A La Mode

by A. D. Herrick

  Á La Mode

  A. D. Herrick

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Copyright © 2017 A. D. Herrick

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, events, or locales are coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Love at First Sight

  Is there such a thing as love at first sight?

  I didn't know, until I laid eyes on you.

  How is it possible to feel so much for you?

  My Love has no limits, no color, and no race.

  Is just true love with no lies

  that's when I realized I had fallen in love

  can you tell me if that happened to you?

  By: janet baez

  Chapter One

  Candy

  “I can’t believe I was approved.” I squealed with delight, jumping up and down. The stark white approval letter in my hand crumpled in my firm grip. The rest of my mail lay on the polished marble floors forgotten. I let out another squeal of delight. My voice echoed off the hollow walls back at me. I froze in surprise. I immediately remembered where I was and turned to see if anyone else was in the lobby with me.

  My eyes scanned the lobby with laser focus. The empty white walls stared back at me. I let out a sigh of relief and collapsed against the brass mailboxes that lined the wall. I was so glad no one had to witness my childlike jubilance. It was bad enough I was having a hard time getting anyone to take me seriously as a pastry chef. I didn’t need to give them any ammunition to use against me.

  I smoothed out the wrinkles in the paper in my hand and read it again. My heart was beating in my chest like a staccato drum. The bank had approved me for the loan I was seeking to open a bakery on the south side of town, SoHo which is short for South Hawthorn. South Hampton was a suburb in Miami just to the southwest of the city.

  I had chosen that location because it was quiet and full of small businesses. I loved the home like comforting feeling I got when I went for my evening runs around the local park down there. The neighborhood was full of older houses surrounded by a small shopping district that housed nothing but small local businesses. This was the perfect place for me. I already loved the neighborhood and the people.

  The neighborhood operated like its own little town. There was a small independent theater that put on weekly plays, a small batch craft beer pub, a neighborhood deli that served the best Pastrami sandwiches I had ever eaten and several boutiques that had the most unique clothing and accessories.

  My best friend Tasha said the place felt like it was for trendy hipsters. I have no clue what a trendy hipster is and I honestly didn’t care. All I cared about was the fact that the place felt like home and I was approved for my loan. That was all I had ever wanted.

  My parents were livid when I dropped out of law school to peruse a culinary degree. I only had one semester left before I could take the bar. Instead of spending all of my time and their money on law school, I spent it on a two-year degree in culinary arts, a one-year degree in baking and pastry arts, and nearly a year on a wine and beverage certification. I studied in France, England, and California and did my internship at one of the local restaurants here in Florida.

  I quickly realized that working in a restaurant was not what I wanted. I wanted to be free to create whatever desserts I wanted, whenever I wanted and however I wanted to. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I just wasn’t cut out for the fast-paced world of high-end dining. I preferred low-key and unhurried.

  Tasha had been the one to suggest that I should branch out and try it on my own. At first, I was hesitant about leaving my job at the restaurant. I loved what I did, just not the atmosphere. After months of harping on me to at least give it a try, I did. I spent all of my free time putting together a business plan and applying for loans.

  Thankfully, I had attended premier culinary institutes. My parents would expect nothing less, even if I was throwing my life away, according to them. I had a firm education on business planning and kitchen management, right along with all the pastry and baking skills I needed. The only thing I was lacking was funds.

  After I finished school my parents had decidedly cut me off. They thought that by withholding funds they would be able to force me to go back to law school. Thankfully I was able to get a position at the restaurant I had interned at here in Florida and I didn’t need their money because I was making my own. Granted, my lifestyle had changed drastically, but that is what growing up was about. You get out there, get a degree, and learn a skill or trade and you grow up.

  My saving grace was having Tasha in my corner. Unlike me, Tasha had grown up in a modern middle-class family. There was no push or drive for her to strive to be the best of the best and marry even better. Her family was content for her to live her life however she wanted as long as she didn’t get into any trouble. Tasha was a bartender at one of the hottest dance clubs in Miami called Ice. She was happy and so her family was happy for her.

  Knowing that Tasha would want to hear the great news and celebrate tonight, I gathered the fallen mail on the floor and rushed up the stairs to my apartment on the third floor to call her. She answered on the third ring.

  “You are never going to believe what happened.” I gushed out all at once in excitement.

  “Please tell me you decided to give up the V-card and lay into that hottie you used to work with.” Tasha screeched out excitedly causing me to gasp into the phone.

  “Absolutely not, Brandon and I are playing for the same team, thank you very much. I told you I was saving it for Patton Blake.” My tone was indignant. I could imagine Tasha rolling her eyes at the phone.

  “So what you mean to tell me is that you’re never giving it up?” She sounded exasperated at my constant reminded of the world famous food critic.

  “You’ve seen him on TV Tasha, you know he is dead sexy and has an absolutely wicked mouth.” I reminded her.

