I wanted it. I wanted it so badly. A hand ran over the glass before me, likely trying to get my attention but to no avail, it didn't work.
Those heels where drool-worthy, truly something that would catch brads attention as school.
Once more, the pale hand appeared, this time swiping back and forth over my face. "What?! What could y-" I barked and turned, looking back at the manager behind me. "O-oh, sorry." I breathe, twirling a strand of hair between my fingers, a nervous habit I picked up years ago.
"Ma'am-" the employee cleared his throat. "We're having complaints from the customer-" a sharp click of a heel could be heard as my best friend stomped up behind him.
Now she was barely 5 feet tall, yet she radiated pure dominance. "Lashanda? Is this racist jerk bothering you?" The blonde began to seethe, coming over and taking my mocha colored hand in her own. "If so, I will have no problem kicking him in the mangos. You know I believe the white population sho-"
I cover her mouth with my hand, cheeks warm with embarrassment. "I am so sorry sir, she has maturity level of a three-year-old" with this I grab Janisha's hand, yanking her away and around the corner. "I'm sorry, but what the heck was that!" I wail, running a hand down my face. "You didn't have to pull the race card, Isha! He was just telling me that I was making people uncomfortable!"
Isha scoffed, crossed her arms, and looked up at me and in my eyes. "I was actually coming over to tell you about the side hustle I encountered. With Brads family. They're looking for someone to hand out flyers on the end of Avacado street. Of course, being awesome I automatically signed you up. Because I am awesome" my hands trembled with pure fear and adrenaline.
"You did what!" I bark, stepping around her to peer around the corner and at the newfound bakery the O'Bryans just set up.
"Why wouldn't you- oh, I don't know, consult with me beforehand!" Running a hand through my braided dreads, wasn't easy
"I guess we can visit them, see how I'm qualified." Isha stuck her arms out, laying on them a bookbag full of flyers can be seen. It wasn't like I could protest, so I simply allowed myself to walk to the front of the mall and pass out flyers,
"Cannot believe this.." A few mutters here and there. Outstretching a hand I watched the people pass, repeating the same phrases 'stop by O'Bryans! Baking sale happening!' Of course everything was cheerful as normal.
An hour later, I went inside to get more flyers, prepared to get an armful. But instead, was embraced my a shortish woman with dark brown hair.
"Oh...you must be Mrs. O'Bryan! It's a pleasure." She set something in my palm, grinning behind her mask. "Here is pay. You come back tomorrow for another pay."
