it wasn’t unusual for her to feel a little tense after the bakery closed. there wasn’t a day that went by that wasn’t busy, whether it was spent preparing actual baked goods for customers seeking catering or shoving little bags of coke inside of a cupcake – it took up the entire eight hour shift, which often left winnie to clean up and count cash in the back. this evening, however, the brunette was on high alert. the streets were bustling with energy, and if she thought she’d be safe taking the money home, she’d do it, but there was no way to guarantee she wouldn’t be robbed. it seemed as though she wasn’t safe here either, as she heard the bell above the door dingle and the sound of the door closing. without a second thought, winnie reached for a rather large baseball bat she kept in the back with her. she wasn’t about to whip the glock out for a cookie robber. as she tiptoed to the counter, bat raised, breath hitched in her throat, she could barely focus on anything else. as winnie reached the front, she swung the bat into the air, not aiming to hit anyone, but mainly to scare the person off. “i’ll fuck you up, dude,” she muttered, before realizing who was before her. winnie dropped the bat immediately, clattering to the ground “jesus, fuck, i’m sorry,” she darted from behind the counter to the door, where she turned the lock and flipped the open sign to ‘closed’. “it’s been a long day, i swore i locked that… we’re closed, but i almost assaulted you, so what can i help you with?” @slchat
Simone wasn’t a sweets kind of person. She wasn’t sweet--- period--- but something had called to her that evening. Whether it was the result of hearing her stepfather’s incarceration or a need to just feel something that wasn’t the mind-numbing sensation of Louis Vuitton heels pulling spurs out of her poor feet, she left it in the hands of fate an circumstance as she strut through the very empty bakery in search of a temporary fix. It should’ve been alarming. Seeing an object whip out towards her face. She should’ve screamed--- but living the life she had it wasn’t uncommon for others to make attempts on her life--- the only recurring thought at that moment was how soon it was. She left the melodrama somewhere back in the early two-thousands when someone set fire to her apartment in New York. Crazed fan or somebody who knew of her stepfather’s prior calamities, it didn’t matter. California held promise. Now--- she wasn’t so certain.
