Her Cherry

by Bloom, Penelope

  I ran a hand through my hair and blew out a confused sigh, which was a lot like a normal sigh, except it came with a frown. It was the kind of sigh you let out when you wake up in the middle of the night bare-ass naked and you’re standing in front of a refrigerator you don’t recognize. Again. It was the kind of sigh that came right before you inevitably asked yourself, “what the hell?”

  I pushed it all out of my head as I opened the door to her shop. Confused or not, I could smell fresh-baked bread, and I was hungry. It was time to stop trying to psychoanalyze myself and go back to doing what I normally did. Leaping without looking.

  The scent of freshly baked pastries and pies washed over me. It was a nice smell, and I’d noticed a hint of it had clung to Hailey, even hours after she must’ve left work when she was at the masquerade party. The scent already struck a familiar chord with me. It reminded me of the way her eyes had widened when I stepped close. Of how her heartbeat felt when it pounded through my fingertips.

  My little, untouched Cherry. The girl with wide, innocent eyes who smelled like flour and fresh-baked bread. It seemed fitting. She smelled delicious, just like I imagined she’d taste.

  I saw the same guy behind the counter as last time. I gave him a quick glare for good measure. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I felt a little jealous at the idea of her working alone in the shop with this guy every day. I was never big on the whole jealousy thing, though. I always thought jealousy was for guys who lacked confidence. What was there to be jealous of if you were the shit, and your girl knew it? Still, glaring at him wouldn’t hurt. It was just a precaution.

  Hailey was standing there with flour all over her black apron and even a smear of it above her eyebrow. It was kind of adorable. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and her nails were short, making me think she was probably a nail-biter like me.

  “You realize there’s a puppy behind you, right?” she asked.

  “What?” I asked, turning around and looking down. “Shit. I told you to get lost,” I said to him.

  The puppy barked at me and wagged its tail.

  “You’re not getting it,” I said, holding the chicken bone a little higher. “Toss this for me. Will you?” I said to Hailey, handing her the bone.

  She looked at it like I’d just handed her a dead body, which, technically, I guess I kind of did. “Do I even want to ask?”

  “This little asshole thinks he can have it, but he can’t. End of story.”

  The guy behind the counter was looking at me so closely I was starting to question his sexuality. I’d seen women give me that look before. It usually came right before they tried to come up and make some thinly-veiled attempt at getting me to hit on them. Good for him, I guess, but I wasn’t into the whole crossed swords thing, so he was out of luck.

  Hailey took the bone and dropped it in a trashcan nearby. “Okay… Mission accomplished.”

  “Thanks. See?” I asked, turning to the dog. “Your loot is gone. So get lost.”

  “Don’t be mean to him,” Hailey protested. She came around from behind the counter and knelt down to rub his cheeks and head. She paused, made a face, and then kept petting him. “He may smell like a dumpster, but he’s adorable.”

  “I think he is a she,” the guy that I’m definitely not jealous of said.

  Hailey and I both tilted our heads and looked down.

  “Well, she is still an asshole,” I said.

  “I think she likes you.” Hailey was still petting her as she spoke. “Poor girl. She has bad judgment and she smells horrible.”

  “I was thinking we could go somewhere,” I said. “We could call it a date. The whole nine yards.”

  Hailey stood up and dusted her hands off on her apron. A suddenly somber look wiped all other emotions from her face. “I’m flattered, and I really appreciate it, but… no. I don’t think we should.”

  “We could go to—wait, what?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve had a while to think about it. I don’t think it’s a good idea. For either of us.”

  I had to think for a few heartbeats to find a way to respond. I'd been rejected before, sure, but I'd seen those coming. This one was catching me completely off-guard. Hailey looked every bit like the picture of innocence to the world. A virgin girl with repressed sexuality and fire that was waiting to be unleashed. I thought I had her figured out, and I thought her lust would win out over everything else. I mean, come on, how do you go twenty years and some change as a virgin and not want to hump anything that moves?

