Vanilla Beaned

by Jenn McKinlay

  Mel hurried to help Holly. They began pulling the debris off Scott and Mel was relieved when more people stepped up to help. The sight that met their eyes beneath the boards and bricks was fit only for a horror film.

  Scott was severely burned. The left side of his face was a boiled scarlet red along with his arm and his chest. He was moaning even though his eyes were shut and he seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness.

  Holly knelt down beside him. “It’s okay, Scott, we’re here and we’re going to get you to the hospital.”

  Scott moved his lips as if to speak but nothing came out except more moaning.

  “Shh,” Holly crooned. “It’s going to be all right.”

  She glanced up at a man standing beside her. He was wearing baggy jeans, a sideways baseball cap, and was covered in tattoos and piercings.

  “I need you to run to the ice cream shop and get cool, not cold, clean towels to put on his burns. Hurry!”

  The man nodded and ran. Holly looked at Mel and said, “We have to get his jewelry off. These burns are going to start swelling.”

  Mel nodded. She reached around his neck and unhooked the thick gold chain while Holly removed his ring from the pinky on his left hand. Mel glanced at his body and felt her gag reflex kick in as the smell of charred skin and hair infiltrated her nose.

  “What about his belt?” she asked Holly.

  Holly was swallowing convulsively and Mel knew the smell was getting to her, too. She wiped her nose on her arm and nodded. Together they carefully unhooked his belt buckle. Holly lifted his hips, while Mel pulled the belt free.

  Scott moaned and the women froze, fearing that they’d hurt him. Then he licked his blistered lips and croaked, “If you wanted my pants off, all you had to do was ask.”

  Holly choked out a sob-laugh and said, “Shut up. You’re going to be fine. Do you hear me?”

  The Hispanic man who’d run for the towels returned and Holly gently placed the damp cloths on Scott’s burns. Sirens broke through the crowd noise and Mel glanced up.

  “You’ve got him?” she asked. Holly nodded and Mel hurried back over to Stuart and the woman, still kneeling beside him.

  She checked his pulse again and the gash on his head. His pulse was steady and the tie around his forehead was saturated in blood but the wound beneath looked to have stopped bleeding and was beginning to congeal. He didn’t appear to have been burned.

  Mel looked at the woman beside her. “Thanks.”

  The woman nodded but didn’t leave. Mel understood. Once you watch over a person in danger, you become invested in their well-being. She’d been here before.

  An ambulance parked at the top of the street and three paramedics came running. They reached Mel first and she pointed to Stuart and said, “Head injury,” and then at Scott, “Severe burns.”

  One man knelt beside Stuart while the other went to tend Scott. The third ran back to the ambulance to get the stretcher. Mel backed up to give the man room to work. While he checked Stuart’s vitals, he asked, “What happened?”

  “We were here to look at leasing a property,” Mel said. “When Scott, the man who is burned, unlocked it and opened the door, there was an explosion and the whole place went up in flames.”

  More sirens sounded. The smoke had cleared and there didn’t seem to be as much fire coming from the storefront. The fire truck pulled in behind the ambulance and the firefighters jumped off the truck and came toward them, hauling on their gear as they ran.

  Several men started pushing the crowd back. Holly came to stand beside Mel as Scott was put on the stretcher and taken to the ambulance. Another stretcher appeared and Stuart was placed on it. He was unconscious.

  “Are you family?” the paramedic asked. Both Mel and Holly shook their heads.

  “Business associates,” Mel said. She noticed that she sounded apologetic as if she wished she could offer them more of a relationship than the acquaintanceship she had with both men.

  “Where are you taking them?” Holly asked.

  “UMC,” the paramedic said. “He’ll get excellent care there.”

  His partner arrived and they pushed off with Stuart between them before Mel could ask any more questions.

  “University Medical Center,” Holly explained. “It’s a hospital northwest of the Strip.”

