by Eliza Ellis
“Please, you can call me Pete. Everyone else does.”
“Doesn’t Keke call you Petey?”
Pete handed her his stick, avoiding eye contact in case his rolled to the sky. “Not by permission.”
Lea giggled. “I really do think it’s cute. But I understand if you don’t like it.”
Ego properly stroked, Pete said, “Well, if you like it so much.”
Lea enthusiastically nodded. “I do. But I’ll call you whatever you want.”
The heat from campfire was really, really hot. “Then you’re the only one I’m allowing to call me Petey.” He grinned, and his chest swelled. He wiped the sweat on his forehead with the back of his arm.
“Thank you…Petey,” she said in a demure tone, complete with a lowering of her eyelids.
Pete never felt more like a conqueror. And with only one lesson from Keke. What else could he accomplish with more lessons? He jumped up off the large tree log that created a seat and maneuvered past the kids sitting on his opposite side.
The night air felt cooler the further away he moved from the fire, but the humidity of the summer night still made his shirt stick to his skin. Yet, the drop in temperature refreshed him after sitting next to the fire and the additional heat his body produced thanks to his overactive nerves.
But talking to Lea hadn’t been as daunting a task as he had previously assumed. The only girls he had ever been comfortable talking to had been chess club and debate club members.
And the ones in the computer science club.
Pretty much any official nerd club. They weren’t knockouts like the cheerleaders and so, technically, weren’t really…women? They were more like…buds. Like him.
Keke stood behind the table littered with everything for their campfire s’mores. Graham crackers, bags of marshmallows, and bricks of chocolate. When she met his gaze, he winked.
“I saw you chattin’ it up with the hottie camp counselor,” she whispered when he came near.
Her teasing smile only emboldened him. “I took your advice. Start with something simple. Already knew her name, so I just asked how her first night was.”
Keke’s eyes grew big, and her mouth formed a small “O.” “Not that hard, is it, Casanova?”
Pete rolled his eyes. “Stop. It’s harder than you think for a guy like me.”
Keke popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth, followed by a giant marshmallow. She shoved the marshmallow to one cheek. She looked as cute as a hamster.
“What does that mean?” she asked around the food in her mouth. “‘A guy like me’?”
Pete shrugged. “One who’s as introverted as I am. Who doesn’t exactly have the looks to pull off attracting the opposite sex with just eye contact.”
Keke snickered. “Whatever, Petey.”
He didn’t correct her use of his unsanctioned nickname. Didn’t seem right not to let her continue using it, even though he’d told Lea she was the only one allowed.
“You’re smart—hello, Cornell?—and the gym obviously agrees with you.”
She kept her eyes averted from his form, which had Pete smiling. Pete leaned against the table and crossed his arms over his chest. He angled close to Keke. “So, what exactly are you trying to say?”
Keke’s narrowed gaze hit him. “Don’t push your luck.”
“It’s lip service then.” He began breaking pieces of chocolate for the s’mores he and Lea would make. “You don’t really mean anything by it.”
“It’s not lip service, you goof,” she argued.
Their fingers intertwined, and they both eyed their hands. Stuck in the marshmallow bag. When they both pulled back, their hands remained in the bag they had lifted off the table together.
Pete placed the chocolate on the table and wrapped his other hand around Keke’s forearm as she continued to thrash it around, taking his arm with her. “Relax,” Pete ordered. “You’ll rip the bag, and there will be marshmallows everywhere.”
She stilled beneath him, and he removed his hand first and held the bag so it wouldn’t fall off her wrist. Even in the firelight, he could see the goosebumps on her arm. She was nervous.
“There. You are free, m’lady.”
M’lady? Where did that come from? He hadn’t played a Middle Ages fantasy game in a while.
She hurried to put the bag on the table. “Thank you,” she murmured.
When she finished piling marshmallows into a bowl, Pete grabbed a couple for him and Lea. “You seeing anyone?” he asked casually.
