Sugar Rush

by Leigh Ellwood

  “Um, I meant about offering an incentive to customers who check into these sites, or give us a review.” Corky nudged. “Like give them a free cookie or something?”

  Neve looked up. “Oh. Well, we have the punch cards.” She indicated the thinning stack of business cards by the register, which granted customers one free cupcake with the purchase of twelve.

  “I know, but…” Corky bit her lip. Neve could see she was having trouble explaining something technical to her. She should probably just let Corky do what she wanted, so long as it didn’t affect the store in a negative way.

  The girl leaned closer to Neve, reading the small screen. “We can report the harassment too,” Corky said, pointing to one of the one-star posts. “I’ll get on that when I have a free moment.”

  Neve handed back the phone. By that logic, they’d have to report the glowing reviews that praised their support of the LGBT community as well, but made no mention of food quality. All she wanted to do was sell cupcakes and pie—she didn’t want to lead a revolution.

  “Leave them,” Neve said, to Corky’s visible surprise. “You know, when I’m on book sites and see one that has a hundred five-star reviews, I wonder if they’re all from the author’s friends and family, or paid endorsements. Nobody censored me when I posted on Facebook.”

  The look on Corky’s face told Neve that the young girl had trouble believing she managed that feat and lived to tell about it.

  “Anyway,” she added with a raised eyebrow, “if somebody wants to bellyache that we make wedding cakes for gay people, let them. I end up ignoring crappy reviews of books. Others will come here and decide for themselves.”

  “Ever read a book that turned out crappy anyway?”

  Neve nodded. “Luckily everything we make here is so damn good, we may just change a few minds and hearts. Now,” she clasped her hands, “back to work, Dirk.” She had to plan the sweets to sell for the following week and get everything ready for Judy’s party. No matter how she looked at it, she’d need a week to rinse off the sugar.

  To her relief, Corky volunteered to stay after closing and help with assembly of the items for the bakery, while Neve and Terri handled some of the menu for Judy’s party. “Some of this stuff we can freeze until Sunday, the rest I’ll handle day of. It’s going to be mainly finger foods and little treats for small plates,” Neve said.

  Terri pulled out a few bowls from an overhead rack. “I already have an idea for a new candy to sell, the kerfuffle truffle.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “It’s full of nuts.”

  Corky paused in her task of setting paper liners in muffin tins. “Ker-what?” she asked, laughing.

  “Kerfuffle, with a K. It’s a word from 1912 that I’m fond of using.” Neve winked.

  “Really?” Corky brought out her phone for a quick check. “Hm, this dictionary site says ‘kerfuffle’ originated sometime in the thirties.”

  Neve glanced at Terri. “You were off by two decades. Now who’s nuts?”

  “Oh hush,” Terri replied.

  They worked for a couple hours, taking care of a few staples they kept in the store and placing them in the cooler. Though Neve came in early to bake the cupcakes and other confections fresh, other treats like cake pops and brownies seemed to taste better chilled. With the former becoming more popular, Neve tried to keep at least six different flavors on hand, therefore making it necessary to prepare them in advance.

  For Judy’s party, they completed the requested Oreo truffles and chocolate-mint truffles for the dessert bar. Using brightly colored fondants, they wrapped each treat so the truffles could be arranged in rainbow patterns. That left the brownies and lemon squares to complete. The tea part of the dessert service she could handle on her own Sunday morning. It would only require buying a variety pack of bags, and sugar and sweetener packets. Per the order agreement, Judy would supply hot water and cups, and surely a place like Little Dude’s could handle that.

  Terri mumbled something incoherent while stirring ganache in the double boiler. Neve caught “she better appreciate” and shook her head, choosing to concentrate on forming solid truffles for enrobing. Judy had expressed her gratitude plenty for their agreeing to the short deadline. Terry need not worry.

  Corky emerged from the walk-in, rubbing the cold from her arms. “Need any help?”

  “If you don’t mind waiting a bit, we’re almost done here.” Neve hated to let either of the women out alone at closing. The shopping plaza sat in a relatively safe area, but why take chances?

