Cupcake Queens

by Darlene Everly

  She was like Samantha and Olivia—someone who knew exactly what they wanted out of life. They were also the kind of people who didn’t just know what they wanted. They were going after it. Active in pursuit of their dreams.

  I, on the other hand, was going through the motions.

  The moment in my hospital room with Sam ran through my head, the moment when she said she couldn’t be with someone who washed out, someone who didn’t have direction and had no idea what they were going to do.

  Dropping my head back against the headrest and swinging my legs into the truck, I lamented my choices. All these amazing girls, I couldn’t help but be attracted to them for their passion and their drive.

  Meanwhile, I was no longer one of them, and I couldn’t imagine any relationship with someone like them would end any differently for me than my relationship with Sam had ended.

  First, I pushed Olivia away because she was too much for me, and I thought I would be going away to college for cheer while she would never leave Seattle or her family’s restaurant.

  Then, I went and trashed my knee and lost Sam in the process too.

  Now what?

  Continue to get to know Ceecee and risk falling for her before I knew what I wanted out of my life and what, if anything, I could offer her?

  I shut the door and started the truck. Making my way out of the parking spot and out of the Pike Place area, I headed toward the shop and the first of what I was increasingly coming to believe would be a series of mistakes.

  Because no matter how hard I tried to talk myself out of it, I wanted to help Ceecee.

  Maybe if I helped her keep her dream, I would be putting out good vibes that would oddly let me find my own dream.

  Ceecee

  “She’s cute,” Marcus said, wiggling his eyebrows at me as he handed me a coffee.

  I rolled my eyes and took a sip, the heat and sugar managing to give me just enough of a boost to delusionally believe I could make it through the rest of the day.

  “Come on. Work with me here. I know you noticed.” His voice was thick with innuendo, and I wanted to smack him for it as warmth spread up my face.

  “Yeah, well, she’s not exactly my type,” I said.

  He snorted.

  “Shut up, you. How would you even know. You think girls are yucky.” I shook my head as he grinned over his cup at me. “Besides, I have too much to do around here to think about dating. Let alone think about dating a girl like her.”

  “Girl like her…” He narrowed his eyes at me and then shook his head. “Nope. I’m going to start with the first point you think you made and work my way up to that one.”

  I walked away from him to restock the bags.

  Please, someone, anyone, come in and save me.

  “For me, yes, girls are yucky. Beyond the ones I love completely.” He stuck his nose in the air and I couldn’t help but smile.

  Being one of those that he loved completely was one of the highlights of my life.

  “However,” he said.

  Oh, now he was going to remind me why that complete love was also a royal pain in the butt.

  “I am not blind, Ceecee. I am gay. There is a difference. And even a blind person would be able to see that Theresa is super hot.” He fanned himself with a hand and it was everything I could do to avoid rewarding his ridiculous behavior with a laugh.

  “And you know it. You also know that it is not healthy to limit your entire life to this place and me. While I am great company, and our love is beyond whatever may come from a girlfriend for you and boyfriend for me, we are sadly lacking the very nature the other most desires.”

  Standing up and turning to look at him, I lost it. My laugh was loud and long, made more so by the utter lack of shame on his face.

  “Don’t pretend to be innocent now, Marcus.” I rolled my eyes and wiped under them, hoping the giggle tears leaking out wouldn’t leave me with mascara runs to match my already botched eyebrows.

  “Fine.” He waved a hand at me, his face breaking into a smile. “But I made my point. You need to let yourself have a chance. Go on a date. Do it for me, because we both know I will perpetually hide behind my love for you to avoid putting myself out there.”

  I made my way to him, leaned my head on his shoulder, and looked out the windows at the rain sheeting down outside.

  He wrapped an arm around my back and leaned his head on mine.

  I knew the real reason why he was closed off to romance. I was there for the entire thing, including the desperate search and the days he spent drowning in tears.

  “But she’s…way out of my league.” I whispered.

  Marcus stiffened next to me and pulled his head off mine.

  It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see him, I felt his eyes boring holes into the top of my head.

  “Ceecee.” His voice was missing all the playfulness it usually held.

  He was mad so rarely, that I couldn’t help but look up at him.

  “Don’t you ever say that again. You are amazing. And beautiful. Even when you screw up your makeup. Stop it.”

  While I didn’t believe him, I nodded anyway.

  “Okay, so now that we’ve gone through your valley of nuttiness, are you going to ask this girl out or do I have to do it for you?”

  And I was laughing again.

  “Like my own Cyrano de Bergerac?”

  “Eeek, no.” He shook his head and looked like I just held a slug under his nose.

  I laughed as the chime above the door sounded and a whoosh of cold air and dampness flowed into the bakery.

  Marcus turned to help the customer and I made my way to the kitchen, tucking my coffee on the shelf by the door after another sip to strengthen me.

  Standing on the threshold of the kitchen, staring down the utter disaster it had become, there wasn’t enough coffee in the world to stave off the deep urge rising within me to cry and beg for my mom.

