Sweet Talk. Сьюзен Мэллери

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СКАЧАТЬ rear door of the building and entered. “Hello?”

      When there was no answer, she headed toward what she assumed was the front of the bakery. She pushed open a swinging door and entered chaos.

      There were people everywhere. They filled the waiting area, pushing aside tables and looking impatient.

      There were so many people, she thought, feeling a little sick to her stomach. Did they all have to come at once?

      Sid spotted her. “What took you so long?” he demanded. “We’re busy here.”

      Before she could answer, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the back. He set her purse on a small desk, then reached into a box and pulled out a hairnet.

      “Put this on.”

      She took it and fumbled with it for a second, before he grabbed it and shoved it on her head. After thrusting an apron in her hands, he dragged her toward the front.

      “Maggie will show you how to work the cash register. It’s easy. Punch in what they buy, tell them the total. Take their money. Credit cards are even easier. Good luck.”

      With that he disappeared back into the bakery, leaving Claire standing there with no idea what to do.

      The woman she’d seen the previous day handed someone change, then hurried over. “Prices are on the list here.” She showed Claire a laminated sheet of paper by a cash register. “Doughnuts, bagels, pastries. Don’t worry about the quantity button. If they buy five, hit the key five times.”

      She quickly went over the basics of the machine, showed her how to work the credit card part of it, then pointed to the glowing number on the wall. “Call the next one.”

      That was it? Thirty seconds of training and they were done? Claire looked around, not sure what to do. She glanced back at the wall.

      “Um, number one-sixty-eight?”

      “Here.” A well-dressed woman pushed to the front of the counter. “I need two dozen mixed bagels, the same with muffins, regular and fat-free cream cheese.”

      Claire went over to where the bagels sat in metal baskets. She pulled out a small brown bag, reached for a tissue and started putting one of each kind of bagel into the bag. After a couple of seconds she realized the bag wasn’t going to be big enough. She pulled out a bigger one, then didn’t know how to get the bagels from the first bag into the second one.

      “Can you hurry?” the woman asked impatiently. “I’m running late.”

      “Um, sure.” Not knowing what else to do, Claire dumped the bagels into the second bag and continued filling the bag. When she got to ten, she’d gone through all the bagels, so she started back at the top of the case, trying not to bump into Maggie and the other man working.

      She took the bagels to the woman. “I’m sorry. What else did you want?”

      The woman looked at her like she was an idiot. “Cream cheese. Regular and fat-free. And two dozen muffins. Quickly.”

      Claire turned, not sure where the cream cheese was. Maggie thrust two containers into her hands.

      “Thanks,” Claire murmured, then went to get the muffins.

      When she’d gathered everything, she went to the cash register. Her customer handed her a credit card. Claire stared at it, then the machine.

      “Dear God, could you go slower?” the woman muttered.

      Claire’s chest began to tighten. She ignored the pressure.

      “I’m sorry,” Claire said with a smile. “I’ve never done this before.”

      “I never would have guessed.”

      Maggie came over and took the credit card. “I’ll ring this up. You go to the next customer.”

      Claire nodded and looked at the number reader. “One seventy-four.”

      Two teenagers in uniforms stepped forward. “A cherry-cheese Danish and a medium coffee. Leave lots of room for milk, please,” the first girl said.

      “Sure.” Claire drew in deep breaths, but that didn’t make the pain go away. The tightness only increased until it made her ears ring.

      She moved around Maggie and stood in front of the display case. “Which one?” she asked the teenager.

      “The one with the cherry and cheese on it,” the girl said and pointed. “Hello. That one.”

      Claire reached for a tissue and pulled it from the case. She handed it to the girl, then went to get coffee.

      There were four dispensers standing in a row. She took a cup and managed to fill it nearly full. When she carried it back to the teenager, the girl stared at her.

      “Medium, not small and real coffee, not decaf. What’s wrong with you?”

      Claire looked at the cup, then back at the stacks of them. At the same time she saw a little sign above the dispenser she’d used saying Decaf.

      The chest pain got worse. She couldn’t breathe. No matter how much air she sucked in, it wasn’t going into her lungs. She was going to pass out and then she was going to die.

      “I can’t—” she gasped, and set the coffee on the counter. “I can’t.”

      “What’s wrong?” the girl asked. “Are you having a fit? Is she having a fit? Can I have my coffee first?”

      There was a buzzing in her ears. Claire staggered back. She leaned against the wall.

      Maggie hurried over. “What is wrong with you?”

      “Can’t … breathe. Panic … attack.”

      “You’re worse than Nicole said. Just get out of here. Go. You’re scaring the customers.”

      It was just like what had happened the last time she’d been on stage, only no one rushed to help her. She wasn’t urged to lie down or sip water. It was as if she didn’t exist.

      As she leaned against the wall and struggled for breath, she watched customer after customer be served, then leave. They went on with their lives. They had lives. What did she have?

      She sank into a crouch, still gasping. Tears burned in her eyes. This wasn’t what she wanted, she thought grimly. She wanted to be more than a crazy person with mutant hands. She wanted to be strong and capable. She wanted to be normal. But how?

      She tried telling herself that despite how she felt, she really was breathing. Otherwise she would already be dead. Panic attacks were just a sensation. They were a biological response but they weren’t about anything.

      What she wanted to do was curl up in a ball until it was over. Instead, she forced herself to stand. After taking in two slow, deep breaths, she walked back to the counter and called out the next number.

      A man stepped forward. “A dozen doughnuts,” he said. “They’re for СКАЧАТЬ