Day eight of the Coup D'é-Tea

Cora trudged through the mall's empty grocery store, leaning on her cart as if she was a senior citizen in a twenty-eight-year-old's body. While she had yesterday off, it had been less of a break and more like a wrench in her momentum. Like an espresso machine, she needed time to warm up before performing at her best. Unlike the machine, she didn't have that luxury, and her shift earlier in the day had been a struggle. If it wasn't against company policy, she would work every day; it's not like she did much else on her days off. Alas, Darlene followed the bible of Cool Beans Employee Handbook, so Cora was forced to pause her charge as well.

She let out a long sigh as she entered another pitifully stocked aisle, most of the on-sale inventory gone. Moments like those made Cora wonder if she should do her shopping prior to work, but with Darlene occupying most of the personal fridge with her entire lunch bag, Cora had no place to store her perishable purchases, much less her own lunch. Thus, she was stuck with the slim pickings left over from the day, rifling through brown produce and calculating if she could splurge on regular-priced items.

In her cart, she already had some discounted produce, their bruises and rotten patches blessings to her wallet, and a jar of on-sale mayonnaise. If she remembered correctly, she had cold cuts in her freezer too. It looked like sandwiches were on the menu.

Cora continued down the aisle as she examined the sales ad in front of her, drawing stars by the items she needed rain checks for. The sight of the doodles made her unreasonably giddy, like she was a kid wishing on an actual shooting star. Not that hoping on a flaming ball of space rock ever got her anything.

Just before she reached the bread aisle, movement caught her eye. Normally, the only people around at that hour were the employees, drunk college students, and workers from nearby businesses just trying to get through their errands so they could return to their empty, lonely houses. Well, and Cora, of course.

Never had Cora expected to see Farron there too.

Farron must have thought similarly, judging by the way she froze and stared at Cora with wide eyes. They had last seen each other mere minutes ago after another vicious close-off. Since the first day, and excluding the times Cora and Farron didn't share the closing shift, the battle to lock up had become fiercer than ever. Maybe Farron really had gone to training during her extended absence.

Nevertheless, Cora had managed to close the security door at least fifteen seconds before Farron did, meaning Cora still held the title. As for the blend-offs... Well, the lack of demand for Cool Beans didn't encourage much competition, and Cora refused to be involved in any lunchtime antics after her embarrassment the first time.

But this was a new battleground. Now the question was, what would they be fighting for?

"Farron," Cora said, trying her best to not sound smug about her recent victory. She was unsuccessful, but at least she thought about the attempt.

Farron frowned. "It's actually Assistant Manager Farron Kam. But I suppose you don't have to practice memorizing names much, not when you hardly get any customers."

Cora pursed her lips. In her two years of knowing Farron—or rather, recognizing her and her terrible customer service—Cora had never formally met the woman. To have that introduction be paired with the reminder of Farron's undeserved promotion stung Cora more than it should have.

"Yeah?" Cora said, straightening her posture. "Well I'm..." don't say it, don't say it, "Bean Team Member Cora Chun to you." Shoot, she said it.

As soon as the job title left her mouth, Cora stifled her cringe. That was the official name, sure, but why couldn't she have said something that wasn't so...pathetic? Like "Barista"? Or "Coffee Connoisseur"? Even just "Coffee Maker" would've been better, even though it sounded like an appliance or a bad superhero name. Maybe she should submit a Beannovation to make one of those titles official...

Farron raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Is that what your name really is?"

At the insinuation, Cora froze. She knew her name tag labeled her as Cordelia, and despite her multiple requests, Darlene refused to change it from her legal name. Aside from her by-the-book manager, nobody called her that. Not anymore, at least.

"I always thought your name was coffee cake," Farron continued, smirking. "I suppose that's not really fitting, though... You're not as sweet as people think you are, are you?"

With that, Cora faltered again, but for an entirely different reason.

"What are you talking about?" Cora snapped. "I am a very nice person. Just only to people who deserve it."