  As they stored the finished goods, a knock sounded on the glass door.

  “There’s a woman out there, can you see?” Terri nudged Neve. “I can’t tell from the distance. Corky, is that your ride?”

  Corky sat at the round yellow table, immersed in her smartphone. “No, ma’am. I took the light rail.”

  Neve looked through the service window and her stomach instantly dropped. From where she stood, she had a better view of the would-be customer…only Neve knew this woman probably wanted more than a simple sweet to go.

  “Oh Lord. What do you want?” Neve muttered. She washed her hands quickly and grabbed a paper towel on the way to the door.

  “Neve?”

  She ignored Terri and stormed toward the front door. The deadbolt clicked loudly, and Neve grimaced at the noise as she greeted the brunette with the smoldering gaze and tight red sweater underneath an open leather coat.

  “Hello, Gianna.”

  Gianna flashed a hundred-watt smile and hugged her arms under her rib cage. She bounced a bit in place, no doubt hinting at her discomfort in the cold evening.

  Nice try, Neve thought. She reserved the right to refuse service to anyone, and no-account ex-girlfriends topped that list…right above Nazi storm troopers. She’d just as soon serve zombies. You’re not getting in here.

  “Hi, Neve.” Gianna let out an awkward laugh, as though unsure of herself. “I saw the lights still on and people moving around. I thought for a moment you might still be open, but I guess not.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ve already cashed out and put away stock, otherwise I’d let you shop for a minute.” Maybe Gianna would buy the lie, told merely out of courtesy. With Corky in earshot, Neve didn’t want to create a scene. “We were just winding down some special orders for the night,” she continued, “but if you want to try us tomorrow morning—”

  “Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you sooner than that. Do you have a moment?”

  Still gripping the doorjamb, Neve turned back toward the kitchen. Terri, clearly giving in to curiosity, now idled at the front counter under the pretense of straightening sale flyers and sugar packets. Even if Neve wished to invite Gianna inside, they’d have no privacy, and the disapproval creasing Terri’s face promised a future lecture regardless of her next move.

  “If you two want to head home, I can finish here,” she said.

  Corky brightened, her thumbs paused on her phone screen, but her expression faded with Terri’s curt, “We can wait.”

  “Fine.” Neve stepped outside without her jacket, ensuring she wouldn’t spend too much time with Gianna before she had to beg off for warmer environs. They strolled past the other storefronts, barely glancing at the displays.

  “What brings you by?” Neve asked. “Might as well be open about this. I know you didn’t come for cupcakes.”

  Two years…two damn years after leaving Neve an emotional wreck with an emptied heart. The nerve of Gianna, looking sexier than ever with her thick dark hair flowing over her shoulders, her flawless skin, her full lips pouting for a kiss. Jeans encased her long legs and hugged her heart-shaped bottom. Neve inwardly groaned, remembering how she’d loved that perfect ass—quite literally. The night Sugar Rush turned its first profit, they’d celebrated with a private buttercream taste test. Neve had licked enough flavored icing from Gianna’s nipples and backside to send a weaker person into a coma. Gianna had snickered at Neve’s idea to sell frosting shots for a dollar an
d advertise sixty-nine varieties…until they tried the position themselves with a few dollops of chocolate cream.

  Funny how that seemed a lifetime ago, yet Gianna looked no different from their last day together as lovers and friends.

  Gianna’s smile appeared less fake now, and more placating. “I know, I’m that obvious. Neve, when we broke up—”

  “When you left,” Neve corrected her, and watched for Gianna’s reaction. The other woman stiffened but took a deep breath as though determined not to take any bait.

  “I was a total shitheel, I’ll admit that,” she said, “and you deserved better, closure. Every time I thought about reaching out to you, I was afraid you’d tell me to fuck off. Soon it became two years, and that seemed too long a gap to pick at old wounds.” Gianna paused for a breath, then said, “If it’s any consolation, she ended up leaving me for somebody else, so karma came back to bite me on the ass.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear it.” Not really, but Neve had to say something to keep from thinking about that delicious, karma-bitten ass. I used to nibble on that tush.

