by Katy Kaylee
Gwen
“You’re fucking disgusting-!” My eyelid twitched in white-hot rage at the venomous, shrill declaration, and I climbed off Ryan. I didn’t even bother looking at my dad as he stood, his wrinkles getting deeper by the second. Fire licked up my neck and engulfed my heart, and my legs throbbed as I stalked across the kitchen. “You’re such a nasty fucking b-“
The slap I delivered to Thomas’ face struck the kitchen like lightning, and the back of my hand ached as he stumbled back with a cry. Falling onto his ass, he clutched his nose as blood dribbled down his lip, and the print of my knuckles became clear almost instantly. Standing over him, I held myself tall and proud, covering my bump with my hands as my baby writhed in response to my anger.
“I’m tired of you acting like the mistakes I made give you the right to judge me so poorly.” My tone was deathly calm, and I could’ve sworn I saw my own breath as the atmosphere became frigid. Wide, brown eyes met mine, and Thomas scooted back and away a little. “Do you want to know what I regret most, Thomas? Hoping we could try to repair a little of our relationship. I went to San Francisco to get beat on, sexually assaulted, cheated on- all while maintain a job and a home and school- and you call me disgusting? For having sex with Ryan? Who’s really the disgusting one? Which one of us is the deplorable human being that is so self-absorbed and bigoted that you can’t even see how happy your best friend is when it’s right in front of your face?”
“Which one of us turned down the job opportunity of a lifetime because it meant being in the same state as me? Which one of us drove away your best friend because someone you didn’t like came back home? Which one of us couldn’t even have a normal conversation because you’re so full of hate and bitterness and self-pity that no one wants to talk to you? Which one of us is really the disgusting, nasty bitch, huh?” Paling with each rhetorical question that rolled off my tongue, Thomas’s eyes glistened, but I had no more to give him. “The answers are all the same… it’s you, Thomas. You think that because I didn’t give you attention when you were younger, that no one did. You focus so much on what I didn’t give you that you don’t acknowledge that Dad would spend hours with you studying from all those books. You don’t acknowledge that Mom worked her ass off doing overtime to send you to computer camp.”
“Even when you were little, I never wanted to spend time with you, and it’s about time you know why. Because, even when you were 3 and 4 and 5 years old, I knew that you were going to be a spoiled fucking douchebag.” Bitterness and sadness warred in my tone, and Thomas flinched at my slur as I licked my lips and took a breath. Those memories played in my mind’s eye, and I shook my head furiously. “Everything had to be about you- when it wasn’t, you’d throw a fit. It wasn’t because Mom raised you as the baby, it was because you were inherently a little shit that had to be the center of attention. If I caved and gave you what you wanted, you’d expect it all the time, and I didn’t have time to deal with you. So- be mad. Be betrayed. Be bitter. I honestly couldn’t give a lesser fuck about what you think you know.”
“What are you gunna do, now, Thomas? Are you gunna sulk and get sloshed? Are you not gunna call out of work because you’re so miserable that you can’t be bothered to pick up the phone, so they’re going to fire you? Are you gunna blame that on me, too? Are you going to go try to find someone to vent to, but blame me because all your friends are tired of listening to your shit? Are you gunna think that I turned your friends against you because they tell you you’re wrong, and you just want them to nod and agree with you to make you feel self-righteous? Well? Well- what are you gunna do?” I knew that that was exactly what Thomas was going to do; he was a creature of habit, especially when it came to being told he was wrong. Stepping forward to loom over him, I held my bump more firmly, and fear flickered through his eyes. “Get the fuck out of my house, Thomas, and don’t come back until you have a change of attitude.”
Scrambling to his feet, Thomas clutched his face, and his tears started to fall before he managed to turn away from me fully. My hardened heart didn’t squeeze, and I felt no guilt at all as I watched him rush out of my house. He left the front door wide open, and I didn’t bother to close it as the warm, late Spring breeze surged through the living room.
“What are you doing here, Dad?” I hadn’t talked to my father in the two weeks since that weekend, and I glanced over to find him completely guilt-ridden. At the very least, he was genuine and transparent about it, and a terrible kind of sadness dragged down his already sagging features.
