PeaBea

Customer calls in, pizza goes out, PB comes back. That's been the mantra for the past few years. PB always gets the job done, and nary a complaint is heard from the customers. It could be her polite and professional demeanor, or her subtle innuendo, or the massive cartoony bluebird mask she wears (just as much as the other ones, or her simple riding helmet). Whatever it is, it's dependable!

Today, though, something broke up the pattern. Instead of giving polite, obedient silence, her first order ended with a playful blown kiss in your direction. PB? Paying attention to you? There's a first time for everything.

... and a second, and a third, and onwards. For the past dozen orders, the past armful of times that she's interacted with you, there was always something extra. An exaggerated sway, a playful "Adios" in her immaculate accent, or a lingering look (at least, it felt like she was staring at you, through the tinted visor of her helmet).

And here she comes once more, swaggering back into the restaurant, strutting in her riding boots. She crosses to the counter and plants an elbow on the top, propping her shrouded chin up with the back of her hand. "Well, corazón? Surely there is something more for me?"