  “Yes, Patton is dreamy gorgeous, the way his dark blond hair look like he just rolled out of bed or just finished catching a wave and hanging ten. His eyes are the deepest sensual mixture of amber and whiskey. And his body,” She let out an animalistic growl into the receiver, “He has the body of a Spartan warrior.” I giggled into the phone at her breathy description of my dream man.

  “See, you totally get it.” I beamed agreeing with her thorough description.

  “No, Candy, I don’t get it. Yes, he is absolutely gorgeous. However, need I remind you, he is completely untouchable? At what point do you see the two of you ever crossing paths?” I groaned loudly.

  “Must you always be a buzz kill? Yes, the chances of me meeting him are like a million to one,”

  “Billion to one,” she interrupted.

  “Fine, a billion to one,” I concede. “Does that mean you have to steal away my fantasy?” I whined into the phone pitifully.

  “Yes, when it means you’re not looking for a substitute.” She berated me.

  “Well, I’ll have you know, I haven’t started looking for an obtainable substitute because I will be too busy to date o
r even consider looking at a man. Not even the ever famous and undeniably sexy Patton Blake.” I told her smugly, hoping she would catch the hint.

  Tasha scoffed into the phone.

  “Candice, you quit working down at La Rue, how are you too busy to find a man?” her voice laced with disbelief and annoyance.

  “Well, someone has to get the new shop in order. How else is Batter Splatter going to get off the ground?” I couldn’t hide the excitement in my voice.

  Tasha began to scream and whoop on the other end of the line in excitement. I held the phone out as far as I could as she continued to scream her excitement. When I could no longer hear her high pitched exuberance I pulled the phone back to my ear.

  “Oven Lovin’,”

  “What?” I asked confused. I had missed the first part of what she had said.

  “I said you need to name the place Oven Lovin’.” Her voice laced with excitement. We’ve had this discussion many times, what to name the Shoppe. We never could agree. I know it was my shop but I still wanted and craved the approval of my best friend.

  “NO, that sounds too dirty. What about The Glaze Maze?”

  Tasha scoffed in distaste.

  “You actually want people to come in, don’t you? That name just makes me think of mice. You do not want that to be the first thing people think about. It’s bad for business. How about Buns of steel?” She suggested.

  “Eww, no, that just makes me think of sweaty ass. Born and Bread?” I pitched. I had been thinking of a list of names and that was one of them I liked the best.

  “No, that is disgusting. That sounds like you’re breeding animals. Not at all like a pastry Shoppe. And definitely not like a place I would want to eat at. What about Gluteus minimus?” I pretended to gag on the other end of the line.

  “Again, no, I do not want my sweets to be associated with ass. How about Whisk it for a Biscuit?” I thought the name sounded cute and catchy.

  Tasha gagged into the phone.

  “Do you plan on serving biscuits?” she asked crudely.

  “No,” I blanched. “I said it’s a sweets Shoppe.”

  “Exactly, so why would you include the word Biscuits in the title?” I heard her inhale sharply into the phone.

  She was losing her patience with me and this game. Though, to me, it wasn’t a game. I did need a name and soon. I would be required to provide it when I finished the paperwork needed to pick up my check to open the Shoppe. It was a requirement of the loan. I needed to have my business entity set up within ten days or I would have to reapply all over again.

  “I have no idea. It sounded cute to me.” I defended.

  “Candy, how about We Knead Dough?” I giggled into the phone.

  “Cute, but I’m not sure. It is going on the list, though.” I could hear her smile over the phone at her triumph.

  “Okay, one last one and then you need to decide. How long did they give you?” She asked.

  “Ten days for all of the paperwork and business license and Tax ID to have been filed for and turned into them.”

  I could hear her groan into the phone. I knew exactly how she felt. Heck, I felt it full swing. This was my career on the line. Tasha had promised to come help me and run the Shoppe with me but she had her bartending job to fall back on. I had nothing. I had thrown my ring in the hat and quit my job when I started working on my business plan and started applying for loans. I was currently living off my savings.

  “Okay, last one,” She promised, “Those Buns Dough?” Her voice was perfectly calm and businesslike and caused me to break out into a fit of giggles.

  “Is that a yes?” She asked unsurely.

  “I love it. Do you think it will work?” I asked a bit skeptical of the name.

  Sure it was a bit risqué but it was also funny and to be honest I was tired of fighting with Tasha about this. I had no clue what I wanted to name the place and I was getting to where I didn’t care. I didn’t have much time left to get all of the paperwork finished.

  “I know for a fact it will work. Plus it will fit in with all of the trendy hipsters down in SoHo.” She said matter of fact.

  “I still don’t know why you call them trendy hipsters,” I admitted.

  I sank into the couch and propped up my feet on the arm. I knew I had just opened up Pandora’s Box so I settled in for her long explanation.

