The lousy client
1417 Words
JOANNA’S BAKERY
The rush at Joanna’s bakery was already in full swing. The enticing aroma of freshly baked muffins, cupcakes, bread, and sugar delight mingled with the rich scent of espresso. Chantelle worked behind the counter, moving swiftly professionally and practicing grace between orders.
“Order 97!” she called out cheerfully, settling the order on the pick-up counter. The line moved quickly. Chantelle had always taken pride in keeping the line working, even when her knees were killing her. She was one of the best workers at the bakery and popular among regulars even though she was a part-timer.
The bell above the door dinged. A short, well-dressed, and beautiful woman walked in impatiently. Her sharp eyes scanned the area, trying to find her target, and her face was painted in fury. She moved quickly past the line to the counter.
“You slut! How dare you!”
The entire space fell silent, and everything shifted.
“Excuse me, ma'am?” Chantelle was confused.
“You heard me, cheap filthy w***e!” Her voice was loud.
“With due respect, ma'am, I don't know you.”
“Stay away from my husband hooker!”
Gasps filled the room. A few customers stepped away from the line. Brenda, the bakery owner, popped her head from the back of the office. She recognized the woman.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Chantelle defended.
“Liar! You have been seducing my husband! Sending him nudes, flirting, and throwing yourself at him when he comes in here! Look at you, always wearing light clothes behind the apron to seduce people’s men! You are a slut!”
Chantelle tried to stay calm even though her heart was racing. “I don't know your husband.”
“My husband is Mr Chad!”
“Ma’am, your husband is nothing but a customer here.”
“Liar! My husband has been praising some curvy girl with a pretty face at the bakery. It's you! So don't you dare lie to me!”
“Ma’am, I suggest you talk to your husband; he should stop gawking after women who aren't his wife.”
“How dare you!” she reached over the counter, grabbed Chantelle's hair, and began to hit her. Chantelle tried to fight her off, but she was cornered.
Brenda came to her rescue and pushed the woman off. The bakery was in chaos. Customers whispered, some phones recorded, and their eyes judged Chantelle. Her cheeks burned from the hit; she felt humiliated.
“I am going to sue you!”
“Ma’am, calm down. You can't come in here and hit my worker.” Brenda breathed out.
“This w***e has been having an affair with my husband. You shouldn't have someone like her in your business.” She tried to reach out to Chantelle again but failed.
“I have nothing to do with your husband.”
“I am going to sue you and this business if you don't fire this wench!” she said to Brenda.
“Alright. You won't be seeing her around anymore.” Brenda replied
Chantelle’s eyes widened. “Brenda—”
“I will be back!” The woman screamed, storming out of the bakery.
Chantelle stared at Brenda, who gave her a look of sympathy and concern.
“To my office.” Brenda walked off, and Chantelle followed closely behind.
“You can't fire me, Brenda. I have worked here for two years. I don't have any relationship with Mr Chad. He always flirted with me, but I ignored it. I have turned down dozens of men who came in here looking for more than what we offer,” Chantelle said quietly, her hands trembling.
“I believe you, Chantelle. I know you can't do such a thing, but I can't have the business running to the ground because of this issue. That woman is very influential and connected to powerful people. I am sorry, Chantelle. But I have to let you go.”
“Just like that? Brenda, I worked double shifts during holidays; I have never been late or have an issue with you; I have been—”
“I don't have a choice, Chantelle,” Brenda whispered.
Chantelle nodded, trying hard to swallow the lump in her throat. Brenda passed her a few cash and avoided looking at her. Chantelle left the office without a word.
******************
CHANTELLE’S STUDIO APARTMENT
Chantelle sat on the tiny couch in her apartment with her legs curled up. It had only been an hour since she had been fired from the bakery, and the day was still very young. The issue at the bakery still replayed in her head, and it was surprising that she couldn't even cry to let out the extreme pain in her heart.
Her phone buzzed; it was a call from her friend Janice. Chantelle picked up the call. "Hey, Janice,” she said in a tired tone.
“Hey. You sound like you just got run over,” Janice said.
“Yeah. I just got run over by a huge truck of disappointment.” Chantelle’s voice was dry.
“What's wrong?” Janice asked.
“I got fired at the bakery about an hour ago. Some woman accused me of having an affair with her dry-headed husband. It didn't go down without her hitting me.”
“Oh my God! Chantelle! All of that happened, and you didn't bother to call me. Who is she? Was she out of her mind? We need to find her!” Janice sounded angry over the phone.
“She's not someone to mess with. Brenda stated that clearly.” Chantelle whispered.
Janice sighed. “These rich people think they can get away with anything. You want me to come over?”
“No. I am fine. I don't know what to do anymore. Edwardo showed up. He's threatening to sell me to a strip club.”
“That numbskull!” Janice fumed.
“I can't default on the next payment, Janice.”
There was a pause. “Well, I wasn't going to bring this up, but maybe the offer would be good.”
“Please let me in, Janice. I can do anything as long as it is clean and legal.” she sounded desperate.
“Yeah. It's all clean and legal.”
“Alright.”
“A colleague of mine who works at Queens Care Hospital told me they are looking for egg donors. The pay is real good.”
Chantelle straightened her legs. “Egg donors?”
“Yeah. It only entails medical background checks and contracts. They match egg donors with someone who needs them, you donate, and you walk away with life-changing money. You get enough to pay some of your debt and probably start something with the business.”
Chantelle laughed. “You make it look so easy.”
“Chantelle, I know this might sound crazy, but I'm serious. You can start over—”
“Yeah. Somewhere, no one knows me.” Chantelle interjected.
“Good plan. Chantelle, you deserve a break.”
There was a silence that reigned for about a minute. “Chantelle?”
“I'm here. I don't know if this is right. It feels like I am going to be selling a piece of myself. It feels weird.”
“I get it. Trust me on this one. It's better than being broke and hopeless. You need this to get those sharks off your doorstep.”
Chantelle felt Janice’s words deep in her heart. She looked around the tiny studio apartment. She noticed cracks in the wall; it felt like everything was falling apart. She knew her life needed a change.
“Alright. Send the info.” Chantelle said.
“Are you sure?”
“No. I don't know if I want to do this, but I am out of options. Once I donate the eggs and get the money, I will disappear to somewhere far.”
“It's in your DM. You have to be there by noon.”
Chantelle glanced at the wall clock; it was 11:20 a.m. “Alright. I will fill out the form and be there by noon.”
“Alright. Please keep me updated.” the line went off.
Chantelle heaved a huge sigh. This should be it. Enough cash to disappear to a place where no one knows her name, somewhere these scrawny loan sharks would never find her.
- Writer