  But, with a sniff, I resisted the flood of need, grabbed another tray, and headed back out to the front to reload the cases.

  The customer was already walking out, a large box in one arm.

  “You were fast with that one,” I said, loading up one of the cases.

  “It was cookies and cash. It only takes a minute. She comes in all the time for a box of cookies for her work and got some for home this time. But she knows exactly how much they cost.” Marcus grabbed his coffee and perched himself on one of the tall stools along the wall behind the counter.

  “Or, instead of sitting there, you could maybe help me restock?” I muttered at the tray in my hand, adjusting my hold in the automatic way I always did as I emptied it into the case that was only half in need of the buns that I loaded it with.

  “Or you could just wait until we actually need to slide out a whole empty tray and can just slide in a full one,” he said, his voice the same tone as mine, but a whole lot louder.

  “Mom always said that if you wait to sell the last roll, it will end up on your dinner plate.” I smiled to myself and sniffed again. For some reason, that small memory of my mom tickled the back of my eyes, threatening me with tears I didn’t want to shed anymore. At least not today.

  “Ceecee,” he said from behind me, his voice soft and all the joviality leeched out of it, “You need a break. Let me do that. And why don’t you spend some time in the kitchen or the office or something.”

  I shook my head, straightening with my now half-empty tray.

  “Work helps,” I said, and I turned away from him to head to the kitchen. But I saw it on his face.

  He knew that was lie.

  Maybe work used to help.

  Actually, it wasn’t a maybe. It did help in the direct aftermath of losing Mom. But now, work was the source of all the stress. And it didn’t matter.

  Because whether it helped or not, it was all I had.

  The tray went back to its place, and I made my way through all the coolers to check that the ice wasn’t melting too fast before I got eve
rything loaded back into the fridge.

  Of course, all of it was melting.

  Really, there was no other option.

  “Please help, Theresa,” I said to the empty room.

  She was pretty much my only hope to fix this whole mess.

  Theresa

  “Damn it, Seattle,” I grumbled, stepping carefully along the cobblestones on Pike Place.

  I loved my city, but the parking down here was a disaster. The stupid construction made it so much worse.

  The hike down the hill with my bags of stuff made me question my own commitment to this ridiculous mission to save the bakery.

  But Olivia was probably spreading the word among our friends, and they might kill me if I was part of the reason that they couldn’t get their cinnamon rolls.

  Damn it.

  My knee was going to be pissed off at me by the end of the day for sure.

  If I didn’t get this project done today, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get back down this hill again tomorrow.

  I ran through all the possible ways I could pack the truck so I wouldn’t have to fight for parking space and could get here in the ridiculous early morning hours again.

  Checklists. That was the only answer. Checklists of stuff that I could shove into every toolbox in the truck for any eventuality was the only way to park in the morning and not have to move again.

  Even with that, the prospect of going back and forth all day hauling stuff was exhausting just to think about.

  And I hated checklists.

  Of all the things I missed about college, checklists weren’t among them.

  I could keep the myriad things I needed to do for work straight in my head without them. But for some reason, I never could keep straight the schedules of all my assignments and classes while I was in school.

  Despite the rain, people poured past me with their hoods up and their faces pointed down at the ground, picking their way carefully through the puddles in the grayness.

  The lone umbrella in the crowd had a couple huddled underneath it. They looked lost, their heads turning from side to side and pointing in opposite directions.

  Even if the umbrella wasn’t the biggest tell, their confusion marked them as tourists.

  I sighed.

  Most likely I was about to get even more soaked and be waylaid for longer than I wanted while my knee screamed. My arms started to ache from the weight of my bags. But I couldn’t let them remain lost.

  Like most cities, mine could be difficult to navigate once someone was lost. Especially since they were likely to confuse Pike and Pine or the streets that repeated north and south. Not to mention the one-ways. No one enjoyed getting turned around by one of those.

  “Hey, do you need directions? You look a little lost,” I said, coming up to their side.

  Did they answer? No. But they twirled to face me, sending a spray of water flinging off the umbrella’s edge directly into my face.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” one of them said as I blinked the water out of my eyes and adjusted the bags to reach up and wipe my face.

  “No big deal. Can I help you find something?” I asked, trying to keep a friendly tone in my voice even though I think I only managed to stay neutral. Better than coming off as a grumpy Seattleite like we were usually painted.

  “That would be so great. You know the area?”

  It was everything I could do not to say something snarky. I was in the pouring rain, loaded with bags of tools and parts, my tool belt weighing down my waist, my work clothes on, and a knee brace.

  What, exactly, about any of that made it seem like I was on a touristy walkabout of the city?

  “Yeah, lived here all my life,” I said, instead of asking if they lost their brain when they lost their way.

  “Oh, you are a life saver. Do you know where The Bake Place is? We are supposed to be meeting someone there.”

  I almost laughed out loud, but just nodded and smiled.

