Red Riding Hood

Chapter Seven: "Stalked"

Jack jumped as the door opened, but Mark just stepped back from him. The man Jack had always associated as Mark's dad came in, stomping his snow covered boots on the mat. Coughing a little, the man looked up before tensing at the sight of them. Jack felt like he'd been caught doing something bad but wasn't sure what he'd done. Mark cleared his throat, saying rather distantly. "Roscoe, this is Jack. The Baker." Jack cringed internally. He was on a first name basis with his adoptive dad? Roscoe's eyes darted between him, retorting defensively. "I know who he is. Why is he here?" Mark shrugged, saying casually in return. "We're just talking." Roscoe slowly stomped closer, causing the Jack to press himself firmly against the wall to avoid him. Glaring down Mark, Roscoe sneered out in a dark tone. "Talking? About what?" Mark didn't flinch when he answered coolly. "A shelf broke. He wants me to fix it." Roscoe looked at Jack, asking with clear mistrust in his voice. "That true, boy?" Jack nodded, prompting Mark to state out sourly. "You think I'm lying?" Roscoe shoved Mark up against the counter, snapping out into Mark's face. "YES! I just talked to Mr. Stanton. He says you did the job and left early with someone. That's two hours unaccounted for before curfew hit. Who were you with?"

Mark rolled his eyes, prompting Roscoe to smack Mark across the cheek. The sound of it made Jack jump. He'd never been hit like that, and he'd never seen anyone else get hit like that. Roscoe pointed a stern finger at Mark's face, snapping sharply. "Don't you roll your eyes at me, young man! If you're screwing around and putting the engagement that I worked so hard to arrange at risk, I'll lose it!" Mark stared at the sink, refusing to say a word as his cheek turned a soft shade of red. Roscoe grabbed the front of Mark's shirt, yelling out. "WELL? Who were you with?" Jack didn't like where this was going and blurted aloud. "With me!" Mark jerked his head to look at him in shock, just as Roscoe looked at him. Jack shifted on his feet but told Roscoe softly. "He wanted me to make a special pastry for her. I was running him through some ideas for it and the cost. We settled on an exchange. My shelf for his pastry." Jack had never lied so hard in his life, but the words rolled off his tongue with ease and with a sincerity that scared himself a bit. Roscoe released Mark, calming down as he said more collectedly. "I see. Did the shelf do that?" Jack looked to the bloodstain on his shirt, before answering promptly. "No. Some drunks cornered me in an alley. Mark scared them off."

Turning his eyes back to Mark, Roscoe told him under his breath. "You should help him get the shelf done and finish the pastry for her. I'm sure she'll be surprised." Mark nodded, gesturing Jack to start heading toward the door. Slipping on his red cloak, he lingered only long enough for Mark to get his toolbox and then led him outside. Outside, light snow flurries fell as they briskly walked away toward the bakery. The moment they were out of earshot of Roscoe, Jack asked a little timidly. "Does he hit you like that a lot?" Mark snorted, mumbling out. "Not until recently. He thinks I'm turning into a problem child. Since our fight over the engagement and my clear lack of interest in what he deems the prettiest girl my age. He thinks I'm suddenly ungrateful." Jack slowed a bit, whispering discreetly. "Why would he get so angry though? I don't get it." Mark smirked to himself, then pulled Jack to a stop. Releasing his arm, Mark touched Jack's chin and chuckled out. "Have you seen your face? He probably thought I was kicking your ass with that shelf. Probably thought I was blackmailing you or something." Jack touched his face, wincing as he felt how sensitive his cheekbone was. Mark started walking on, muttering over his shoulder. "Guess, you're going to have to deal with me hanging around the bakery today."

Jack stumbled, blurting out in shock. "What?" Mark shrugged, telling him flatly. "You brought this on yourself. I can't be seen wondering around if I'm supposed to be working and YOU owe me a pastry to give to-" Mark stopped talking and stopped short. Jack was lost in his thoughts and didn't realize Mark had stopped until he ran into him. Mark turned to glare at him a little, before Carolyn rushed up to them. She blushed when Mark met her eyes but held out something wrapped in a work cloth to Jack. Smiling, she told him excitedly. "Hey, take a look and tell me what you think. You told me to take creative liberty and I did. I think it is some of my best work!" Jack carefully reached out to pull the cloth back, while she blurted out a little worried. "Whoa... Jack, who gave you that shiner?" Jack froze, asking perplexed. "A what?" Beside him, Mark mumbled out. "Blackeye." Blushing, Jack shrugged out to her. "It's nothing. Just a few drunks." Carolyn huffed to herself, replying nicely. "Oh, geez, Jack. You have to be careful." Jack uncovered the dagger that he'd commissioned her to make, answering excitedly. "I should do a better job of that now."