by Nia Arthurs
“Go ahead.” I shrug. If this prick could get me out of this mess, I’d be grateful.
His eyes narrow. “There’s something fishy about you.”
“You sure you’re not smelling yourself there, buddy?” I lean my hip against the counter.
“I asked around the office and nobody knew who you were. The position of branch manager had been filled even before the post was announced at HQ.” His eyes narrow. “Who did you say sent you to this branch?”
“Someone you don’t want to mess with.”
Unease flickers in his eyes, but he lifts his chin instead. “I didn’t come to fight, newbie. We need to talk about the bakery.” He gestures to the back, crooking a finger at me. “Unless you want to have this conversation in front of the customers?”
I glance around and then nod. “Let’s go.”
We move to the office.
The moment I lock the door, I turn to Vulture. “What is this about?”
“The finances.” He rubs his hands together. “You’re aware the store is just barely covering expenses right now. There’s not enough to pay the staff and yet you’ve extended their hours.”
“We need them here.”
“We need to save money.” He lifts a hand and studies his stubby fingers. “This place is going down fast. We can’t afford to overextend.”
I give him a confident look. “Our profit margins are up already.”
“Not enough to break even.”
“We’ll be at profit by the end of the month.” I’m talking out of my butt crack. Thirty days is not enough time to fix a leaking pipe in this place, much less turn things around completely, but I’m not letting this twat onto my concerns.
He bursts out laughing. “Oh yeah?”
“Business for every bakery usually picks up around this time of year, and we’ve already implemented some new marketing ideas—”
“It’ll never work.”
“Maybe under your direction.”
His face gets red. “You must think this is your chance to climb the corporate ladder, newbie, but I’ve seen enough punks like you to know that you won’t stick around when things get hard. I’ll enjoy watching you fail.”
“Consider your point taken.” I jut my chin at the door. “Now that you’ve said what you needed to, there’s no reason for you to be here.”
His eyes bulge. “Don’t tell me when to leave!”
I just laugh. Guys like Vulture get off on power trips. They exhort control by picking on the people who can’t fight back and, frankly, that pisses me off so much I’d throw him out myself.
“Your arrogance is going to cost you, boy.” Vulture lifts a crooked finger and shakes it in my direction. “Whoever you think has your back isn’t as powerful as me.”
I smirk. “I doubt it.”
“I’m going to delight in ruining you, newbie.” Eyes dark with the threat, he lowers his voice, “Mark my words, I’m going to expose you and every one of your dirty secrets until you wouldn’t dare to lift your head again.”
The muscles in my jaw tense when I remember Gran’s insistence that no one finds out who I truly am.
Right now, he’s just blowing hot air, but if Vulture really gets his hands on my identity, we’re going to have a problem.
8
Clark
Maxine’s pregnant.
Levonte’s words roll around in my ear like a merry-go-round from hell. I dig my fingers into my coat and stare at the old building in front of me.
Anyone hurrying by would trot right past this thing.
Some would probably even call it an eyesore.
But when I look at this building, I don’t see a broken-down hull. I see a fresh splash of paint on the exterior. An eye-catching color. Maybe orange or bright blue. Something festive and joyful that could catch the attention of a spaceship on Mars.
I see big glass windows and golden lights. Colorful paintings on the walls, something local and inspirational.
I see customers flooding the place, smiles on every face as they enjoy the cakes that I’ve crafted with all my heart.
I see my future.
But that’s only a vision.
A dream.
Because, in reality, this place is a deteriorating old building.
An eyesore.
Nothing.
I huff out a breath and it frosts the air.
Maxine’s pregnant.
I’m torn between shrieking my lungs out and curling into a ball of helpless tears. No wonder Maxine’s been throwing up early in the morning. No wonder she kept insisting that it wasn’t a stomach bug even when I bought her medicine.
She knew she was carrying Levonte’s baby and she didn’t tell me.
It’s been almost two weeks since I found out. I kept the secret to myself, desperately hoping my sister would tell me the truth.
She hasn’t.
Her deceit is an anchor on my heart. Even staring at my future bakery—a sight that usually brings me peace—doesn’t help.
I lift my phone and stare at the screen.
My background is a picture of me, Maxine and my nieces. We’re on a picnic in the park. An open whicker basket. Checkered cloth. Pastel Sunday dresses.
Sunshine glitters on dark faces and beams from ear-to-ear smiles. My sister has one hand slung over my shoulder, her forehead tilted toward mine.
We’ve always been close.
The only time our relationship suffered was when she started running after Levonte. I could smell his no-good intentions from a mile away, but my sister was too blinded by love to heed the warning.
Their tumultuous love story brought her pain and I’m the type of person who squares up without any questions asked when my loved one is being attacked.
Only problem was… Maxine kept protecting him.
Until she found out that he wasn’t interested in protecting her.
For all our fights over her relationship with Levonte, when Maxine needed someone to stick around and help take care of the kids she didn’t plan for, I was the one who stepped up to the plate and Levonte didn’t.
