Page 12 - 3FrenchHens

12 three french hens, two macarons, and lovers in a bakery

One night, after a particularly busy day, Margot and Zenna found themselves alone in
the front of the bakery, organizing the orders that they would be busy preparing well into
the night. The conversation turned to Aubin and Zenna found it harder than usual to
fake pleasantry. Margot hadn’t heard from him in nearly a week and the excuses she was
making for him were beginning to sound more insane than usual. “I just know that his car
broke down after driving back from his parents’. He probably didn’t want to bother them,”
Margot paused, “You know because they’re so busy. So he didn’t call and, well, he probably
is walking back to Paris now.” “And he hasn’t called to tell you because?” Zenna probed.
“Because he’s going to surprise me. I’m going to be like ‘Oh no! He left me.’ And then,
boom, proposal.” Zenna turned around to take off her apron so that she could roll her eyes
without offending her friend.
The small chime of the door twirled them both around from behind the counter. “Aubin!”
Margot squealed. Margot was about to take off running into the arms of her boyfriend
when she spied something blonde on his heels. She blinked several times hoping to un-
see what she had just saw, but to no avail. There was definitely a blonde bimbo (verifiably,
Margot thought, considering the fact that her mouth, which was just above a very bad, but
very big boob job, was chomping away on pink bubble gum at eight o’clock on a Tuesday
evening). “American,” Zenna whispered. Maybe, Margot thought. A cousin? A young
aunt? The woman who gave him a ride to the bakery after picking an exhausted Aubin up
off the side of the road?

Margot attempted to make eye contact with Aubin, hoping to sort the whole matter out
silently, but he evaded it and playfully nudged the blonde. “What do you want babe?” A
capitalized “babe”, a proper name “babe”, Margot hoped. Zenna jumped in, observing her
friend paralyzed in thought. “Two financiers Zenna,” Aubin said with an inappropriate
wink. “Let’s get the berry ones!” Babe shouted. “A couple of blackberry financiers,” he
corrected. Zenna filled the purple bag, hoping Margot would work up the courage to say
something or at least kick him in the balls, but she remained stuck in the tangled mess
that was surely now her mind. Zenna handed the bag to Aubin in exchange for a handful
of cash. “I don’t need change,” he said, handing the bag to Babe and placing his arm
around her shoulder. They turned to head out the door and Zenna, not wanting to let him
strut away like a cock that just left the henhouse, elbowed Margot. “Do something!” she
whispered.
“What the fuck Aubin?” Margot shouted to the back of his head. Keeping his arm around
Babe he stopped and turned around. “Felicia was hungry and this was the closest bakery.
The food’s not bad so I figured what the hell.” Felicia, damn it, Margot thought, her name
spoiling the idea of capital “B” Babe. “I’m sorry,” Margot said directing her attention to
Felicia, “but who the hell are you?” She asked the question although she knew exactly what
she was going to say – “A naïve little bitch from the States who can put my legs over my
head because I practice yoga every day so that your ex-boyfriend can plough me, his new
girlfriend, every night.” “His girlfriend,” Felicia answered, leaving the rest unsaid because