you?”
I jumped and came down hard on the wooden chair. It was like a bull had bellowed right next to me. The roar was still ringing in my ears.
“I said, who the hell are you?” the bull thundered again.
The room spun. I shook my head to clear it.
“Hello-o-o-o?” a familiar voice said nearby.
I wiped my bleary eyes. Where am I? Who are these people? And why is everyone shouting?
“I said, who the hell are you, and what have you done to my kitchen?”
I squinted up at the bull roaring in my face, my heart thumping like mad.
I knew it was Dick the moment I saw him. There couldn’t be too many Mafia goon lookalikes in town. He was wearing a rumpled gray suit with a white T-shirt and around his neck was a thick gold necklace with a cross pendant.
His face was flushed a dangerous maroon; I could almost see steam rising out of his ears. A thin cigar dangled from his lips, and the parrot I’d locked up in his office the night before was casually perched on his shoulder. It regarded me with disapproving eyes.
“I can he-e-ear you!”
I stared at the feathery apparition.
“Go-to-hell,” it said.
“Shut up, Jim!” Dick spat, without taking his eyes off me.
“Shu-u-u-t-u-u-p,” echoed the bird softly. “Go-to-hell.”
“I...” I tried to speak, but I’d lost my voice. My throat felt dry and cracked. I looked around me. I’d fallen asleep on the most uncomfortable chair in the bakery kitchen. “I was—”
“And what the hell is this?” the man thundered again. My head started to throb. Does he have to yell?
I looked in the direction of his angry finger. A dozen cupcakes stood on a stainless-steel tray on the table. They were topped with chocolaty swirls and dusted with multicolored sugar crystals. They looked pretty and proud, I thought.
Then, I remembered. This was why I felt exhausted. After having cleaned for Mrs. Rao day and night for months on end, I couldn’t stand the sight of an unclean room, especially an unclean kitchen the magnitude of this one. It was in my blood now. Too stressed to sleep or think about more important matters like how to get my hands on an expensive airline ticket and how to evade border guards with my fake visa, I’d done the only thing I could do.
I’d scoured the kitchen, scrubbed the counters, and cleaned the cabinets. I’d washed the steel appliances until they shone and I’d dusted the shelves and organized the flour and sugar sacks, containers, and tins according to their contents. I’d vacuumed and mopped the floor until the early hours of the morning, and I’d opened the windows to air out the smell of smoke.
This was nothing compared to what I’d done at Mrs. Rao’s every day on top of keeping passing grades and finishing my graduating exams. I’d enjoyed the massive cleanup just to see the final results.
Once done, the kitchen had gleamed so clean I couldn’t bear to see it go to waste. Whoever inhabited this place during the day was sure to ruin my hard work and return it to its dirty state tomorrow, so I'd donned the apron and chef’s hat and baked a dozen cupcakes. When the cakes were done, I’d promptly kicked off my shoes and fallen asleep on the chair closest to the oven radiating warmth and sweet baking smells.
“What did you steal from my goddamned kitchen?” Dick shouted.
“Steal?” I sat up quickly. “No, I didn’t take anything...er...I made these for you.”
“Asha?”
I glanced over Dick’s shoulder to see Katy. Her eyes widened as she saw me.
“Katy!”
“What are you doing here?”
“You know this hobo?” Dick pointed at me, like I was a piece of rotting garbage.
“She’s my friend.”
“How the hell did she get in?”
“Through the window,” I answered.
“Through the window?” Dick bellowed so violently it unsettled the bird on his shoulders. “Through the window?” I was sure he was going to have a heart attack.
“That’s what I said.” My head was throbbing again.
“Who the hell do you think you are to walk in like this?” He turned to Katy. “And why the hell was the window not locked?”
“Dammittohell!” Jim said, not wanting to miss out on the debate.
“She didn’t know I was here,” I blurted. I couldn’t get her in trouble. “I came through—”
“Thru-u-u the window! Thru-u-u the window!” echoed the parrot. I stared at it. I couldn’t decide whether it was too smart, or too annoying, or both.
“Dick, I know her,” Katy said, getting in between the angry bull and me. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, worry lines on her face, eager to please her boss. “She’s a friend from school.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dick didn’t seem convinced. “You’d better have a good explanation why she’s in my kitchen chair.”
“Yes, I do,” I said adjusting my chef cap. My brain was starting to wake up. “Katy said you were looking for a baker.”
He turned to me with a frown.
