❝ Down In New Orleans ❞
Chapter Two; Down In New Orleans
Summary; New day, more work. Just a slice of life with Donatella. Wait, who's that?
The sunbeams shone through the curtains, hitting Donnie's eyes like a laser. She stirred awake, groaning as she stretched her limbs out—making a small crack at her joints.
“Yeesh.. Shitty sleep. Nothin' coffee can't fix.” She smiled to herself, before spotting her kitten's judgemental look. “Don't give me that look, Vivi.”
Vivi was the only cat Donnie knew could roll her eyes at her owner. “Okay, rude.”
Sliding on her slippers, she walked through her halls, opening up the white blinds with a lazy smile. The soft hums of a tune came from Donnie, echoing through the small house.
Pouring the hot coffee into her mug, she heard the music from the street down the block start to play, indicating it was nearly work time.
It was always like that, they played at the exact same time everyday, and it was always 30 minutes before work. Donnie sighed with a smile.
“Good morning, New Orleans.”
And with that, she swigged down her coffee and headed up stairs to get dressed.
Walking down the rocky paths, with a skip in her step, Donnie walked down the streets of Louisiana. The occasional young lady saying hello to Donatella as she walked past.
“Morning Dona!”
“Morning Betty!”
“Good mornin' Donnie, how's Vivi?”
“Healthy as always, Veronica.”
“'Tella, my dear, you okay?”
“Stop worrying about me, Maggie, never been better.”
The "flapper" women in town always took a liking to Donnie, whether it was because she sometimes slipped them an extra sugar for their coffees or just because they found her interesting.
They saw her as a friend, and vice versa with Donnie to them.
The Bell rung throughout the small café, people were already sitting down in the booths, the chef already whipping up a few breakfasts. Donnie hung up her coat and got to work.
Rush hour came quicker than intended. As soon as Donnie put on her apron—customers flew in. The echos of coffee and pastry orders filled her ear drums.
This was her speciality.
Flicking on the kettle and calling out the names of customers for their drinks, Donnie was quick paced today, never in the same spot, hopping from table to table—placing down meals from waffles to hot tea.
“Flapjacks for Mr O'Crowley?”
“Thank you, Don.” The man called back as his food was placed.
“Coffee for Molls.”
“Cheers, sweet.” Miss Molly smiled, taking the mug off Donnie's hands. Donnie placed down a small cup to Molly's daughter.
“And, last but not least—Hot chocolate for Lil' Tia here.” The small girl giggled a thank you. Placing down a napkin for the girl, since Donatella knew Molly's baby was a messy one with her food.
Going back to the counter, Donnie kept up her soft smile. She brushed off her skirt and looked up to talk to the new customer. “Mornin'! What can I getcha today—Huh. Mimz...?”
Looking over the counter, the short flapper glanced back up at Donnie—with a hint of alcohol on her tongue. “Donniiiiee! Baby cakes! Hiiiii!”
Cocking an eyebrow at Mimzy, Donnie poured her a cup of water. “Hey, Mimzy... Can I getcha somethin'? Or you just come 'ere for a chat?” She eyed the flapper suspiciously.
Mimzy was never just over for a chat. Especially after ghosting Donnie for 2 months. She wanted something out of Donnie. She could feel it in her waters.
“What? Can't a gal like moi talk with her best friend?” Mimzy smiled, with one of those salesmen smiles; y'know the ones that try and sell you everything.
“Mimzy, we haven't spoken in months. You gotta whole lotta nerve callin' me your 'best friend'.” The Creole scoffed at Mimzy's excuse.
The flapper chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck with a nervous smile. “Yea.. I got no excuse.”
Donatella passed her customer their strawberry shortcake before turning back to Mimzy. “So... Mimzy. Why are you really here?”
“...” Mimzy was silent with a guilty expression on her face. “Look, I know you don't like usin' that voodoo shit on people, buuutt—”
Mimzy quickly shut up at the sight of Donnie's cold and icy glare. “You need to shut up about that. Last thing I need is to get fired, okay?”
The short woman nodded, before asking again. “Can I get a refill on my water?” Donnie nodded, pouring more cold liquid in the glass.
Donnie turned away from Mimzy, looking at the menu to get her mind away from her hobby Mimzy mentioned just a second before.
“...Are you gonna order something?”
“What can fix a hangover?” Mimzy asked sheepishly. Donnie picked out a slice of cake from the glass sill.
“Fudge always helps me.”
The flapper nodded with a weak smile, before taking a bite. Covering her mouth as she chewed, Mimzy continued speaking.
“'Tella, I really need your help.”
Donatella rolled her eyes, glancing back at Mimzy. “With what?”
“Do you think your... Hobby... Can get someone out of debt?” Curiousity dripped in her tone, Mimzy must've gotten in deep shit to come to Don.
“What did you do.” It came out as a command rather than a question.
“Look. I borrowed some money from a guy a few months ago—and now he wants it back. But he's... Annoying, let's put it like that.” Rambling in, Mimzy took a sip of her water. “He really wants his cash. And I don't have it. I don't wanna get Alastor involved either—”
“Who the fuck is Alastor?” Donatella looked back with a puzzled expression upon her brown complexion. Was this the same Alastor she saw not long ago? Abigail's son?
“Y'know, guy who works at radio. He's a sweet guy, but I don't want to break his trust—”
Yep, mostly likely the same bloke.
Donatella rolled her eyes. “So you can break mine? What's in it for me, Mimz?” Spotting her annoyed face, Mimzy sighed.
Her Boston accent coming out thicker than usual. “You know I didn't mean to... That was months ago. And I said sorry!”
“Well sorry ain't good enough. You nearly got me caught by the police, Mimzy. And I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't even know you were committing a crime until the cops told me!”
“We're getting off topic. But I just want someone to help... deal with him. I have two months to get the money, but y'know me—I can't do that. I'm useless when it comes to any work that isn't clubbing.”
Donnie knew Mimzy wouldn't try and steal her money, especially when she was in a financial situation that not many want to be in. “What could I even do? Like to help ya?”
“...Well, we could—” Mimzy mimicked a slice on the neck with her finger. Making Donnie step back and furrow her brows.
“Don't even think 'bout it, Mimzy. Not doing that shit again.” She let out a hiss, making the blonde frown.
“I've kept your secret to myself this entire time, can't you do this one thing for me?” Knitting her brows together in annoyance.
Donnie paused for a minute. Flashbacks of what happened last time echoed throughout her skull. She shook her head, glancing back at Mimzy.
“I'll think about it. But for now, you don't say anything about this.”
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