Pomegranate Seeds

1. Put That Cookie Down

The sun was setting, casting long shadows off of telephone poles and making the sidewalk ice glint orange, but I knew that it was noon. It was always noon in the bakery, no matter where the sun was in the sky.

It was the murals that did it. The walls of Rodi Bakery were an eternal picture of springtime. There were hills covered in vibrant grass, with blue birds and white butterflies frozen in the midday sky. The scene was painted with a level of realism that awed and entertained the customers but unnerved anyone who had to stay there for too long. It looked more real than the outside world. It only takes a few weeks of staring at it to forget what a day is.

Like everyone who worked there, I measured time in shifts and waves of customers. The dessert rush was starting to peter out, and there was about half an hour before closing and the official end of my shift. It had been a long day. My legs were so stiff from standing at the register, I wasn't sure if I had knees anymore.

Ivon shot me a sympathetic glance from the other register. “Hey Tanner, I'm going to start cleaning up,” he said to me as he pulled the drawer out of his cash register. “You hold down the fort.”

For the first time that day, I smiled for real. Manning the register was a pain, but cleaning up the back room was an even bigger one, and I'd had a double shift that day. I needed the break. If Ivon hadn't offered, I probably would have made him do it.

Ivon vanished into the back room, leaving me alone with the dwindling crowd of customers. Getting more than another handful of orders before closing was unlikely, so I started wiping crumbs off of the polished wood counter to occupy myself. Only seconds after getting a good rhythm going, I was snapped out of my trance by two unfamiliar hands placing themselves on the far side of the counter.

I looked up. A girl with short and curly blonde hair stood before me, staring. I recognized her. She had come in earlier with a herd of high school girls—the same group that was busy giggling at their smartphones on the other side of the bakery—but hadn't ordered anything. That was nothing strange. Rodi Bakery didn't exactly sell health food, and dieters dragged along by their friends often kept their distance from the pastry displays. Maybe this girl had changed her mind.

Whatever the case, I put on a salesmen's smile. “How may I help you?”

She looked up at the menu, placing a hand on her cocked hip. I didn't like the way she was standing. It was kind of sexy, but in an obnoxious, unnecessary way that made me wish she would quit it and let me focus. I pretended to wipe more crumbs away and tried not to look.

“I'll have...” She squinted at the menu, as if reading the fine print on a contract. “One white chocolate pomegranate cookie, please.”

Her words sent a shudder through my body, and I had to grab the edge of the pastry display to keep myself from stumbling.

“Sorry.” I straightened my apron and readjusted my smile. “What was that?”

“I said I'll have a white chocolate pomegranate cookie.” She was already starting to sound testy.

Shit. Of all the items on the menu, this girl just had to order the pomegranate cookies. I was way too tired for this. Still, I had to play it cool. I had faced similar situations before, and my strategy for dealing with it was foolproof.

I clenched my teeth and sucked in a breath. “Honestly, I wouldn't recommend those.” I leaned in closer and lowered my voice, as if I was letting her in on a secret. In truth, I was letting her in on a lie. “We've been having problems with our fruit supplier. The last load of pomegranates they sent us was bad, so we had to toss them. Those ones in display are a week old. We're only keeping them out because they look nice.”