  “We need to evacuate the area!” One of the firefighters came at them at a run. “There’s gas in the building. We need everyone to leave the area.”

  Mel and Holly exchanged a look and began to back away.

  “Gas?” Mel asked. Then she felt dizzy as she realized it had been Scott’s cigarette that had probably ignited the gas into a fireball. “Could a cigarette have caused this?”

  The fireman looked at her. “Explain.”

  “The man who was burned was smoking a cigarette. He dropped it to the ground right before he opened the door.”

  “If the gas was concentrated enough, yes,” the fireman said. “That will help us deal with this. Thanks.”

  “Is the gas coming from a line?” Holly asked. Mel knew Holly was thinking the same thing that she was. As bad as it was that Scott and Stuart had been hurt, and that was horrible, a gas leak meant that this could have happened after they’d opened their shop, killing staff and customers.

  The fireman looked harried. “No, in fact, it appears someone left the gas oven in the kitchen on. The whole shop was full of it. Damn lucky it was caught early or it could have blown up the entire street.”

  “Not so lucky for the two men caught in the explosion,” Holly said. The fireman nodded and said, “Sorry.”

  “I don’t understand,” Mel said. “Shouldn’t the gas to the premises have been shut off if the building was vacant?”

  “You’d think,” the firefighter said. He escorted them farther away from the area. “Please stay back. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

  “Come on.” Holly grabbed Mel’s arm and they began to move away from the fire, which had now engulfed the small storefront.

  “Mel!”

  “Oh my god!”

  Five

  Mel glanced up and saw Tate and Angie running toward her. They both looked frantic, and at the sight of them, she felt all the terror of the past few minutes bubble up inside her. Tate got to her first and wrapped her in a hug that threatened to crack her ribs. As soon as he released her to study her face, Angie lunged in between them and hugged Mel tight, not releasing her even when Mel patted her back to let her know she was okay and the hug could stop now.

  “We heard the explosion,” Tate said. “Then there were sirens and people were running and screaming. They blocked off the area and we couldn’t get through. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life. What the hell happened? Oh . . . hi.”

  “Hi,” Holly said back.

  Mel unhooked Angie from about her neck and stepped back. She took Angie by the upper arms and met her terrified gaze.

  “I’m okay, Angie,” she said. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

  Angie sucked in a breath, nodded, and then burst into tears. Tate put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “She’s safe. Where are the others?”

  “Scott was severely burned,” Mel said and she explained about the unfortunate meeting between Scott’s cigarette and the gas. “Stuart had a head injury but no burns. They’ve both been taken to the hospital.”

  “What about Holly?” Angie asked, glancing around to see if their future franchise owner was anywhere to be found.

  “This is Holly,” Mel said, and she gestured to the woman beside her. “Holly, these are my partners, Tate, who you’ve spoken to, and Angie, my fellow baker.”

  Angie’s eyes went wide as she took in the woman beside Mel. Even covered in dirt, with her dark hair mussed and her makeup half cried
off, Holly was never going to be confused with Betty Crocker. Mel knew Angie was thinking the same thing Mel had, that there was no way in heck this woman knew her way around a convection oven.

  “You’re Holly?” Tate asked. He was smart enough to turn his high-pitched note of surprise into a small clearing of his throat. “Sorry, I just . . . you’re not . . . cupcakes, huh?”

  Mel exchanged a glance with Holly. They both looked back at the blown-out storefront. The firefighters were soaking down the interior, and were now milling around the front, waiting to see if any hot spots flared. The place that just minutes ago had had the potential to be a cute little cupcake shop in a high-traffic area was now a charred gaping maw, looking like it would devour anything that crossed its path.

  “That was the plan,” Holly said. “But I think it’s safe to say that it’s gone up in smoke.”

  Mel patted her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  Holly shrugged and Mel could tell by the sheen in her bright blue eyes that she was trying very hard not to cry.