“A friend of mine was dying- a very good friend. It was my last opportunity to talk to him. I’ve been meaning to apologize, but I wanted to do it in person… You’re so busy- I never knew what was a good time to talk to you.” My dad’s voice broke at his confession about his friend, and I exhaled slowly to steady my trembling body. The anger that had consumed me flushed out my nostrils, and I rolled my shoulders and head before nodding.
Suddenly, everything made a little bit more sense- my dad didn’t know how to text, which is supposedly how Thomas learned he wasn’t going to show.
“I’m making ribs- do you want some?” Jerking his head in a nod, my dad shuffled into the kitchen, and I whipped around to catch Ryan’s dark, stormy gaze. “Let’s eat in the back yard. Can you go open the umbrella and stuff?”
“Of course, baby.” My lip twitched in a strained smile, and I turned off the slow-cooker to gingerly pop the top. Steam billowed from inside, and my dad peeked over my shoulder as his grabbed the back of my neck to squeeze reassuringly. His gnarled, work-hardened palm rubbed above the neckline of my shirt, and I leaned back to close my eyes and heave a massive sigh.
“At least, now, I don’t have to worry about you being a single mom.” Smiling a little wider at the mumble, the hairs on my face stood up when my dad kissed my cheek. “Ryan’s a good man, Gwen.”
“I know. Do you think I went too far with Thomas?” When I reached above the toaster for plates, my dad gripped my wrists, and I side-stepped wordlessly out of the way. Despite my question, I wasn’t worried; I wasn’t anything, because it was about time Thomas got a dose of the real world.
In the real world, no one cares about anyone else, and I knew that first hand.
“Honestly, I don’t think you went far enough, but that’s just me. I’m old, sweetheart- too old to be trying to change him when he clearly doesn’t feel like he needs to change. If he doesn’t want it, there’s no use in my trying. I hope, though, that you managed to get him to see that he needs to grow up, or everyone is going to move on without him.” Handing me four plates, my dad backed up as I set them on the cold stove, and I rifled in a drawer for tongs as he continued. “I never realized how bad it was for you, Gwen, and I apologize for that.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Dad. All that is in the past, and I’m okay- I’m a workaholic, but I’m okay. Ryan’s okay. Our baby’s okay. Everything is okay. Besides… It could’ve been worse. I could’ve thought that I loved Craig, or he could’ve tried harder to manipulate me. At the very least, I married him because I hated myself, not because I loved him. I always knew that.” A small, pitiful smile crested my cheeks, and my Dad didn’t have a verbal response to my confession. I don’t think I’d ever had such a lengthy conversation with him since returning home, and I transferred the ribs carefully, one by one, with a warmth blossoming in my chest.
Gwen
Covering my mouth to hide my frown, I propped my elbow on the table to bite back a frustrated shriek. Long, strong fingers stroked my back in wide ovals, and Ryan stretched out in his chair while I lost myself in thought.
I understood the concept of star-struck, but this was pathetic. No one could give me a good enough answer, and everything was generic in the first place.
“I just want one person that can tell me something I haven’t heard yet… is that so wrong?” Culinary students were the worst, but baking students were worse still. There was no exceptionality to anyone; if a person had e
nough time, he or she could ice a cake like a professional. That wasn’t the issue, here, and I slumped back before snatching the resume of the woman that’d just left. “That’s a no- who’s next…”
“Can you go get this Kayla girl while I mentally prepare myself, please?” Ryan chuckled before standing up, and I was- yet again- reminded of how lucky I was to have him. If he wasn’t there to tether me, I would’ve gone nuts by now. Trying to find bakers for my place was harder than I’d anticipated, and my hopes to have started training already had been dashed.
Plastering a smile on my face, I stood up when the door to the interview room opened, and I cradled my belly with a hard breath. The woman that sauntered behind Ryan wore her uniform, just like all the others, but her hair was bright green, and her ears were draped in at least 10 rings each. The tattoos scrawled up her neck grabbed my attention, and she smiled brightly as she reached to shake my free hand.