He never did.
I huff out another frustrated breath, wishing I could tear my heart right out of my chest and beat the living daylights out of it. Something. Anything to rid me of this helpless anxiety.
I’ve given Maxine enough time to come clean.
We’re going to talk this out. Today.
My fingers tremble as I tap on my phone screen.
Should I call her?
I let my hand drop and lift my head. This conversation needs to happen in person. I need to look my sister in the eyes. That way, I’ll be able to tell if she’s shrugging me off or lying to me.
Turning away from the building, I drag myself to the subway station and get off near the restaurant my sister manages.
The sidewalk buzzes with pedestrians out for a late lunch. They all hurry to their destination, filled with purpose and urgency.
Things haven’t spiraled out of control.
The world is still turning for them.
Or is it?
Maybe they’re just like me.
Maybe the chaos wreaking havoc inside of them is so carefully wrapped that no one else can see it. No one else can notice.
Do they have sisters who continuously sign themselves up for heartbreak too?
I struggle to reconcile my love for my sister with my pragmatic sense of reality.
The world has always been black and white.
Right. Wrong.
Good. Bad.
I don’t like shades of grey. My mother and father grew me up to be honest and earnest.
Whatever you set your mind to, you can achieve.
Living with purpose kept me sane.
Loving my family kept me grounded.
Deranged laughter builds in my chest as I continue to contemplate Maxine’s pregnancy.
At what point does the blame shift from Levonte’s irresponsibility to my sister’s continuous ac
ceptance of his behavior? At what point does she transform from the victim to an accomplice?
A bicycle bell rings.
I jump back to avoid a crash.
The cyclist doesn’t bother tossing a harried apology. He keeps going, face set ahead and feet pedaling furiously.
Any other day and I’d slap a label on him to match my frustration.
Jerk.
Moron.
Now, I wonder if there’s more behind his frantic dash. Perhaps his wife is pregnant and he’s going to the hospital. Or maybe his parents were in an accident. Or maybe he’s just a plain old selfish prick in a hurry.
I freeze on the sidewalk, feeling oddly out of place in my own skin.
Every person on this street has a story.
The faces we build are so tightly fused to our true identity that we’ve convinced ourselves the masks are real. That the fears, insecurities, and challenges we war against won’t knock us down and knock us out.
Damn. I’m thinking too much.
Stalling.
That’s what I’m doing.
I keep walking even though I don’t want to face Maxine.
I can’t hear the words she’s stored up in herself. Words that will shift her world once again.
Our world.
Because of course I’ll help my sister out with the new baby.
In every way I can.
Emotionally.
Mentally.
Financially…
My feet scrape to a stop in front of Maxine’s workplace.
Sunshine blazes through the large glass windows that reveal stuffed booths, gold frames on the wall, and an impressive bar.
Maxine leans over a table, stretching out to wipe the very edges of it. She glances up at that moment and our eyes catch.
Guilt floods her expression and I wonder if I was too blind to miss it before. The way she’d dart her eyes when I asked about her morning sickness. The way she’d get defensive when I teased her about that sudden need to have pickles when she never liked them before.
It was so obvious.
My sister bounces up, her curly red hair jostling against her shoulders. She bites down on her bottom lip. Dark hands clasp in front of her apron as she tilts her chin.
A memory pops into my head. A few months ago, we were sitting side-by-side in the couch as the movie credits rolled. Margaritas chilled on the coffee table and contented silence fell around us like rain.
“The heroine let that billionaire guy off way too easy. They’ll never make it.”
“You think?” She scrunches her nose. “It was supposed to be romantic.”
“He didn’t change at all and yet he asked her to marry him? What’ll keep him from making the same mistakes again?”
“True love.”
I snort. “Please. Like that’s ever saved any relationship.”
“It can happen.”
I glance at her, eyes narrowed. “You’re not thinking about Levonte, are you?”
“Please! I’ve learned my lesson. I’m not going back to him. No matter what.”
“Promise?”
“I swear.”
My gaze hardens as anger spurts in me anew. Even after all that, my sister still found her way back to that punk.
What did he say to make seven years of abandoning his children okay? How sweetly did he kiss her that the burden of working two jobs just to make ends meet failed to matter? How hot was his touch? How good was his loving that she made the same mistake again?
Just imagining Maxine and Levonte together makes me want to grab a crowbar and bust someone’s windows out.
Maxine’s pregnant.
Nostrils flaring, I start to march to the front door, but Maxine hurries to get my attention. She flails her arms, head shaking back and forth in a silent instruction to stay out.
I’ll come to you. Her dark eyes flash.
I nod and step back.
She grabs one of her coworkers, slender fingers digging around his biceps. They talk for a moment and then Maxine unties her apron and flies out of the restaurant.
Her sensible black pumps scrape to a stop on the empty sidewalk. The breeze rustles her red curls and blows them against high cheekbones.
I shrug out of my coat and slip it around her shoulders. “Why did you come out without your jacket?”