  “You were really amazing during the chaos,” Mel said. “You didn’t panic at all but jumped right in and started taking care of Scott. I was very impressed.”

  “Performing a live show, where anything can go wrong and frequently does, is great training for a crisis,” Holly said. “You were quick on your feet, too. I’d say for first responders, we did all right.”

  “The hospital they took Stuart and Scott to is UMC,” Mel said to Tate. “We should check on them. Scott in particular looked . . . rough.”

  “I’ll go,” Tate said. “The police will want to talk to you two. Text me about what’s happening and I’ll do the same.”

  “I’m staying with Mel,” Angie said.

  “Of course.” Tate planted a kiss in her hair before he took off in the wake of the ambulance.

  Two police officers arrived and Mel and Holly were separated and questioned about what happened. Angie moved from group to group, clearly not wanting either woman to feel abandoned.

  Mel felt terrible that she didn’t have more information for the officer, but the truth was she didn’t know anything about Scott Jensen or Stuart Stinson. She hoped Holly knew more about Scott and she referred the officer to Tate for more information on Stuart. She had never felt more useless in her life.

  When the officer left her, Mel took a moment to get her head together. Angie was comforting Holly, who was looking at the charred remnants of what was once her dream bakery with the despair that came with watching a dream die. Mel felt terrible for her, she really did, but at the same time there was a tiny sliver of relief.

  There would be no franchise now. Fairy Tale Cupcakes would remain hers, all hers, with no quality-control issues and no sharing her recipes or baking secrets. She felt a sigh of relief well up inside her, and she let it out in one long breath.

  “That sounds as if it came all the way up from your feet,” Angie said. She and Holly joined her where she stood in the shade of a cluster of palm trees.

  “I think it did,” Mel said. “You know, it’s a good thing you didn’t lease this place, Holly. If it was something faulty causing the gas to leak from the oven, well, you could have been killed.”

  Holly shivered. “I really hope Scott and Stuart are okay. I’ll just feel terrible if . . . well, you know.”

  Mel understood. Holly didn’t want to say the worst possible scenario, which would be for either of the men to die from their injuries. Mel agreed. She didn’t even want to think it. She’d had enough dead bodies to last her a lifetime.

  “I have to say that despite this disaster,” Mel said, “it was really nice meeting you. Maybe our paths will cross again someday.”

  Holly looked surprised and then sadly accepting.

  “Wait . . . what?” Angie asked.

  “Well, since there is no place to put the bakery now, I just assumed . . .” Mel’s voice trailed off.

  Angie propped her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at Mel. “Really? Did you really think we were only looking at one property?”

  “Well, I hoped . . .”

  “Ah-ha!” Angie pointed at her. “You’re still fighting it. You still don’t want to franchise.”

  Maybe it was the near death experience but Mel found herself incapable of denying the truth.

  “That’s not news,” Mel cried. “I’ve never wanted to franchise, and that was before I knew we were looking to partner up with a person who doesn’t even have any baking experience.” She paused to look at Holly. “No offense.”

  “It’s okay,” Holly said. She sounded resigned.

  “No, it isn’t,” Angie said. “Mel, the three of us have been over and over this. We have to franchise for the good of the business.”

  “No, you and Tate have muscled me into franchising ever since he quit being a wheeler and dealer and decided to be an entrepreneur with my bakery.”

  “It’s our bakery,” Angie argued, looking like she wanted to bang her head on the first hard object she could find.

  “Listen, I don’t want to cause any problems,” Holly began but they both interrupted her.

  “Hush!” Mel and Angie said together and then Mel softened it by adding, “Please.”

  Holly nodded. “I’m just going to wait over there.”

  As soon as she was three feet away, Angie turned on Mel. “What is the matter with you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Mel snapped. “Maybe it’s the near death experience I just enjoyed.”

  “Oh, stop being dramatic, you were nowhere near the explosion.”

  “I could have been seriously injured,” Mel said.