“Huh?” Keke gave him a weird look.
Pete shrugged. “You know. Did you meet anyone in school? You have a boyfriend?”
“Aren’t we nosy.”
“No! I’m sorry…I didn’t mean—”
Keke laughed. “I’m just messin’ with you. And no, are you kidding? I’m happily single.”
Pete studied the side of her face. Even though she’d just laughed, her jaw appeared tight. “Why say it like that?”
“Like what?” She continued to avoid eye contact.
“Like it would be terrible to have someone special.”
Keke bit into a marshmallow. “I’m not the relationship type.”
Pete frowned. Her parents famously had a tumultuous relationship. Well, her father was known as the hard one and her mother as the meek and timid woman most people wanted to save, but few would ever risk talking to her about leaving Mr. Kaye.
“Does it have anything to do with your parents’ marriage?” Pete asked softly. “I mean, I get it if that’s the reason.”
Keke gave him a closed-mouth smile. “Look, you are doing a great job with Lea. Keep up the good work.” She patted him on the back and moved toward the gigantic campfire. Kids cheered and screamed when she presented her group with extra marshmallows, chocolate, and crackers. Greedy kids reached for the bowl, but Keke ordered them to keep calm and pass the bowl around.
Pete went to sit next to Lea. She smiled and chatted about her upcoming summer fellowship, excited to finally be able to do serious study in the field of marine biology. Pete politely nodded and dropped a few “uh-huhs” and some “that’s amazings” to keep the conversation going. It amazed him how little effort it took to have a conversation with her.
If only he was interested in what Lea had to say.
He glanced at Keke. The same closed-mouth smile with very little happiness in her eyes. Talking with her only further intrigued him. What else would she teach him?
Whatever lessons she had planned, he’d start using them on her.
Chapter 7
“You’re here early.”
Keke’s sister Katrina opened the front door of the bakery and ushered Keke inside. They shared a long embrace.
“It’s good to see you, sis,” Kat said. Her smile reached her dark eyes. “You look exactly the same.”
“Kaye family genes.”
Kat chuckled. “I expected you to look four years older.”
“What are you talking about? We FaceTime, like, once a month.”
Kat wrapped an arm around Keke’s waist, and they headed back toward the kitchen. “I know, I know. But it’s not the same as seeing you in person. It has been four years.”
Keke groaned. “Are you going to give me grief about that, too? Kori didn’t even make it back for my graduation. She’s stayed away a lot longer than I have.”
“Kori is a very busy executive assistant. Her boss is a tyrant who rarely gives days off. Whenever she has a free moment, she’s asleep. You have holidays and winter and summer breaks.”
“Which I used to work. Had to save up money. And I did several dancing fellowships over the summer months. I think they really helped hone my craft.”
“Did you earn enough money for L.A.?”
Keke nodded. “I already have a place lined up and about six months’ worth of rent.”
“Good. Aren’t you supposed to be working at the summer camp right now?”
“I am. The kids are still asleep. I t
old Bertie I’d be back in less than an hour. Promised to sneak them in a few goodies.”
“Well, come on back. I’m just finishing some of the bread. Then it’s on to the donuts before the first patrons arrive. They love it when the donuts are warm, straight from the oven.”
“I’ll love it too,” Keke said. “And I’ll even taste-test a few to make sure they’re as good as I remember.”
Kat laughed merrily and guided Keke into the back of the shop where Kat made sugary magic.
It smelled wonderful. Katrina usually started baking around two o’clock in the morning to have enough of the breads and various types of pastries the bakery sold before the shop opened. One summer, she’d asked Keke if she wanted to learn how to bake and work in the shop. Keke had said she’d do it if she wanted to be a fat dancer.
Which she didn’t.
Keke snatched an uniced mini cupcake from the cooling tray when she entered the kitchen. She flicked it into her mouth and groaned. “This is amazing!” She covered her mouth so as not to spit any of it out.