Farron narrowed her eyes. "Hm... Your boss is one of those people then?"

"Of...course," Cora said, forcing the last word out. "Look, I don't have time for this. I have things to do."

"I can see that." Farron jabbed her chin at Cora's cart. "Looks like you can make quite the salad with all of that—then lather it with mayo. You do know flavor isn't illegal, right?"

Cora scoffed. "And what are you getting? More instant noodles? That's just sodium and carbs."

Luckily for Cora, that's exactly what was in Farron's basket, along with slices of organic mozzarella cheese and a jar of all-natural, low-sodium peanut butter. Cora couldn't even imagine what Farron was planning on cooking.

Farron didn't seem the least bit bothered by Cora's attempted insult. "What can I say? I like them. And at least I don't mind living a little. Besides, I work out every once in a while." Her grin widened. "Even some nights."

Cora frowned. She had no idea what Farron meant by that, and she didn't care to find out.

"Still, those noodles are probably what's slowing you down during closing," Cora said. "But that's fine by me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get going, assistant manager."

Farron scoffed. "Coffee cake."

With that, Cora continued down the bread aisle. In the distance, she could see a single loaf waiting patiently in the middle of the shelf. It looked a little flat, like someone accidentally squashed it with their groceries and decided to exchange it before they checked out, but it was good enough for Cora.

Belatedly, Cora noticed footsteps hurrying alongside her: Farron.

As soon as the two exchanged glances, even Cora's exhausted brain knew what was going on. The day's battles weren't over just yet. It was time to determine the breadwinner.

Cora picked up her pace just enough to match Farron's, the shopping cart handle rattling under her grip; Farron went even quicker. Farron began to veer her path into Cora's; Cora merely mirrored her. Farron held her shopping basket between herself and Cora's cart; Cora refused to budge.

When they were yards away, their brisk steps matched the pace of a speedwalk. When it became mere feet, their own feet were nearly jogging.

Farron had the advantage of being on the same side of the aisle as the lonely loaf, and even with her short legs, she clearly had decent cardio. But Cora had a shopping cart while Farron only had a basket. She could turn things in her favor.

Just before they reached the target, Cora kicked off the ground and leapt onto the back of the cart in one smooth motion. It was an antic that would have previously gotten her yelled at, but right then, it was exactly the boost her tired legs needed. She had angled her trajectory enough to startle Farron to a halt, and Cora released an arm from the handlebar just in time to snatch up the bag by its loose end.

"Hah!" Cora exclaimed when she finally dismounted, and she held the loaf over her head. "That's two wins today. Guess you're not as fast as you thought, assistant manager."

Farron frowned, but after several nights of seeing the expression after the close-off, Cora could see the slight upwards curve at one end of her lips.

"I didn't realize you liked to play...dirty." When Farron shrugged, her smirk had replaced her frown entirely. "I see how it is. Enjoy your salad sandwich then, coffee cake."

As Farron went ahead towards the registers, Cora remained where she was, blinking in silence while she slowly lowered the bread loaf. Why in the world did Farron have to say "dirty" with such emphasis? In that husky voice of hers? And why was Cora still thinking about it?

By the time Cora reached the registers, Farron was nowhere in sight, nor did Cora see her at any point on her way to the bus stop. She hadn't expected to, especially since Cora took extra long with her coupons and rain checks, but maybe she had...hoped to? No, that wasn't the right word either. Cora had just wanted another chance to wave her prized loaf of bread in Farron's face. What was the point of a trophy if she couldn't show it off? And Cora hadn't shown it off enough, not when Farron had caught her off guard with such a statement.

Even as Cora waited by herself at the dark bus stop, armed with her key and a small bag of potatoes, the only signs of life were the occasional moth and the few vehicles pulling out of the parking lot behind her. But that didn't bother Cora. She would see Farron again tomorrow, when the sun rose on another day of the Coup D'é-Tea.