she could break up with Jimmy, I just hadn’t realized how bad until my uncle caught me. Now I always worked under the table with a fake name.)
Once I moved the last of the packages from the hallway I was able to slip out the back with a wet cloth and a piece of chalk to see what happened to the display board. It looked like someone had bumped into it and then set it back upright again. The special of the day had smeared where they grabbed it. At least they hadn’t left it on the ground; the rest of the sign was readable enough to pull in a few customers until a worker noticed.
It was an easy fix, and there wasn’t enough foot traffic on the sidewalk for me to be in the way, so I squatted down and made the corrections right there. Once again I’d come out without my coat, though, and it wasn’t warm enough to stay out long.
The warmth of the back pantry next to the heat from the kitchens was a welcome relief from the sharp breeze when I came back in, and I fell back into the mindless work until I’d ripped the tape off the last box and logged the jars of honey into inventory. At least there hadn’t been another busted bag of flour to spill all over me.
At 5 o’clock exactly the baker came back to inspect my work. Mr. Redbird was a bit of grump, but it was more because his arm was in a cast and tied tight to his body in a sling than because he was normally grumpy. I’d seen him wincing and cursing as he moved around.
He didn’t speak at first, which was just fine with me. Instead he began looking over where I’d packed things and the logbook, making sure everything was in order. He frowned at the open sack of flour, taking a closer look, but didn’t comment on it. Only once he was finished with his quick check did he turn to me with a wad of cash in his hand. He held it up where I could see it, but didn’t pass it over. “No one knows you were here, get me boy?”
I felt myself tense at the belittling term. Boys were children without Marks; I was over thirty and had my Words clearly displayed. No one should be calling me a boy anymore. It wasn’t like arguing with him was going to change anything, though, except maybe dock my pay and delay me enough to miss getting a ride from my Uncle, so I just nodded with my jaw locked tight to avoid the soundless curses I wanted to spew.
Mr. Redbird must have noticed something was off, but misjudged the cause when he handed over the cash. “No offense meant, but Prince Enterprises is strict on needing background checks done prior to start of work. I don’t need him breathing down my neck on using unapproved help.”
Which would make sense - if he hadn’t sent me over to the office building, to the CEO himself, with a delivery for lunch. Redbird’s didn’t have a delivery service, so why had Mr. Redbird sent the ‘unapproved help’ with the CEO’s lunch?
Why did Redbird’s even need Prince Enterprises? That company ran Ball, a program to help unmatched people find their soulmates. It also helped those with fading marks (or no marks) find suitable partners and funded the newest research into soulmate discovery. Mr. Redbird had been married and happy with his match for many years before she died, and as far as I knew he wasn’t searching again.
My stomach didn’t care about the mystery and decided to grumble its displeasure at the delay very loudly in the almost-empty pantry. I couldn’t help the blush that crawled up my neck at that, and tried to will the gurgling to stop. My family isn’t poor, and it’s rare for us to go without food, but my stomach was sensitive to my nerves and now that they had calmed a bit it was reminding me how empty it was. I was absolutely starving.
It was mortifying when the baker handed over an unsold package of blueberry loaf cake from that morning. Redbird’s hadn’t closed yet, so there was a chance it could have sold. That made the gesture 100% charity and I wanted to just sink into the ground. “Take that too,” Mr. Redbird told me.
I nodded and took the box. I hated blueberries, and I had to remind myself to breathe, but I wasn’t going to turn away free food for a bit of pride. I wasn’t even sure I had any of that left after my belly grumbling.
I left quickly before my stomach could get me into even more trouble. The cash wasn’t much - it never was - but every little bit helped. I grabbed my jacket, made sure my cell phone was in the pocket, and left.
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