A Little Bit Of Joy | ✔

Chapter Three : The Boy Called Logan

He didn't say anything and before I could insist further, he forced the words out, "Yeah that."

"Alrighty," I said feigning cheerfulness and pulled open the door of our shop. He followed close behind me as I entered. I pushed a chair towards him, indicating him to sit down. Half an hour went by quietly without him uttering a single word and drumming his fingers softly on the countertop, while I tended to a few customers and then fed my pet worm with dried leaves and flowers.

"You want to feed him?" I asked, the worm crawling on my finger and I extended my hand. Immediately, the flower thief shrank back and I grinned. "You're afraid of little Fred, aren't you?"

"Fred?"

"Ah, he's called Fred. His full name is Alfred González because I like to think that he's Spanish," I explained briefly and he swallowed.

"He's a worm," he spat out and his nose scrunched up when he saw Fred crawling higher up on my arm. "You sell flowers and breed worms? It'll chew all the fresh flowers."

"I don't breed worms. I just take care of Fred, genius. He's so green that he was camouflaged with the leaves of the sunflower. He's one of a kind, do you want to touch him? Look, how fat, slimy and squishy he is." I took Fred on the tip of my finger and brought him closer to the flower thief who visibly shuddered.

"Seriously, if you put that-that thing on me, I'll kill it," he threatened and swiftly got up from the chair, backing away from Fred.

"You murderer, look at Fred! He looks so sad!"

"You're mad, cancer has gotten in your brain," he stated in a low voice and I knew that he didn't mean it in an offending way. He ran a hand through his dark hair and said, "Where's your grandpa? I've come here for a job interview, not to play with that thing."

I ignored him and cooed quietly to Fred, saying that he would always be important to me when my grandpa barged in through the door. He removed his cap and wiped his sweat with the back of his sleeve. His eyes then darted between the flower thief and me. The flower thief awkwardly tugged at his full sleeves, a habit of his when he was nervous, I assumed.

"Who's this skinny boy?" my grandpa asked tartly and now I knew that I had to deal with two grumpy male species.

"He's come here looking for a job. I thought you might want to hire him."

"He already looks dead to me, will he put all his efforts and work?" he asked in a mocking tone and I rolled my eyes.

"Grandpa, if you keep turning down all the people then nobody will be working for us! You need to believe a little more--- "

"And what has believing given me, eh?" he cut me off, challenging me. "Lost her to cancer and now you, is there a reason to believe?"

Out of the blue, he brought this topic and I knew exactly why. I didn't even blame him, he had lost his wife that was my grandma to cancer and now me. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I tried to feed him lies and make him believe that I would survive just to keep him going and not make him depressed, but the after-effects of my lies . . . Well, it wasn't good.

He stopped believing completely in anything and everything, even God.

The flower thief cleared his throat and introduced himself confidently, "Sir, I'm Logan Kellerman and I have always worked hard, you can't doubt me. Give me a chance and I'll prove it to you. I will give my all to this. I really will."

"Yes, please give the flower thief . . . erm . . . Logan a chance. You don't need to believe in him yet, but you can give him a chance. The boy really needs a job," I pleaded and Logan glared at me, probably furious for making him look so desperate and helpless for a job which he was though. I walked over to my grandpa and clung at his arm. "Please grandpa . . . Can you do this for me? I haven't got much time left and I barely ask for anything, so please . . . "

His charcoal coloured eyes had lost its tinge of deep blue sparkle over the years as he scanned my pleading expression. His face wrinkled into a defeated scowl.

"Alright, alright, but only for you," he murmured and I threw my arms over his shoulders in triumph.

"Thank,s, grandpa, you're the best!" I beamed and turned to Logan. "Congratulations! You better be worth this fuss!"

I could barely contain my excitement as I clasped my hands together and suppressed a squeal. Logan too seemed astonished and elated but tried to cover it up with a stoic façade. I did feel accountable for manipulating my dear grandpa, but at least I helped the poor boy get to his feet. I swore that I wouldn't use my disease as a way of manipulating people from this day onwards. It made me feel guilty and disgusting.

"Fine now, get to work you lazy dimwits!" my grandpa roared and I smiled, scurrying towards the counter and pulling Logan with me.