“A good one, too,” Katy said. Our eyes met briefly.
“Well, here I am.” I spread my arms bodaciously. Katy slipped behind my chair and grabbed me by my weary shoulders. “Ta-da! Best baker in town for your money.” Her voice was strained and not totally convincing, but I was glad she was playing along.
“You know I always come through, Dick,” she said. “You won’t regret this. She’s not like the others.”
Dick stared at her with a frown, then looked me up and down, scratching his chin. I sat up and squared my shoulders, hoping I looked like the best baker in town for his money.
“She’s already made samples for you,” Katy said, “Here, try one.” She was all sunshine and sweetness though the catch in her voice was still there.
“If you’re my new baker,” Dick said, turning to me, “then why the hell are you drinking my rum?”
“Rum?” I looked at him, startled. That was when I noticed the half-open bottle of rum on the table. “Oh, that. I used it in the cakes.”
“You cooked with my good rum?” he bellowed.
“Good” was a stretch, but I kept a straight face. “Good chefs always cook with good rum,” I said.
“R-u-u-u-u-m,” Jim rolled his tongue.
“Damn it to hell!” Dick said abruptly. “I’ve had enough of this yakking. Get back to work, both of you!”
He was about to turn and stride out of the room when he stopped. I watched him warily, fearful he’d yell in my ear again. Or worse. I pulled back, bracing for a slap or a punch. He bent over me, scooped up a cupcake, and limped out of the room, muttering to himself. The bird wavered on his shoulder, trying to keep its balance.
“Wasting my time and money. These frigging girls...” Dick mumbled.
“Friiiggingirls,” the bird practiced, excited to learn a new phrase. “Friiiggingirls.”
I waited till they left the room and looked up at Katy.
“I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head. “His bark’s worse than his bite.”
“I guess I owe you an explanation, eh?” I said, removing my hat and sheepishly putting it on the table.
Katy gave me a sad look. “Mrs. Jones said you needed an intervention.”
“An intervention?” I stared at her wide-eyed. My biology teacher thought I needed serious help? The teachers at my school were an overworked, underpaid lot who had barely enough energy to teach our classes, let alone worry about each of us on a personal level. Other than the one teacher who’d called Mrs. Rao about my late homework, most of my teachers had been happy with my progress. “Why?”
“She said you looked like you were either being hounded by a killer gang or suffering from a terminal illness.”
“Really?” She was partly right on the first point, but I couldn’t tell her that.
“Latoya heard you throwing up and crying in the toilet stall for a few days in a row, and Mrs. Jones asked me if I knew anything was wrong.”
It was true I’d been acting odd lately, especially after finding Preeti’s letter.
“You’re trying to get away from that mad aunt of yours, aren’t you?”
“I guess I needed a place to stay,” I said. “But I didn’t know anyone.…”
“Stay at mine,” Katy said, with a shrug. “You can work here and help me pay rent like the other bakers before.”
“Seriously?” I stared at her.
She nodded.
“Th…thanks.”
“I should warn you, though. Dick fires a baker every few weeks.” She paused. “But I have a funny feeling he’ll like you. Just don’t expect him to be nice or anything.”
“How much does he pay?” I asked, feeling dazed. Things were happening too fast to process.
“Minimum wage,” Katy said.
“Okay,” I said, nodding, feeling slightly elated. I had a place to stay and a way to make money. All in one morning. I desperately wanted to ask what the minimum wage was—that way, I’d know how long it would take me to make $1,493—but I didn’t want to sabotage anything now.
“I was in your shoes once,” Katy was saying.
“You were?” I looked at her, startled. Was she forced to get married to an older man too? And run away from a country with a fake visa?
“I was twelve when I left home,” Katy said. “So I totally know what it’s like.”
We were quiet for a while.
“Hey, you need new shoes,” Katy said suddenly, peeking at my feet under the table.
I looked down at the flat black shoes I’d found in the basement in Mrs. Rao’s home, a pair bought for five dollars at a dollar mart for a girl before me, most probably.
“I have an old pair of red heels you can have,” she said. “They’re a bit too small for me, so I’ve never really worn them.”
“Really?” My spirits rose. Katy had the nicest shoes in town. That she was even thinking of letting me borrow a pair from her was a small but happy spark to a difficult night. Week. No, month. Okay, a year.
“Welcome to the Next Day Catering Company,” Katy said with a smile before walking out of the kitchen.
I noticed she didn’t touch my cakes.