“Have a seat- please, I insist.” My brows rose at that, and I sat down before Kayla took the chair on the other side of the table. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, ma’am.”
Ma’am? When I wanted to hear something I hadn’t heard before, it definitely wasn’t that. Kayla’s eyes sparkled brightly, a duller brown than my own, and she clasped her hands in her lap to watch me expectantly. By far, she gave me the best first impression, and I mulled over how best to proceed as Ryan sat beside me. She didn’t even glance at him, but I had no doubt that she recognized him.
Which was good, because that meant she understood the importance of keeping her cool in front of high-society.
“So, what can you tell me that’s not in your resume?” The deliberately vague question earned me a small silence, and I narrowed my gaze on Kayla. A budding hope clung to my ribs that, maybe, she’d give me something; her resume wasn’t all that unique, but she’d applied, so I would interview her. She seemed smart, definitely, and her poker face was very good; if my inquiry caught her off guard, it didn’t show.
“I don’t have the whole spiel about watching my mom bake and falling in love with it and blah- blah- blah-“ Surprise rose my brows high at Kayla’s answer, and she shrugged absently with a slight scrunch of her pixie face. “I actually hate cooking. I suck ass at boiling pasta water, but I can frost a cake better than you, I bet.”
“… Can you bake the cake?” Asking the question for me as I struggled to contain my laughter, Ryan rocked back in his chair to prop his head in his hands. “That’s kind of important, you know.”
“Yeah. I can if I have the recipe. I only came here because my dad thought it’d be a good opportunity- and whaddya know- he was right. I’m not gunna lie- I really am not the best at doing things myself. I actually teamed up with this dude that’s really good at baking- he’s won a few awards like you did, ma’am. He graduated on two semesters ago, though. My grades took a tank, let me tell you- but, anyway- he’s out there waiting for an interview, too.”
“If you beat me in a contest, I’ll hire the both of you.” I liked this girl! She didn’t hide her faults but exploited them, and she was completely honest about her ability. Pushing myself up, I clapped my hands as thrill surged through my veins. “Let’s go. And bring your partner.”
“What? Wait- like, a… an aesthetic contest?” Nodding at Ryan’s slight sputtering, I shuffled out from behind the desk as Kayla stood up smoothly. “You’re going to hire them just like that?”
“No- he’ll make the cakes, we’ll decorate them, and we’ll have some judges. It’ll only take an hour- tops. It’ll be fine. I’m a celebrity here. I can do what I want.” My flippant dismissal earned me a feminine giggle, and I grinned broadly at Ryan’s skeptic gaze. “It’ll be fine. This is the most interesting thing that’s happened at any of the interviews. I mean- seriously, who has the balls to tell me to my face that they can decorate better than me? Out of everyone we’ve interviewed the past few weeks, who even strung a sentence together without stuttering?”
“… You have a point, I guess.” Excitement surged through me when we left the classroom and entered the kitchen, and I clapped my hands together before cracking my knuckles. A dozen pairs of eyes centered on me, and I glanced around at all of the attendees gathered around the prep tables.
“I want everyone to make me two 6 inch cakes! Let’s go- let’s go! Let’s go!” Clapping my hands, I weeded out everyone that didn’t jump at my demand- which immediately degraded my opinion of, like, half of them. I didn’t know who Kayla’s partner was, but I had a feeling it was the tall, broad, African American guy that full-on sprinted towards the pantry. Turning to Kayla, I leaned on a prep table to cross my arms over my chest, but her confidence in her partner was iron strong.
“So… what’s your plan, exactly?” Sidling up next to me, Ryan wrapped his arm around my waist, and I gazed out at the frantic activity. Secretly, I hoped this kitchen was well-stocked, but if not- oh well. Those that were too slow to react couldn’t work for me. Simple. After all, there’s nothing wrong with making this up as I go.
“It’s a road test. I’m going to observe, but we’ll ice all the cakes a different color, and we’ll have a couple instructors or something eat them and score them. One score for the icing, and another for the cake itself. Whoever gets the higher score wins.”
