Page 4 of Exile
“Don’t give up on her, Re. She does better every day.”
Mrs. G goes back to packing away the muffins, and I remember I need to ask her to stay late on Thursday. “Um, I need to ask you a favor.” I bite my lower lip nervously, hoping I’m not imposing too much on Mrs. G by asking her to stay for me to go out on a date.
“Anything for you, ReRe. What do you need?”
“Can you stay with Mom Thursday night? I, um, kind of have a date…” My request barely has a chance to escape my lips before Mrs. G squeals and clasps her arms around me, this time giving me a bone-crushing hug.
“It’s about damn time, sugar! I was worried I was going to watch you turn into a spinster, working so hard and never going out! Who’s the lucky fella? Is it that handsome boy next door, Kai?”
My face scrunches in confusion at the mention of Kai. “What? No, um, it’s not Kai. His name is Dominick. I met him at work. He’s a regular.”
Mrs. G waves her hand dismissively, “Oh, his loss then. One day that boy will come around and realize what he’s missing. Tell me about this Dominick.”
“He’s a cop; he comes in every morning. He asked me out… It’s no big deal, really.” I pop a shoulder, trying to come across as nonchalant. I don’t want to get my hopes up in case my complicated life is too much for him.
“Ooh, I like a man who comes with his own set of handcuffs!” A wicked gleam shines in Mrs. G’s eyes as she claps her hands together. She bursts out laughing when she takes in my shocked expression.
“Don’t be so scandalized, child. Ol’ Mr. G and I had some fun times when we were younger. You don’t stay married to the same person for thirty years without getting a little creative from time to time.”
“Um, yeah, but you’re my surrogate grandmother, and I really don’t need to hear how you and Mr. G got ‘creative’ with handcuffs.” I make an exaggerated gagging sound, and the next thing I feel is Mrs. G’s hand slapping the back of my head while she mutters explicit curses about ungrateful shithead kids.
“Keep that up, you little shit, and see if you have anyone to come sit with your mama while you go on this ‘hot date’.” Mrs. G keeps muttering under her breath about one time in Cabo with Mr. G and the cabana boy, and I do my best to tune her out while I throw the lasagna in the oven to heat. I usher her out the door just as she gets to the so-called “good part”, doing my best to talk over her and ignore her comparison of the cabana boy’s dick size to actual vegetables.
“You know those zucchinis that get left in the garden for too long and turn into giant green baseball bats?”
“Uh huh, yeah, okay, that’s nice Mrs. G… See you tomorrow! Byyyyeee!” I close the door in her face, and I can tell by the mischievous look in her eyes she loves nothing more than to embarrass me with her sexcapades. I make a mental note to not let Dominick anywhere near Mrs. G when he comes to pick me up on Thursday.
CHAPTER THREE
SERENA
It’s the next morning, and we are deep in the prework rush again. I feel another jab in my side while I’m restocking the bakery case. “Psst, your boyfriend is here,” Marie stage whispers to me when Dominick and crew walk in.
“Shit, how do I look?” I ask as I straighten up and try to dust the powdered sugar from my black shirt. I leaned too far over the donut tray while stocking and now have two white circles on my boobs for everyone to see.
“Like you got in a fight with a donut and lost.” Marie bites her lip as she tries to hold back her laugh and fails miserably.
“Shut up, you twat.” I hip check her on my way to the register.
“Hey, cops like donuts! Ask him if he wants a bite of yours!” My face heats with embarrassment as I look up and realize she said that last part loud enough for Dominick, Eric and Dane to hear. All three are holding back smirks, and Dominick is not-so-subtly checking out my chest.
“You know, if this is your idea of foreplay, I have to admit it’s working.” Dominick’s velvety baritone washes over me, and the heat of embarrassment ratchets up another hundred degrees.
“I was, uh, um, stocking…donuts…sugar everywhere.” I flounder as my brain tries to boot back online after being short-circuited by his voice.
“I can tell there appears to have been a struggle. Do I need to take a report? Perhaps eat the perp so it can’t cause you any more trouble?” Eric and Dane both chuckle at Dominick’s joke, and I fight back a smile. He’s never been so playful before, and I can’t help but feel excited about how our date will go if this is what he’s really like. Before I can say anything, Marie leans over with a box holding two powdered sugar donuts, sans some sugar on top.
“Here you go, Officer. The suspects, in case you’d like to take them in for questioning. On the house, since they’ve been on her tits.” She jabs her thumb at me, and I hiss at her in embarrassment.
“That’s enough out of you.” I shove Marie back to the espresso machine before she can humiliate me further. “Now that we have that out of the way, what else can I get you fellas? Two usuals, and pumpkin spice, extra pumpkin?” I quirk a brow at Dominick, trying to regain some of the cool factor I might have lost during the donut fiasco.
“Actually, it’ll be three pumpkin spice lattes, extra pumpkin. These two losers didn’t think I’d have the balls to ask for your number, so now they have to suffer with me.” Dominick’s full lips turn up in a smirk as he gives his coworkers a side eye.
“Boys, if you want to drink a PSL, drink a PSL. You don’t have to make up excuses about losing bets if you want to get your basic bitch on. I promise I won’t judge…too hard.” At this point I give up on the fight to hold back my smile. Joking around with Dominick is doing a lot to settle my pre-date jitters, and his smile is so disarming. The intense, ball-busting cop who was in here yesterday is nowhere to be found today, and I find myself really wanting to get to know this side of Dominick.
“I assure you, Serena, I am secure in my manhood enough to order a pumpkin spice latte without any pretense. If it puts that smile on your face, I’ll drink that shit in the middle of July, just to watch you light up.” My brain goes offline again as I try to process his words. He said something about smiles and lights and pumpkins in July, but I can’t make any sense of it. A long awkward moment passes before I realize he’s looking at me expectantly, like he’s waiting for an answer to a question.
“Um, I’m sorry, did you ask me something? I, uh, got lost…” Nice save, dumbass, I mentally berate myself.