  “Agree to disagree,” I said finally.

  She gave me a sad smile. “Well, I have actual customers sometimes, so, if there was nothing else, I need to get back to making the cannolis I was working on. The bills don’t pay themselves, you know.”

  She stood up and started walking back behind the counter. I was embarrassingly desperate to find a way to salvage where this looked like it was headed, so I said the first thing that popped into my head.

  “Be my personal chef,” I said.

  She stopped mid-step. “What?” she asked.

  “Personal chef. You can just do it at night, after you’re done here, so your shop won’t suffer for it. You could use the extra money. Get new… shit, I don’t know. Whatever bakers buy with assloads of money. Dough shredders? Cake stretchers? Cupcake wrapping machines?”

  A slow grin spread across her lips. “There are dough mixers. I don’t know why you would be stretching cakes, and you don’t wrap cupcakes after you cook them. You cook them in the wrappers.”

  I threw a hand in the air. "Whatever. The point is you could use the money, right? Name your price."

  “There’s no way. Even if you were serious. I couldn’t—”

  “I’ll market your bakery through Galleon. What about that? It’s not a handout. No money. No checks. Just marketing. You’ll have more business than you know what to do with,” I said.

  Her friend, who had been standing behind the counter and watching the whole thing like a tennis match, suddenly collapsed. The sound of his body crumpling to the floor was pretty loud, given the stunned silence on Hailey’s end.

  I looked to where the guy had just been standing. “Is he okay?”

  Hailey jumped a little, like my voice had woken her from some kind of coma, then looked over to her friend. “He’ll be fine. Ryan just does that sometimes.”

  “Passes out?”

  Ryan popped back up suddenly, red in the face and smiling. “I’m good! Continue. Please.” He pulled a cookie out of the nearby display case and popped it in his mouth, never taking his eyes from us. “Low blood sugar,” he said quietly, as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation for falling to the floor like a wet sack of potatoes.

  “Why would you make me an offer like that?” Hailey asked suspiciously.

  “This is the part where most guys would make up something. I’ll spare us that part. I’m making you that offer because I wasn’t done trying to woo you, and you seem intent on pushing me out of your life. I have the best marketing company in the world at my fingertips. All I have to do is say the word and a team of twenty experts will start drafting up a promo plan for The Glittery Baker. This is a perfect idea. Admit it.”

  “The Bubbly Baker. And sure, it’s perfect, except the part where I was trying to push you out of my life for a reason. And that you’re assuming you can just buy me? What does that say about your opinion of me?”

  “It says I think you’re a logical, reasonable woman. Nobody who makes it big does it on their own. Everybody catches a lucky break somewhere along the line, and all you have to do is make me dinner. You can leave right after. You can ignore me if you want. Besides, if you say no, you’re going to have to deal with me coming in here every day to hassle you until you say yes. You might as well get the marketing blast of a lifetime out of it, right?”

  She watched me for a long time, and I could tell her thoughts were racing. Ryan was working on his fourth or fifth cookie, eyes wide like he w
as watching the climax of a soap opera.

  "I'll do it," Hailey said, "but I have one condition. You have to take that poor puppy home with you so I can come to visit it when I go to cook at your house. And you need to give it a bath."

  I looked down at the puppy, who looked up at me with a shit-eating grin. It probably was literally the grin of a shit eater, I realized. “You realize you’re forcing this puppy into a neglectful relationship with me, right?”

  “You’ll pamper that puppy if you want this to happen. Non-negotiable. It had better be smiling and smelling like roses when I see it.”

  I took in a deep breath and let it out through my nose. How did I end up here? One fucking cherry pie and I went from being the one who made women come begging, to the one on my knees. Screw it, though. I was already in this. There wasn’t any turning back.

  “Fine.”

  “And you need to give it a name,” she added.

  I gave her a long, suffering look. “Gremlin?” I suggested.

  “That’s a horrible name.”

