Page 3 of Merry Me Bad Boy
Yesterday, I told them I planned on sticking around for good this time.
Not entirely a truth or lie. Personally, I said it on a whim in hopes it would help my case. That, and I saw a woman that made me want to stick around.
I’d think last year’s divorce would’ve really nailed it hard in my thick skull. Love istrouble.
That cute blue-haired woman with a cheek covered with flour raided nothing but innocence. Those kinds of women are the worst kind of trouble. I’m already itching to go back just so I can tell her the cookie I got for myself didn’t taste too bad.
Coming from a guy who doesn’t care too much about sweets, that’s quite the compliment there.
Instead of thinking about some woman, what I need to do is make plans.
Kade agreed to let me stay in this room until I could get a job and a place of my own. After leaving an empty apartment behind after driving ten long hours, I don’t have too many options right now.
He won’t let me work at the bar either. Clearly has a chip on his shoulder about Pops. Well, this is the last place I’d pick to work.
Laying flat on the air mattress I picked up last night, I begrudgingly listen to the Christmas music playing through the floor.
Kade’s fiance, Joyce, loves the stuff. Plays it even after the bar closes. If Kade still doesn’t care for the holiday as much as I don’t, then I’m surprised he puts up with it.
Love makes you do crazy things.
Listening to the same twenty songs on repeat would be my breaking point.
Not even love is worth going insane.
When I bought the air mattress, I made damn well sure to pick up some earplugs too.
Tomorrow, I’m going to have my hands full. Need to get as much rest as I can.
* * *
Before I can think about getting a place in town, I need a steady flow of income. Today is all about job hunting.
One thing about this town that hasn’t changed; there is stillnothinghere. Unless I want to work at a gas station or at the diner, my options are pretty slim. In this weather, I’m not risking driving a long distance.
Even with a bit of a pessimistic mindset, I still drive around looking for different joints to stop at to see if they have any positions available.
Before, I worked at an autoshop and fixed cars. That’s my first stop and unfortunately, I already knew from seeing how many people were inside that they wouldn’t need an extra hand. Damn shame there.
The gas station employee gave me one look up and down and straight up looked horrified. They told me they were only accepting online applications. If I wanted a position, I need to start from there.
As great as that sounds, I don’t exactly own a laptop and I’m not sure my flip phone is up to par. My hunt continues on then.
Quick to learn that no one likes paper applications anymore, I find myself growing more and more agitated.
Coming back to this town is a mistake through and through. I’m already thinking about how much I regret leaving everything behind when suddenly, something catches my eye.
Tires catching snow, I glide forward until I come to a stop in the middle of the street.
That bakery with a cute woman has such a tacky sign plastered against the window.
Help wanted. Two words that suddenly sound too irresistible to turn down.
Rather than thinking that this job is the last sort I would have experience in, I’m turning around and finding a place to park.
When I enter the little shop, I wonder where everyone is. I’d think such good-looking sweets deserve a huge long line wrapped around the building. Instead, this place is empty as can be. At the same time, the display counter is looking quite sad, with only a few selections left.
Before I approach the counter, I pluck that handwritten sign away from the window and carry it over.