  “Trendy hipsters are people that listen to indie music, strive to look like they shopped at the thrift store even though they probably paid a mint and a half for their clothing. Everything has to be vintage and retro for them to be considered cool and they are all about organic, artisan, and local. Which is why you will fit in. You are the little man they identify with that is being kept down by THE MAN. You use natural products and will be making them fresh. You’re not a big box chain. Hell, you probably make everything organic and you love to shop at the farmers market. Oh. My. GAWD. You’re a trendy hipster.” She broke out into a fit of giggles.

  “Shut up,” I bellowed into the phone. “I am not a trendy hipster,” I said adamantly.

  “You’re right. You’re just a hipster. Nothing trendy about you,” She cackled into the phone.

  “Just so you know, you suck,” She laughed even harder.

  “I suck, but you love me anyways.” She said haughtily.

  I groaned in defeat.

  “Yes, I love you. I would totally throw a shoe at you, but I love you.” I shot back sarcastically.

  “Okay, you’re not a hipster. You’re a sexy vixen trapped in a nun’s body.” I growled and hung up on her.

  I closed my eyes and prayed for the strength to not strangle my best friend. I knew she meant well. But sometimes I just wanted to murder her. I had a sneaky suspicion she often felt that way about me too.

  Chapter Two

  Candy

  I hear knocking at the front door several hours later and immediately knew who it was. I pulled myself off the couch taking my time as I walked to the door. I had fallen asleep shortly after talking to Tasha and I still wasn’t ready to be awake. I could hear Tasha on the other side of the door begging me to let her in between knocks. I gave a small smile of satisfaction at the white solid wood door that separated us. I knew it was cruel but I just couldn’t help myself.

  “Who's there?” I called innocently.

  “Open the damn door,” Tasha screamed at the closed door.

  “Who's there?” I added a little confusion to my voice.

  “You know who the hell it is. Now open the damn door.” Tasha’s voice was bordering on anger. I knew I could get one more out of her before she went ballistic.

  “Who is it?” I asked curiously.

  Tasha bead on the door hard repeatedly, with both of her fists as she cursed me.

  “You open this door or I will shove my Jimmy Cho straight up your narrow…”

  I yanked the door open and plastered on a bright cheery innocent smile.

  “Oh hey, Tasha. I didn’t know it was you.” I gave her a bright toothy smile as she shoved me aside to get in.

  “You are such a brat.” I laughed and wrapped her in a tight embrace, pinning her arms to her side.

  “But I thought you loved me.” I reminded her loosening my grip on her.

  She gave me a quick hug back muttering under her breath.

  I pulled away and quickly shut the door.

  “Why are you all dolled up?” I asked taking in her attire.

  Tasha was wearing a sexy black grenadine hollowed-out backless halterneck bodycon Mini Dress that laced down the side slits. The slits started at her naval and went down the dress, following the curve of her hips to the hem that landed at the top of her thighs.

  The top had a large keyhole cut that dipped down exposing nearly half her breast into a deep V just above her belly button. A thin piece of material came around her neck and tied at the back. I was sure it was more for looks than actual support. The long sleeves were made of a thin sheer material that covered her arms, down to her
wrist.

  The dress maximized all of her curves. Tasha had one of those Kardashian booties, voluptuous breast, and a narrow waist. To top it all off she had mile-long legs that appeared to go on for days.

  True to her word, she was wearing a pair of black Jimmy Chu’s. Her long black hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun that I was sure had taken hours to construct. She kept her makeup natural with the exception of thick black eyeliner and mascara which highlighted her jade green eyes. She topped her lips with a soft pink gloss.

  “We, my love are going out to celebrate.” She wagged her eyebrows at me suggestively.

  I slowly backed away shaking my head.

  “Oh no,” I pleaded.

  I backed up until my back hit the door. Tasha pursed her lips together in a cocky smirk.

  “Oh yes, it’s time we celebrate and get you out of this shell.” Tasha had always been an outgoing social butterfly.

  Tasha was a positive, outgoing, warm hearted, popular social person. She hates being alone or cooped up. Whereas I have always been the opposite, I have always been a quiet, private, timid introvert.

  It wasn’t like I wanted to be this way. I had always envied Tasha. Her parents allowed her to explore herself and figure out who she was. I always felt like I had to hide who I was and who I wanted to be.

  Tasha always reminded me that I wasn’t under my parent's thumb anymore and that it was okay to be who I am and to enjoy it. That is one of the many reasons why I loved her.

  “I have nothing to wear,” I whined.

  Tasha tsked and wagged her finger at me disapprovingly.

  “Go get that sweet ass in the shower and I will find you something to wear.” I rolled my eyes but complied.

  “Nothing too sexy,” I called back to her as I walked toward the bathroom.

  The look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know. She was in charge and I was in deep trouble.

  When I got out of the shower I saw the dress in Tasha’s hands. I remembered that dress well. She had talked me into buying it one night when we were in Paris on vacation. I had never gotten the chance to wear it and it looked like tonight I would.