  They came to a stop in front of the restaurant occupying the other end of the plaza, a Mexican cantina Neve fought to avoid because of its delicious and fattening lunch buffet. She perched on the low iron fence that cordoned off the patio dining area and stuck her hands between her thighs to warm them.

  Thinking about it, she wondered what she would have done if Gianna had returned to her earlier. She’d always thought she needed an explanation for Gianna’s betrayal, to know why the woman she’d wanted as her life partner had suddenly spurned her for somebody else. Other times, she felt content in her ignorance. She didn’t want to hear that her replacement gave Gianna bone-shattering orgasms or indulged the fantasies Neve refused her.

  Truthfully, she had enough on her mind and didn’t want to have this conversation now. The news that Gianna was unattached again couldn’t have come at a more awkward time, right when the bakery was busier than ever. And she could smile at a couple holding hands or kissing without swallowing back tears.

  “What you did for those women getting married,” Gianna said, “that was awesome of you.”

  “That was business. I bake and sell wedding cakes, they wanted to buy one. I’m not marching on Washington.”

  Gianna sighed, shaking her head. “You opened your door to equality, Neve. I always found your confidence sexy, but it’s allowed to take a break from modesty once in a while.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” Neve shivered at always. What did Gianna feel now? Neve refused to presume Gianna was fishing for lingering feelings.

  “When I posted on your Facebook page, I wasn’t expecting you to answer,” Gianna said, looking away from her.

  “I didn’t, actually. That was Corky, my other assistant.”

  “I figured that. It sounded like a pat response.” Gianna nodded. “Still, my post wasn’t deleted or anything, which got me thinking…”

  “About what?”

  If Gianna held those aforementioned thoughts now, she didn’t say so outright. The brunette let her body speak for her as she stepped closer and nudged her leg against Neve’s knees.

  Neve held her soft gaze, recognizing a spark in those dark eyes that signaled a silent plea for less talk, more action.

  No, don’t do this. Neve gripped the with both hands—Gianna had her trapped. She used her leg to gently pry Neve’s knees apart and towered over her.

  She wanted to avert her gaze, but Gianna’s beauty proved too strong to resist, even with their past acknowledged. This woman had dumped her without ceremony, not even a damn e-mail, and now with one doe-eyed glance, she set the low heat pooling in Neve’s belly. Her clit pulsed and her pussy throbbed, wetting the crotch of her pants, aching for a touch.

  “Neve,” Gianna whispered, smoothing her hands over Neve’s shoulders. “I missed you. I was stupid and selfish and—”

  “Hello?”

  Neve looked past Gianna and gasped.

  * * * * *

  Judy knew to expect a hectic time at work, since all the local military were paid today. Her eight-hour shift passed so quickly she didn’t have a second to feel tired, much less lean on the front counter for a breather. Young enlisted men sorted through their inventory of pewter figures and dice for role-playing games, while a few officers Judy knew by name stopped in to replenish their stores of model glue and enamels. Not to be outdone, the ladies spent a fair amount at Main Street Hobbies. Judy estimated she rang up a hundred skeins of yarn, thanks to their clearance sale.

  Thirty minutes before closing, traffic finally quieted, and Judy took advantage of the lull to sneak a bite of the candy bar she’d hidden near the register. She savored the decadent combination of fudge and caramel, thinking it hardly compared to anything she could enjoy at Sugar Rush.

  Judy sighed happily, anticipating Neve’s tasty treats…and perhaps a taste of the beautiful chef. She closed her eyes as she chewed and focused on the sweet and salty flavors overloading her senses. Neve worked with chocolate every day, surely, and no doubt her taste would prove sweeter.

  “You eatin’ on the job there, girl? Not very sanitary, is it?”

  Judy nearly choked on the last chewy morsel sliding down her throat as she snapped to attention. She groaned upon seeing Rachael, still in her barista apron, laughing in front of her.