Kat grimaced. “Please don’t touch anything else until you’ve washed your hands. And thank you. It’s a new and improved birthday cake recipe.”
“When are you going to try again?” Keke asked. “With opening your own shop.”
Kat busied herself with kneading dough.
“Kat?” Keke emphasized her sister’s name. “I know you heard me.”
Kat smiled. “And I’m choosing not to answer. You’re here to talk about you and Mother. But first, I want the real reason.”
Here we go. Keke had been avoiding this conversation for months. Sometimes she wouldn’t answer her sister’s calls, and other times she’d change the subject or get off the phone. What did it matter? Their father was dead.
Finally.
End of story.
Moving on.
“I told you,” Keke began.
“And I know that was a falsehood, Keighly. Even if you were having exams, I know you could’ve made them up because it was a family emergency.”
Keke snickered. “Our father’s death isn’t an emergency. It’s a freakin’ relief.”
Kat frowned. “Don’t be like that.”
Keke arched a brow. “Like what?”
“Unkind,” Kat said simply. She sliced the dough and put the pieces into different loaf pans. Keke washed her hands while Kat put the pans into the oven.
“After what our father did to us?” Keke snatched another mini cupcake off the counter. This conversation warranted a little emotional eating. “I don’t think I’m being unkind at all. It’s the truth.”
“You always had your version of the truth, and everyone else’s meant nothing at all.”
Keke hopped up onto a stool opposite her sister at the center island. She contemplated her sister’s words while making small circles in the flour scattered on the counter’s surface. Was she as insensitive as her sister suggested? Did she care about anyone else’s experience with their dad? She hadn’t asked them about him in a long time. Especially not Kat, who still lived here, even though she was older than Keke by two years.
Kat continued. “And because Kornelia was away—”
“Oh, so you’d accept her excuse and not mine?”
Kat looked annoyed. “You know Kori’s boss is the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. She was out of the country—across the world. There was no way she’d make it back in time for the funeral.”
“Well, then. There you go!”
“But she did make it back a couple days after we buried Father. She came home.”
“I’m home now,” Keke grumbled, wishing she wasn’t.
Their father had died unexpectedly from a heart attack. Keke had considered it karma for the black heart he had. When their mother had called with the date and time of the funeral, Keke made up the excuse about having to take an exam that would count as a hefty percentage of her grade. In truth, it was a quiz that Keke could’ve definitely made up, and one that she aced without even studying.
She had managed to suppress the strange, nagging guilt that lingered long after the funeral. No one liked Gregory Kaye all that much. Keke least of all. He’d convinced her his mission in life had been to cause his daughters emotional distress. Never support them. Never encourage them. Always denigrate and tell them they’d amount to nothing.
“And have you seen Mom?”
“Kat, I just drove in yesterday, literally an hour before the kids showed up to the camp.”
“On purpose,” she said underneath her breath.
Keke ignored her. “I barely have time to see you right now!”
Kat huffed. “Fine. But you should see her. She’s…” Kat looked away. She grabbed the cutout for donuts and began punching the dough with it.
Keke’s shoulders dropped with a sigh. “All right, I’ll bite. She’s…what?”
“Not well.”
“What do you mean?” Keke asked with annoyance in her tone.
“I mean she’s ill.”
Keke refrained from asking how ill. Part of her wanted to know, and part of her didn’t. If it was serious, then she’d have to stop delaying her visit—which she hadn’t exactly decided to do yet. But if it wasn’t, then she’d still have an excuse to stay away for as long as she could.
She did want to brag—in person—about her audition and her move to L.A. To see the look on her mother’s face. Her father had already expressed his opinion about her prospects before he died, and her mother did little more than agree. To finally prove that her hard work wasn’t in vain… She hadn’t won the part just yet, but it was a step in the right direction.
“Anyway,” Kat continued, “you should probably see her before you leave. When’s your audition?”
“Next week.”