  “I kinda like it,” Ryan put his two cents in.

  “Too late,” I said, watching the puppy, who was wagging its tail faster now. “Gremlin already decided she likes it. We’ll see you tonight. Six p.m. sharp, or you’re fired.” I started walking for the door and noticed her menu was displayed on a black kind of cork board with letters that could be removed and rearranged. I snagged myself her “v”, because I figured if I euphemistically took her v-card enough times, I’d make it all the way to the grand prize.

  Really, she should have been thanking me for what I was trying to do. But alas, the real white knights of the world are never appreciated. I’d have to suffer through persecution and misunderstanding while I trudged ahead toward my noble cause. After all, nobody ever said being the good guy would be easy.

  5

  Hailey

  I had two landlords. One for my apartment, and one for my shop. Both had been trying to call me all day. I could listen to their voicemails and risk ruining my mood for the night, or I could be irresponsible and ignore them all together. Ignore them it was, because, hey, it’s not like I had the money they wanted. Listening would just make me feel hopeless. I was going to keep baking and keep sleeping in my bed until they kicked me out, when or if that happened, I’d figure something else out.

  It was surprisingly easy to put my financial trouble from my mind. Besides, William promised me world-class marketing, and I had every reason to believe his help could be exactly what my shop needed to start profiting.

  When there was a knock at my door, the first thought was that William had decided to show up at my place—even though he had no way of knowing where I lived. My stupid, irrational heart started thumping all the same when I went to open the door.

  It was Nathan. He was holding flowers and dressed to impress with a sports coat and tie.

  I shook my head. “Nathan. You can’t keep doing this. Seriously.”

  “What? Is it the asshole from the party?”

  “No, it’s that I already told you we’re done. So please just give up on it. This isn’t some movie where the girl eventually softens for the guy because he doesn’t give up. In real life, it’s just creepy. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

  He clenched his teeth together, jaw flexing. He stuck the flowers out for me. “At least take these.”

  I sighed. “Nathan, I’m sorry.”

  I closed the door on him and let out a long breath. I hated that he forced me to be so rude, but I knew in his head he’d think me taking the flowers was some secret signal that I wanted him to keep trying. I wanted him to stop, especially because I was pretty sure the only thing that had him so invested in me was the sick idea that he deserved to be the one to take my virginity because he had been my first long-term boyfriend. I wasn't making that up, either. He more or less said as much around the time we were breaking up.

  I waited a few minutes, half-expecting him to bash on the door and demand to be let in, but after a while, I heard his footsteps trailing away.

  Thankfully, I had tonight at William’s to keep me from dwelling on Nathan all night. Otherwise, I knew I would’ve let paranoid thoughts start to spiral, and I’d end up with the curtains drawn and the door barricaded. Instead, I was going to get myself ready and go fulfill my end of the crazy bargain I’d struck with William.

  As tempting as it was, I didn’t let myself waste an hour doing my makeup, hair, and picking the perfect outfit for the night. I was tempted, but I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t just another one of William’s flock—assuming Zoey had been telling me the truth, which was admittedly a questionable assumption.

  This wasn’t a date. I was going to cook for William. It was a job, and you didn’t get all dolled up to go to work, unless you were trying to impress someone. If anything, I wanted to be unimpressive, because I had a feeling William didn’t need any help deciding to devour me. The thought made chills run through me, and yet I held strong. I wore my flour-dusted clothes, applied a fresh coat of deodorant, just for the sake of sanitation, and brushed my teeth. I didn’t even mess with my messy ponytail. Good for me.

  I knew he was insanely wealthy by now, but even that didn’t convince me he meant what he said about the offer. I wasn’t going to lie to myself. I could use the business. Getting free marketing wasn’t exactly like taking a handout. After all, it would just bring more people to my business and I'd need to work harder to earn the extra money. Some people would still say it was a handout, but those people could munch on my muffins. Even if the offer hadn't been in the picture, I was secretly thrilled that William hadn't let things end so easily.