“Can we talk at home?” Maxine clutches the coat, her eyes still on the ground and her shoulders curved in.
“I just want to know if it’s true.” I stare at my older sister. Try and fail to find the spitfire who used to warn me away from the very kind of boy that she fell for. “I just want to know if he was joking around or not.”
Maxine licks her lips and takes the coat off. Wrapping it around me, she buttons it. “I’m pregnant, Clark.”
Her voice is a whisper.
It’s a gentle hum that could shatter like glass.
Disbelief pours through my veins.
Snatches the last bit of hope I’d been holding on to.
The thought that Levonte was just spouting nonsense to get me to open my checkbook had crossed my mind more than once.
It was a stupid hope, I knew.
Levonte’s allergic to keeping his pants zipped around other women, but he’s not an idiot. He was probably aware that I could contact Maxine. He was probably aware that I would. He knew his lies would unravel with one word from her if he wasn’t shooting straight.
Deep down, I knew he was telling the truth.
And yet a part of me prayed the entire way over…
“Why, Max?” I hiss, stepping closer to her. “After everything he put you through, why would you—”
“Later,” she snaps. Her gaze slides to the pedestrians striding around us. Although I know her discomfort stems from her desire for privacy, I’m still offended.
My eyes sharpen. “I’ll wait for you at the café across the street.”
“Fine.” She shakes her head so stubborn.
I scowl you better show up.
We separate and I find shelter in the warmth of the café. After ordering a coffee, I sit in the booth.
Restlessness chews my patience like a rag doll.
Hoping to make the time go faster, I pull out my bakery menu. I’ve got everything listed out to the measurement. Ingredients. Prices. Presentation. Pinterest boards for inspiration.
My dream is so close I can taste it on my tongue.
As long as I focus on that, I definitely won’t explode.
Breathe, Clark.
The coffee doesn’t last long once it’s in front of me.
I order another. Sip on it. Try not to think too deeply until Maxine arrives.
She slides into the other side of the booth, her thick coat an armor around her dark skin. The bright red curls have been pinned away from her face so I can see the tiny black moles gathered on her right cheek and the way the plastic earrings sparkle in the late afternoon light.
She folds her fingers together and whispers, “I wanted to tell you.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I knew how you’d react.”
“Why the hell,” I lean forward, “would you get pregnant again? You know this guy’s track-record, Max. You promised me you wouldn’t give him the time of day.”
“It was a mistake.”
“So you accidentally fell on top of his naked body while your thighs were gaping open?”
Her face hardens. “It’s my body, Clark. It’s my business.”
“No.” My shoulders heave as I struggle to rein my temper. “No, Max. You’re family. What happens to you happens to me. Don’t try to shoo me out of this because you know you messed up.”
She glares outside, still avoiding my eyes.
I keep going. “How are you going to afford an extra mouth to feed? Did you even think any of that through before you…” I shake my head. “We’re barely holding on as is.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“How? You’re already working two jobs, M
axine. We’re both maxed out with loans. This is the worst possible timing.”
She places a hand on her stomach, that fiercely protective mama-bear look in her eyes. “Look, I get that you’re angry with me, but the baby can hear you.”
“Might as well hear the truth now, so he’s prepared for the future,” I grumble, but I do change my tone. Softening the harshness, I plead with my big sister. “Tell me why.”
“I didn’t intend for it to happen.” She drums her fingers on the table. Her nails are painted a sharp red that match the fiery color of her hair. “I only sought him out because I wanted him to know I was suing him for child support.”
My eyebrows hike. “What?”
“When I had Moe, my life changed completely.” Her eyes pierce the window as if she’s reliving that part of her history. “I had to drop out of college to take care of her. I keep telling myself I’ll go back, but every year it feels like a dream that gets further and further away.” She sucks in a deep breath. “It was my pride that told him I didn’t need anything from him, but I do. I can’t keep living like this, Clark. I feel like I’m drowning.”
My heart stirs with sympathy. It burns beneath the ashes of my anger.
I place my hand over hers. “You should have told me.”
“How could I?” Her tearful whisper wrenches my soul like a vise. Maxine dabs at her leaking eyes with a napkin. “You finished college. You were focused on opening your own bakery. You were moving forward and making moves. You had everything under control and I just felt like I was spinning in place.”
“Maxine…” I groan.
“I know it doesn’t sound like much, but Levonte always made me feel important. I needed that so much that I made a mistake.” She bobs her head firmly despite the tears. “I did something I regret.”
“So you’re not together?”
“It was a lapse in judgement. That’s it.”
I flop back in my seat and blow out a breath. “What did he say when you told him about child support?”
“He said his business was having a hard time.” She licks her lips. “You know how difficult it is to break into the clothing industry. He’s trying his best with social media, but there’s only so much he can do.”
I eye her intently. Maxine claims she’s over Levonte, but the soft, protective look in her eyes tells me the opposite. “You sound sorry for him, Max.”