Kat genuinely smiled. Her eyes brimmed with moisture. “You’re really doing it. The last of the Kaye sisters is making something of herself. I really am proud of you, Keighly.”
Keke’s cheeks warmed, and she struggled for another place to look. She opted for the beautiful sight of the mini cupcakes. She couldn’t have any more or she’d have to start paying.
“Thanks,” she said. “I think I’ll get the part.”
“Of course you will! You’re an incredible dancer. They’d be lucky to have you. How are you enjoying summer camp? You must love seeing Bertie again.”
Keke hunted around for a spoon. “I do. Although…”
As though reading her sister’s mind, Kat handed Keke a spoon. Kat then took another and scooped some icing out of a large container and dumped it into a paper bowl. She handed the bowl to her sister. “We are trying to keep to the city’s health codes.”
Keke only smiled.
“I don’t know how you eat that by the way. It’s fine on a cupcake, but straight? All that sugar.”
Keke showed her teeth, knowing they were covered with blue icing. “Straight no cupcake chaser. And easy. I eat it one spoonful at a time. Honestly, Kat, I know you didn’t go to college, but you can at least try and remember basic third grade math,” Keke teased. She caught her sister’s slight frown and ignored it. “Speaking of college”—a strange feeling churned in Keke’s gut, becoming increasingly hard to ignore—“Bertie didn’t finish, which I’ll have to talk to her about.”
“College isn’t for everyone.”
“No, it isn’t.” Keke agreed and then left it at that. Kat never had a desire to go, only to bake. She took a few courses at culinary school, and Keke couldn’t remember if Kat had finished the program or not. Keke didn’t look down her nose at her sister and hoped Kat knew that.
Keke changed the subject. “But the real shock is Petey.”
“Peter Headley? What’s so shocking about him? Oh, wait, he got into Cornell. He’s such a bright guy. I’m really happy for him. His father came in here the other week and said Pete was finally going. I thought for sure he’d turn into one of those ‘failure to launch’ guys. Glad he’s got his act together.”
&nb
sp; Failure to launch? Keke’s eyes went to the ceiling. “No. Have you seen him lately?”
Kat nodded. She placed a tray of donuts into another oven. “Uh-huh. Comes in here weekly. Keeps us going with all the sweets he buys.”
“Then I have no idea how he does it.”
Kat chuckled softly. “Ah, I get it. He’s kind of like you. High metabolism. Great body.”
“A body he didn’t have before. That’s what’s so interesting, Kat. Don’t you have eyes?”
Kat smiled over her shoulder. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it out loud.”
“Um, why?”
Kat shrugged. “He had such a crush on you in school. I thought you might’ve had a little one yourself.”
“What?” Keke shouted. “Are you insane, Kat? I mean, literally…you must be insane.”
Kat held her gaze. “It’s not like you didn’t encourage him a little with all of your teasing.”
Keke felt slightly less dignified sitting on a stool with her hands on her hips. “He’s Bertie’s baby brother. It’s my right—and the law—to tease the younger siblings of your best friend. Especially if they’re the opposite sex and goofy nerds.”
Her raised brows mocked Keke. “Hmm. I think you might like a goofy nerd, if you put your mind to it.” She laughed.
“Hardy, har, har, har. You’re a regular riot.”
“I know.” Kat studied Keke’s face. “So you’re saying you don’t like him?” Her right index finger and thumb nearly touched as she squinted at them. “Not even a little bit?”
“No,” Keke said forcefully—enough to believe it herself. Pete’s face came into view, complete with the sloppy hair he frequently combed over to one side—that made him look like a rock star—and that scruffy, “I’m a lumberjack” beard. He was jacked all right. She shivered as a strange tingling slowly ascended her spine.
She remembered how their hands had gotten stuck in the marshmallow bag the night before. Her skin had goosebumps the moment his large, warm hand covered her arm. She wondered if he had felt them.
“Well, that was a pretty strong no.”
“And I meant it. He’s too young.”
“Eh. He’s nineteen.”
