Page 71 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy
We sit in comfortable silence. Eating. Watching Orry destroy his cracker.
It feels. Normal. Domestic.
Don't get used to this.
Afternoon rush.Three teenagers wanting glitter eyeliner. A drag queen looking for stage-worthy lashes. An older woman who needs help matching foundation after a summer tan.
I juggle them all. Gunther stays in the back. Occasionally he mutters at his laptop. Once I hear him say "Why would anyone organize receipts like this?"
I grin. My filing system is creative. AKA nonexistent.
Between customers I check on Orry. He's napping in the pack-n-play I keep in the office. Gunther's moved his laptop to the floor. Working cross-legged. Glancing at Orry every few minutes.
"You know he's fine, right?"
Gunther startles. "I know. I just. Want to make sure."
"He's asleep. Not plotting an escape."
"You never know."
I lean against the doorframe. Watch him work. The furrow between his brows. The way he chews his bottom lip when he's concentrating.
He's attractive. In a nerdy, unexpected way.
Stop noticing that.
"How bad is it?" I ask. "The books."
"Salvageable." He doesn't look up. "But you need a real system. And maybe a separate business account."
"I have a business account."
"You have a personal account you sometimes use for business."
"Semantics."
"Cecie." He looks up. Patient. "I'm not judging. But if you want to grow, you need structure."
"I have structure."
"You have organized chaos."
"Same thing."
He smiles. "It's really not."
I should be annoyed. Defensive. But he's right. And he's saying it without condescension. Just. Facts.
"Fine. Set up a system. Teach me. I'll try."
"That's all I'm asking."
Four p.m.The shop's quiet. I'm restocking lipstick. Gunther's explaining expense categories.
"So. Office supplies. Inventory. Marketing. Utilities." He taps the screen. "Keep them separate. It'll make tax season easier."
"Tax season's a nightmare anyway."