“Are you sure you want to work for a dictator?” Directing the question at Kayla, Ryan smirked broadly, and I twisted to watch her shrug. Maybe, she just didn’t really care about status so much, and that’s how she kept her cool.
“I’m a trust fund baby- I don’t want to work at all. I figured that if I was going to work, it should be something I enjoy doing. I couldn’t be a Bohemian artist, so cake decorating was the next best thing. I like it- it’s a lot like therapy for me.” Reaching my fist out in solidarity, I found myself warming more and more to her candid honesty. “Anyway- there’s nothing to do for the next 45 minutes, so I’m gunna go find some teachers. I’ll be back.”
Striding off towards the door, Kayla didn’t even make sure it was closed before whooping and hollering, and I rested my head on Ryan’s shoulder to smile.
“She’s cool- I like her.” Ryan grunted at my declaration, and I inhaled sharply before putting my game face on. “Part of this is also to determine who I can use as assistants. If all goes well, those two have worked together for years- they can handle everything with a good set of assistants.”
“You’re evil. I’m glad I’m your boyfriend, not your employee.” Dropping a kiss on my head, Ryan grinned into my hair, and he rubbed my side as my own smile widened. “And to think- you were expecting to have the worst day imaginable, and now, you’re in a cake decorating contest to determine the fame and fortune of two people.”
“I mean, having the bakery is different than the restaurant, Ryan. The menu won’t be comprised mostly of what I want that the chefs can recreate easily. It’ll be a few items of mine that I won’t let be left out, but it’ll mostly be sweets that cater to the strengths of the people baking them. That’s something I learned was super important with my last place- with baking, you can’t just tell them to read from a card. You can tell from the taste whether or not the person baking it was passionate- I know how that sounds, but it’s the truth.”
“I believe you, baby. It’s just amazing to me that you can do this on the fly like this. When you look back on coming in here, dreading these interviews, and now… it’s like- damn. It went from 0 to 100 real quick.” Scanning the dozen people scurrying furiously and working even harder, I exhaled slowly. A couple of people managed to keep their composure, which was nice, and I memorized their faces. “You’re really impressive, you know that?”
“I do- you make it hard to forget.” Giggling as Ryan bumped my hip with his, I rubbed my bump absently. “I have a good feeling about this.”
Ryan
“That one didn’t put in enough sugar.” Grumbling in agreement, I really wasn’t sure how much more cake I could stuff down my throat. For the first time in
my life, I sympathized with cooking show judges in how little they ate off a plate. There were murmurs of agreement by two other instructors, and I glanced over the two competitors left.
Gwen had been utterly delighted when Kayla kicked her ass at cake decorating. The younger woman was faster, had a steadier hand, and ‘unique style’… whatever that meant. It all looked exactly the same to me, but that was why Gwen wanted me around. I was a simple person, with simple attention, and I wasn’t trained to spot the most minute mistakes.
“I think this one was the only one that didn’t taste off in some way.” Pointing under the scrutiny of a dozen hopeful applicants, Gwen smirked a little as I gazed at the beautiful, perfect cake. The cake itself was chocolate, with strawberry icing, and she nodded to herself even though I knew she’d made the decision before even leaving the interview room.
“So, you’re going to hire Kayla and Brandon- what about the assistants?” My question drew a thoughtful expression on Gwen’s face, and she cocked her head. She was so damn beautiful when she was doing what she did best, and I rubbed the small of her back gingerly.
“I think these four should be fine.” Pulling the iced cakes, all different colors and shades, in front of the others, Gwen nodded to herself before addressing the crowd. “Congratulations to you four- you’ve got a job.”
Cheers and groaned of failure mingled in the air, and I heaved a sigh of relief. I never thought I’d get sick of cake, but it’d happened; I couldn’t help but feel like I could sleep for a week. There was no way I could skip out on the gym this week, either. Biting back a groan, I rocked back on my heels as I pulled out my cell phone.
Thomas hadn’t called or texted me since his blowout with Gwen, and I hoped that he wasn’t hiding in a vat of alcohol all this time. My worry for him only went so far, though, because he brought this on himself. He didn’t listen to me when I tried gently, so Gwen did it forcefully.