  They did a collective little jig and juggle of their umbrella, managing to slosh me with water again as I took off in the direction we needed to go.

  “So, where are you from?” I asked, ducking my head down again, even though any semblance of makeup and level of put together had to be totally gone by then.

  “Maybe we’re from Tacoma,” one of them said, their voice jovial.

  First, they just named the only other city in Washington many people knew of. Second, no one from this state carried an umbrella even if they didn’t know Seattle itself. Third, chances were a Washingtonian who was lost in downtown would have asked that question with ‘East of the mountains’ as their example.

  I shook my head and smiled.

  “Just a feeling,” I said.

  “We’re from Arizona, outside of Phoenix in Scottsdale.”

  “You went the wrong direction, didn’t you?” I asked, while they looked even more confused. “Don’t you sunbirds usually come here in the summer?”

  “Usually,” one of them laughed, their giggle high and a little too tight. “But we have some business opportunities to handle that couldn’t be done over the phone.”

  People were often a little tight-lipped about business opportunities, but these two were being even cagier than most people I knew. And I knew a bunch of foodies who guarded their foodie secrets with their fangs out first.

  “Oh, so you’re international spies. Good to know. I’ll watch myself.”

  Cutting my eyes sideways at them, I watched as it took a moment for them to realize I was kidding.

  When they did, they decided I was hilarious, laughing wildly.

  In the process, they dumped the rain off their umbrella all over me.

  So, all in all, it was decidedly not worth the joke.

  But it was either that or they were in porn. I was going with porn. Katie would love this story, while Deacon would want to hide under a table at the mention of the word.

  The Bake Place’s sign finally peeked at me through the downpour, and I hitched the bag more securely up my shoulder.

  A car had somehow made its way through the construction and didn’t seem to realize they were blocking the narrow lane by parking in what was actually the middle of the road.

  Pike Place was a confusing mix of walking open market and narrow street, sure, but this person really needed someone to explain how it all worked before they got towed.

  My companions got excited and got ahead of me when they spotted the sign.

  At least I wouldn’t have to juggle my bags to open the door.

  I had to appreciate the small benefits of a good deed.

  Even if it was performed in service to international spies who really needed Google Maps.

  Ceecee

  Today wasn’t going to end up being a bad sales day. That was a big win.

  It didn’t stop me from running the figures through my head, and trying to figure out if I was going to have enough money to cover the cost of paying Theresa for the repairs.

  Not surprisingly, it wasn’t. But knowing that didn’t stop me from trying to dream up ways I could make it become a trend large enough to offset the months of construction-caused downturn in profits.

  Lost in my daydreams, I missed the chime above the door while my back was turned so I could straighten the takeout boxes.

  “Sir, good afternoon,” Marcus said, his voice louder than was necessary, the muscles in my whole body tightening in response.

  Who would he call ‘sir?’

  I turned around with a wide smile plastered on my face. My heart dropped out of my body and ran to hide among the mess in the kitchen. The hello I meant to say lodged in my throat.

  “Ceecee,” Mr. McCarthy said, giving barely a nod to Marcus. He narrowed his eyes at me, making them look like upside down triangles.

  My landlord looked soft, rounded at the edges with a weak chin and the beginnings of jowls. But I knew better than to believe his looks.

  “Hi, Mr. McCarthy, what brings you in today?” I s
poke too fast and took a deep breath, reminding myself to slow down. I couldn’t afford to give the man any excuses to stay any longer than absolutely necessary.

  “Well, Ceecee, I was wondering if you heard about what was happening upstairs.” He leaned down and perused the things in the cases, pretending that he didn’t just hand me a live grenade with the pin pulled.

  “No, I haven’t heard much, we’ve been busy this morning.” That should help my case…pretend it wasn’t something I found out already. “Is it something I should know about for business? You remodeling?”

  He laughed. He actually laughed at that. Like the idea of ever willingly improving anything about the building was so absurd it was comical.

  This man…But instead of saying anything, I ground my teeth and kept the smile on my face.

  Pretending to know nothing was always the best strategy when it came to him.

  “Actually, some of the neighbors are changing upstairs.” He glanced up at me, looking for it to register on my face, I was sure.

  So I feigned shock.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I like the neighbors. They are good people.” The neighbors he was running out of the homes they had been in forever and whose names he probably had to check before he called them to tell them.

  “Yes, well, rents are going up all over the city, and once the construction here is done, this area will get a big boost.”

  No one could say that for sure. It’s what businesses all around me hoped for, but none of us were blessed with clairvoyance. Neither was Mr. McCarthy.

  But greed made people guess at all kinds of things. Besides, he didn’t want my opinion on what he expected or on rents.

  He definitely didn’t want my opinion on rent.

  “Do you have people already lined up, then?”

  There, that was probably neutral enough.

  “Can I have one of these?” he asked, artfully dodging my question.

  “Of course,” I said, grabbing a bag while the chime above the door sounded. I turned around in time to see Theresa walk in with two other people who struggled to manage their umbrella.