Chapter 5 - This Was Not on the Menu

I know something's wrong the second I walk into the bodega.

Not the usual kind of wrong, like Luis being out or Catherine acting like I personally invented suffering just to annoy her. No, this was different.

Because the second I step inside, I hear a very familiar voice.

"Bro, what are the odds?"

No. No, no, no.

I turn my head slowly, already regretting my entire existence.

Standing near the chip aisle, grinning like he just won the lottery, is Devin.

Devin, my coworker. Devin, the line cook who never shuts up. Devin, who has somehow decided that his life's purpose is to make mine miserable.

And worst of all?

Devin, who is now looking directly at Catherine. Like he just discovered something life-altering.

"Ohhh," he says, dragging out the syllable. "So this is why you're always so eager to clock out."

I close my eyes. I need God to give me strength.

Catherine, to her credit, looks completely disgusted. "Excuse me?"

Devin, who should really learn to shut up, just laughs. "Dude, you never wanna grab a beer after work, but you'll rush outta there like your life depends on it. And now I see why."

He nudges my shoulder. Like we're in on some inside joke.

Catherine turns her entire body toward me. Eyes narrowed. Ready to kill.

"Pierre," she says, voice completely even. "Would you like to explain?"

I would, in fact, not like to explain.

Unfortunately, I have no choice.

I clear my throat. "I—uh—this is Devin. Devin, this is—"

"Oh, I know," Devin interrupts. "You talk about her all the time."

I want to leave my body.

Catherine blinks, slow. Processing. Calculating. Plotting my murder.

Devin, who apparently doesn't value his life, keeps going. "Yeah, man, you're always talking about some 'bodega girl.'"

Bodega girl. Kill me now.

Catherine folds her arms, turning her full attention back to me. "Bodega girl?"

I cough into my fist. "I feel like we're all taking things out of context."

"Oh no, let's add more context," she says sweetly. Which is terrifying.

Devin leans against the counter, absolutely thriving in my suffering. "Hey, don't let him downplay it. He calls you 'his nightly routine.'"

I choke on air.

Catherine tilts her head. "His what?"

Devin grins. "You know, like 'Oh man, can't be late for my nightly routine—"

"Okay," I say, clapping my hands together. "Devin, buddy, why don't we focus on your life instead of ruining mine?"

Catherine, still looking entirely too pleased, hums. "No, this is interesting. Pierre, tell me more about your 'nightly routine.'"

Devin? Having the best day of his life.

Me? Contemplating vanishing into the void.

Luis, miraculously back at the register, watching all of this unfold like it's premium entertainment.

I grab my iced coffee and start backing away. "Well, this has been fun—"

"Oh, we're not done," Catherine calls after me. Smiling.

Devin laughs. "Yeah, man, you can't just leave your girl like that."

Catherine and I both freeze.

Devin realizes exactly what he just said. "Oh, wait, are you guys—?"

"No," Catherine and I say at the same time. Too fast. Too aggressive.

Devin looks between us. Squints. Then smirks. "Yeah, okay. Sure."

Catherine exhales like she just aged five years. I take a long sip of my coffee. It tastes like regret.

Luis, ringing up another customer, chuckles under his breath.

"Missed a lot while I was gone, huh?"