Chapter 7: Rough Days Suck, but Don’t Waste Cookies

—Kinny—

As the weeks passed by with little stray from my routine, I felt myself gravitating to Rusty's every Saturday, and sometimes Friday depending on if I wasn't too tired to bake more cookies. It was a confortable routine that Twelve fit snugly in. I found myself falling into it with ease. Work, eat, sleep, bake, go to Rusty's.

Three months later, and I've gotten used to Twelve's limited vocabulary. He finishes the whole tub of cookies while I talk his ear off about various subjects I've learned while scrolling the internet that week. Sometimes he'll leave early, with an annoyed face, and head into the basment of the bar. Rusty would assure me that it had to do with Broken Bridge's "Club Business," and nothing to do with me. I didn't mind either way, because like Rusty, Twelve hadn't told me to fuck off yet. So, I wouldn't.

After a particularly rough shift at Nona's, I had finally made my way into the bar. Already in a crappy mood and desperate for some sort of positive outcome for the end of my day, I was deflated when I saw that Fishy was behind the bar, and not Rusty. I made my way over to him and asked where Rusty was. he was making a drink and leaning close to me in order to head over the blaring music.

"Sorry Kinny, He's out sick. Kirsten called Cage, and he sent me here tonight," was his simple reply. He wasn't rude, but since he didn't normally serve drinks, I could tell he wouldn't be able to focus on me much longer, and needed to finish what looked like a long line of orders.

I took that as a sign to find someone else to give Rusty and Twelve their cookies. I couldn't stay long anyway, my shift ended two hours late and it was already getting dark. After scanning the bar for a few minutes, I spot a group of newer Prospects, guys that weren't patched in to the club, but wanted to be, playing pool at one of the tables in the corner.

I made my way over to them, clutching the tubs tighter in one hand, settling some of their weight on my hip. I hoped that my bubbly energy would work on them, and waved to get their attention. "Excuse me? Please, I was hoping you could do me a favor?" I asked a bit timidly, but polite all the same.

One of them halted their shot, and turned towards me with disgust, while the brunnette infront of me leaned on his cue, interest had taken over his features. The whole situation made the hairs on my back stand up.

"No, but you could do me a favor." The brunnette said suggestively. I tried my best not to cringe, and ignored his crude statment. "I just wanted to know if you'd give these cookies-" I started to hold out the cookies infront of me, willing my arms not to shake. The brunnette swatted the cookies out of my arms not even a second later.

The man staring at me in disgust looked at the brunnette in shock, and fear. I couldn't do much but stare at the ground while he spoke. "If you aren't going to be useful, get the fuck out of my face." Spit was flying from his mouth, and my head snapped up to him in shock. I don't know how long I stood there not saying anything smiling like an idiot, and frozen, but eventually the brunnette stepped towards me menacingly. On instinct I took a step back, my smile dropping from my face.

"Fuck. Off." He didn't have to say anything else after that. I had gotten the message. I simply turned on my heel and walked out the door. I could hear the other guy faintly say "Dude, what did you just do?" to the brunette, but I couldn't be too sure, my rage was blinding me as I left. I had dealt with jerks all day, but none of them wasted perfectly good cookies.