Twenty Seven

2.4K 270 237
                                    

A/N: I needed two weeks to write this chapter because it... was just so important. Too important to leave it at just a two-scene thing and I figured I'd lay off last week's update to release everything at once because the build-up from the last chapter to this is just a crucial part of this story that is far, far too close to my heart. 

Enjoy.


==================


[Leroy]


I think I saw the look in his eyes before turning to face the person dumb enough to call him out in the streets like he was the one who'd done something wrong and deserved to be punished. For a moment, I thought I saw fear. Then he all but froze over, taking with him the box of doughnuts and starting in the opposite direction.

The next thing I knew, the guy across the street neared us with a phone held up, directed at Vanilla, mainly, but judging by the distance, I would've been in-frame.

"Hey. Hey, why do you hate Andre so much?" People who couldn't afford to mind their own business for a second of their lives had the mental capacity of a rock so I tried to brush stuff like that aside as much as he did; although I hate to admit, he did seem like he was used to it by this point. Which sucks.

I picked up my pace to match his, blocking him from view but already, heads had turned and people were staring. Some other dude smoking by the sidewalk got in our way before holding up a phone in our faces with a laugh; likely high on something and didn't actually know what was happening so I shoved him out of the way. Gently. Not really. Then we turned a bend and the rest of the way back to the ride, said nothing until we were alone in the car.

He sighed first.

"I should have seen that coming. If waiters and waitresses in every other food establishment have taken to recognizing me by face, I wouldn't be surprised if members of the general public have begun to do the same. I'm sorry our lunchtime turned out this way. Just when everything was going so well, too. I should have been more cautious."

I let him breathe, handing over some bottled water and taking the box of doughnuts. "This happens every now and then?"

"In restaurants and places that warn their staff about critics and Michelin inspectors, yes, but... not in public spaces like that." He looked up, apologetic.

"You did nothing wrong. Don't be sorry."

He smiled behind a sip of water, shaking his head. "There's something magical about chefs that charms a general audience. People tend to take the side of emotion at stake over some... supposedly cold critic giving his opinion on food that has always been viewed as a subjective matter. Influenced by factors of the heart."

I picked out the doughnut filled with pistachio cream, holding it out to him. "So they side the madman?"

"Because anger is an emotion they can relate to, unlike the seeming... lack of it?" He laughed a little, taking a small bite of the pastry from my hand. The gesture surprised me. I had expected him to receive it first. "Hm. Not bad. A subtle, albeit fragrant nuttiness despite the cream that is light. A decent dough to filling ratio. Try it. If you'd like to, I mean. You don't seem very fazed by what just happened."

I glanced down at the load of overflowing cream; empty calories, as long as I couldn't taste them. "Those people don't really matter to me. And I know you're not the kind of person to waste your time and energy on... low levels." I finished, blazing a little. He rolled his eyes, smiling all the same.

WaxWhere stories live. Discover now