Page 3 of Wicked Flavors

Gwendolyn tried not to wince at the sound, keeping her mouth firmly shut as Sierra darted to the nearby rack of employee lockers. None of them had proper locks. A side effect from years of turnover, and Mary’s barely disguised irritation at having to break into the lockers every time they hired someone new. That hadn’t discouraged her from providing her own lock. She had learned from her first job at an ice cream shop how little coworkers respected privacy.

Sierra retrieved her phone from her locker, a banged-up thing, covered in glitter, with a large smile on her face. It matched her bright colored, beaded bracelets. Gwendolyn didn’t observe farther than that, easily slipping back to her own thoughts.

Pink or teal.

That had been what she had been stuck on before the unpleasant interruption. Gwendolyn had been debating which color would better suit her project at home. Both colors were appealing in their own right. Pink was soft, gentle, and could easily be mistaken for white, if the shade was correct. Teal, on the other hand—

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe Tom!”

Gwendolyn already knew where this was going, but maybe if she just kept quiet—

“He’s trying to get me to take his Wednesday shift!” Sierra plopped into her vacant seat and proceeded to loudly scoot forward with it. “He’s such a jerk. He knows Wednesday is the day after the Fourth of July! Can you believe him?!”

I believe he exists, yes,Gwendolyn thought before shrugging helplessly.

“Like I don’t have my own plans! I’m training the new hire today! We have two days to get her up to speed on the register, then we’re off for America’s birthday—”

Because America will never celebrate another birthday, and this one REALLY matters—

“—and he totally just wants Wednesday off so he can stay up late and not show up to work hungover!” Sierra groaned, dropping her head onto the break room table with a loud smack.

Yes, knock yourself unconscious. That’ll show him.

Gwendolyn hummed in polite acknowledgment, fingers fiddling with the ends of her bright blue, companyissued cardigan. The material itched like crazy, but she had come to endure it.

It was better to keep her internal monologue to herself. Gwendolyn had learned at an early age that sharing her thoughts wasn’t always appreciated. Though, even nearing her late thirties, Gwendolyn still couldn’t understand why it was appreciated when everyone else voiced their opinionsbuther.

Just follow the script,she thought with a small nod before shifting her priorities back to the task at hand.

Pink or teal.

Teal was bright, bold, and a definite eye catcher, but it was terribly hard to find the right shade. She was more fond of bluer teals than greener shades. Not quite aquamarine and not quite cyan, either. If Gwendolyn went with that color, there would be more opportunities to lean into other themes. Oceans? It had been a while since she—

“I’m not covering for him,” Sierra mumbled into her sun kissed arm.

Oh, just tell him you want to fuck him already!

Saying that wouldn’t go over very well, despite Gwendolyn knowing it was true. She may have felt very little of it herself, but Gwendolyn could still recognize attraction. She had seen the way Tom’s blue eyes dilated when he was around Sierra, had seen how he would lean into her athletic frame. Sierra wasn’t any better. She would use any excuse to straighten up the collar of his company issued polo, and would frequently take her sweet time returning items to his department section.

“Then don’t,” Gwendolyn replied with her typical silvery tone as she eyed her wristwatch.

She had another twenty minutes before her shift started. Twenty precious minutes that Gwendolyn would have preferred to spend contemplating if she was going togo with pink or teal. Instead, she was workingvery hardat making small talk with a young woman who continued to pretend like she didn’t have a crush on their coworker. All for the sake of keeping herself employed, and keeping her apartment.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Now that was settled—

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Sierra grumbled as she straightened up and reached for the pudding cup in the middle of the break room table.

Gwendolyn’s amber eyes flicked to her coworker’s profile in irritation. The feeling was familiar, near impossible to avoid in retail. But it was usually the customers that were the problem. This recent development—of finding her coworkersirritating—was concerning, but not unprecedented. She had been with the same employer for over a decade. There was an ebb and flow to the monotony, and Gwendolyn had reached a low point.

She couldn’t pinpoint when it had started exactly, only that Gwendolyn’s goal was to swallow down all of her rotten feelings and continue to go unnoticed by the majority of her coworkers as normal. The less she spoke, the better everyone got along with her, and the quicker Gwendolyn could do her job. The quicker she did her job, the faster she could get home and tackle whatreallymattered.

And even if it were possible, you’d probably get written up for drowning your coworker in chocolate pudding.

A jovial knock at the door drew their attention, yet another distraction. Gwendolyn managed to school her face into a mask of politeness as the door to the break roomopened. A small anxiety pinched at Gwendolyn’s sides at the sight of her manager.

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