  Apparently, William was like a virus in my brain that made it so I couldn’t even figure out which way to feel. A virus that probably had a six-pack and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. Boing. He even had the nerve to be charming, as if it wasn’t enough to look the way he did. If looking like a movie star and being able to charm the habit and veil off of a nun wasn’t enough, he decided to add a huge pile of money to the mixture. The worst part? I actually kind of liked that he had a criminal streak. It kept him from being some boring, picture of perfection.

  I didn’t know if he was capable of being exclusive with me, or if he even wanted more than to seduce me out of my clothes, but I’d at least seen that he was persistent. He wasn’t going to let me go without a fight, and that counted for something, too.

  He’d made this whole ordeal into some kind of elaborate game. I realized that. Maybe it had been my mistake with men all along. I took it too seriously. I didn’t step back and see the game board or the pieces at play, so I never stood a chance. Maybe that was the secret. Love was a game, and before you played, you had to know how you wanted to win.

  If this thing between William and I was a chessboard, I didn’t just need to defend myself from his advances: I needed to find out what his goal was in playing the game. I’d have to let him make his moves. I’d need to be patient, to see if he was only after the “cherry” he loved to joke about, or if he wanted something more. Until I knew why he was interested, I wouldn’t know what I wanted. So for now, that was the plan. Put up my defenses and wait to see what he did next.

  I called my grammy before I left for his place. I’d lost both of my parents before I was really even old enough to have much more than vague memories and a scrapbook of pictures. It kept a place in my heart for them, but for all intents and purposes, my grammy had become my mom. My real parents were strangers to me, as sad as that was. Grammy was eighty-five now, and she lived a couple hours outside downtown New York in a cozy little town by the river. She was in a nursing home, which she enjoyed, because her favorite pastime was gambling. The nursing home gave her easy access to plenty of un-skilled and even senile gamblers that she could rob blind.

  She picked up the phone almost immediately, like usual. “Hey squirt,” she said. You wouldn’t guess she was well into her eighties from the energy in her voice. It was
easy to believe she’d live to be the world’s oldest woman when you spoke to her, and I hoped she would. She was my emotional crutch, and I wasn’t sure what I’d do without my almost daily update on the mischief she was getting into.

  “Hey, staying out of trouble?” I asked.

  “Life is about getting into trouble. One day you’ll learn. I’ve still got a body like a sixty-year-old bombshell and a mind like a steel trap. I’m not slowing down.”

  I laughed. “If your mind is a steel trap, it’s one that got left out in the rain and rusted shut.”

  She barked a cackling laugh back over the phone. “You’re only so quick with a comeback because of your old Grams. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Like a wrinkly old apple right off your tree. But I was actually calling for advice. I have a boy question.”

  Pause.

  “Well, well, well. I knew this day would come. Ready to dust off the cobwebs between your legs, are you?”

  “Oh my God, Grammy. Can you please never talk about what’s between my legs again?”

  “That’s how you ended up twenty-five-years old and a virgin, dear. You’ve been ignoring God’s gift to the world. You’ve got to cherish your vagina, not ignore it. It’s a weapon that women have been using to bring even the most powerful men to their knees since the beginning of time.”

  I plastered my palm to my face, mentally willing the last ten seconds of conversation into the deepest, darkest abyss of my mind. “Let’s focus on the boy, and less on me. Okay?” And let me never have to hear my grandma say the word “vagina” again.

  “The boy,” she said calmly, but I could hear a note of mischief in her voice. “Well, there’s only two reasons boys come sniffing around a beautiful girl like you—and you can trust me on this, because I was sexy as sin in my day. I still know how to turn a head or two, the only problem is that men my age don’t quite have the flexibility for head-turning. But you can see they wish they did when I walk past. Bet your ass you can. Anyway, men either want to use you like a toy, or they want a partner. There’s a time and place for being a toy, let me tell you. There was a boy back in Venice—”