sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ᴀᴅᴍɪʀᴇʀ

epilogue

A few years later.

Johnny.

I sighed. What I really wanted to do right now was go home and curl up. After a strenuous day, that was really all I ever wished for.

The doorbell rings and I groan in frustration inwardly. Working here in LA was definitely a lot different than in Canada. I push my hair back impatiently as the customer rambles on and on.

"So you want butter cookies is that it?"

"No you don't understand I want butter cookies but with no carbs and not too much butter-"

"Miss-"

"What about chocolate chip cookies?"

"We have that."

"I want chocolate chip cookies but like without the chips inside you know?"

I ignore her and scoop a big size of chocolate chip cookies. She glances down into the packet.

"Wait I specifically ordered-"

I hold in the urge to roll my eyes. Get fucking lost. "There's a lot of people miss, I would recommend-"

She huffs and stomps out. Alison comes out from behind. "Well well not to good of a customer service eh?"

"Shut up."

"That's no way to talk to your boss it it?"

"Whatever."

"There's like a few people left, have fun!" She says in a lilting voice, grabs her stuff and leaves. She doesn't forget to kiss my cheek with her creepy ass lips though.

The moment she's out, I wipe her lipstick off my cheek instantly. Ew. I don't know how much I can take. A flirty woman constantly trying to...nevermind.

It's already 9:30. Get a grip on yourself man.

I let out a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on my face. "What can I serve you?" My headache threatens to take over as the annoying people come and go.

I'm finally left with one old man who apparently wants fries. This is a cookie shop we don't fucking sell fries!

"We don't have that."

"Burgers?"

"Do I look like McDonald's to you?"

He squints at me. "Well I mean your hair-"

"It's called a middle part geez."

"Wait... do you sell-"

"No drugs, sorry."

"Do you sell lemonade?"

I groan in frustration. What is wrong with people. I have a major headache I just want to do home and rest.

"Do you want cookies or do you want to die?" I ask one last time.

"Cookies."

"How much?"

He hesitates slightly. "I thought I was supposed to be the one asking you-"

"I meant how many packets do you want?

"100."

I raise my eyesbrows. "Wait-" he knocks his head. "100?! What was I thinking!"

I silently agree. He probably doesn't think.

"Change that to 30." My eyes bulge out. 30? Seriously? I don't question him though. I just want to go home.

Just when I thought that I could get done with this old crusty man, a person wearing shades, head wrapped in a big scarf and a black expensive looking dress stumbles in.