  “By what?” Angie asked. “Tripping?”

  “A shard of glass—”

  “The windows were boarded up.”

  “A very large splinter, I could have been impaled by a very large splinter.”

  “What is your issue with Holly?” Angie asked.

  “I don’t have an issue, I mean, other than her lack of formal training in the culinary arts.”

  “I don’t have formal training; neither does Marty or Tate,” Angie said.

  “Okay, look at her,” Mel said. “Does she look like a baker to you?”

  “Sure, if you slap an apron on her and put her in some sensible shoes, why not?”

  “She’s a showgirl,” Mel said. “With no kitchen experience, and you want to sell her a franchise of our bakery. I just think this plan is fraught with disaster.”

  “Bigger than the one you just lived through?” Angie asked.

  “Yes, because if she’s a lousy baker and the product is no good, our reputation will be finished,” Mel said. “It won’t matter how pretty she is. People are very unforgiving about their baked goods.”

  “So, what’s really bothering you is the fact that she’s pretty?” Angie asked.

  “No, yes, I don’t know,” Mel said. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “Nah,” Angie said with a dismissive wave. “Looks fade. Besides, I think she has a lot of artificial enhancements going on. You always have to wonder what the poor guy thinks when he wakes up and his va-va-voom woman turns into a ho-hum girl.”

  Even though Mel knew what Angie said was true, and how irritating of Angie to see all of the enhancements right away, she didn’t feel like confirming it and proving Angie’s point.

  “You know, you have to get over this prejudice,” Angie said.

  “What?” Mel gasped. “I am not prejudiced.”

  “Yes, you are,” Angie said. “Overly pretty women make you uncomfortable and self-conscious. I think it harkens back to your awkward adolescence.”

  “That is so not true,” Mel protested. “I treat everyone exactly the same.”

  “Okay, then, how did you determine that Holly can’t bake?” Angie asked.

  “Well, just
look at her . . . oh, crap,” Mel said. She hung her head. “Oh, man, I am prejudiced.”

  “In your defense, the mean girls in school were usually the pretty ones, so it stands to reason that you are innately suspicious of them,” Angie said. “Remember that witch Madison Arthur? She was a blond, blue-eyed stunner with her phony ski jump nose and her inflated ta-ta’s. She rode your case for years.”

  “The one whose boyfriend Dwight nicknamed me ‘Melephant’ until Tate punched him out?” Mel asked. “Yeah, hard to forget her. I can still see her pointing and laughing at me when my chair broke during band. I should have stuffed my clarinet right down her throat.”

  “I’d have paid to see that,” Angie said. “She used to mock my eyebrows and blame my hairy Italian heritage. She told everyone that I probably had a hairy back. Man, I hated her.”

  “I hope she’s married to a jerk,” Mel said. “And she has six kids and the birthing hips to show for it.”

  Angie laughed. “Time to focus. Holly isn’t Madison, and we’re grown-ups now. We can let go of all that stuff, yes?”

  “Yes,” Mel mumbled then twisted her head to the side in a full-on sulk. “It’s just not fair. Even if Holly is enhanced, she’s still a knockout, and I really think that if she can cook, I’m going to be super irritated.”

  “No, you’re going to be nice and supportive,” Angie said. “Come on, you know Tate’s right about the longevity of the company. If we want to be able to keep paying everyone, we have to expand.”

  “I know, I know,” Mel said. Her tone was grudging at best and she knew it.

  “All right, then, let’s tell Holly that we’ll keep looking for new locations,” Angie said. “Who knows, we may find the perfect spot and the cupcakes will practically sell themselves.”

  “Fine,” Mel said.

  Holly looked wary when they approached, and Mel couldn’t blame her. Even after the trauma they’d gone through, the woman still looked great, a little smudged perhaps, but still great. She wondered what Angie would say if she knew about the butt lifter padded panties. Knowing Angie, she’d want to pinch Holly’s butt, too.