  “I thought you were working late tonight?” Judy asked. “I was going to come by after I closed here.”

  “I’m on dinner break, got about ten minutes left.” Rachael checked the time on her phone before slipping it into her apron pocket. She idly brushed off a patch of powdered sugar from the brown fabric and looked around the store. “Sooo, do I at least have a say in what’s happening at the birthday party I didn’t really want, but is now going on anyway?”

  Judy said nothing at first, but waited until a customer wandered deeper into the store and out of earshot. Her manager was working in the back office at the moment, and Main Street Hobbies enjoyed laid-back operations, though Judy knew not to take advantage of her superior’s good nature. Finally, she leaned closer to Rachael. “I almost don’t want to tell you because I’ll never hear the end of it. I know those people upset you.”

  Rachael’s pierced eyebrow arched. Today she’d colored her brows to match the turquoise in her hair.

  “I sort of met somebody this morning. The lady who owns the bakery in Hilltop Plaza, she’s doing the cake for that wedding I told you about,” Judy began.

  “Yeah. Deenie said there was a blowup on Facebook yesterday.”

  Judy tried to remember where Deenie fit into Rachael’s overactive social life. She didn’t think Deenie was the Fonzie clone putting on the show last night. “Anyway,” she continued, “I wanted to show my support, and got to talking…next thing I know I’m hiring her to cater your party at Little Dude’s. I know you said to forget it when that Russian asshole kicked us out of his place, but you know…it’s your damn birthday. You shouldn’t let other people spoil it for you.”

  They’d had more than one conversation about this before Judy found Sugar Rush. Friends had offered to do potluck for the party, but Judy knew Rachael had looked forward to a fancy spread like on some Food Network show. Until she’d unfortunately let some bigots get under her skin.

  “During my break today, I started calling people to let them know and the buzz is pretty good, Rach,” Judy said. “People want to celebrate your birthday, and your coming-out anniversary.”

  The powdered sugar had momentarily caught Rachael’s attention again. “Really? I still have friends?”

  Judy laughed. “Don’t be a drama queen. Even you can’t possibly have dated and broken up with every lesbian in town in the space of two weeks.”

  Rachael shot her a look that implied she was up for the challenge. “I appreciate that you want to do this, and yeah, I let the haters get to me. You said it’s at Little Dude’s? Dot’s going to just let us take over the bar at the last minute?”
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  “I talked to Dot. She doesn’t have a problem with it. Sundays are usually dead there and she’s not going to turn away paying customers,” Judy said.

  “I guess. After the week I’ve had, a party would be a nice pick-me-up,” Rachael conceded.

  “After the week…” Judy shook her head. Her friend had a frickin’ threesome last night! “What’s a bad week for you?”

  Judy waited a moment and then it happened—the other woman’s smile curled wide and high. “Never mind,” Judy said quickly. “I don’t think I want to know.”

  “Am I getting a stripper?” Rachael batted her eyelashes.

  “Only if somebody volunteers.”

  “Well, whatever, I’m in. Especially if it means I get more presents.” Rachael laughed. “Since you have the catering set, let me add a few more people to the guest list.” Out came the phone again and Rachael headed toward the door, texting all the while.

  “Hang on.” Judy held up a hand. “What if we don’t have enough cake to go around?”

  “Some of these guests will find someone else to eat.” Rachael winked. “We’ll talk more at the café, but it’s open mic night so enunciate, ’kay?”

  “It’s a birthday party, not an orgy!” Judy called after her friend.

  A last-minute crush of customers checking out the yarn sale kept the anxiety over the party at bay, yet as Judy rang up sales, she thought of Rachael and her rapid-fire thumbs. One wrong slip might send an invitation to everybody in her miles-long contact list, then what?

  I shouldn’t have done this, she realized after seeing out the last customer of the evening. She locked the door to the outside world and prepared to close up shop. She should have just conceded to Rachael’s earlier wishes, then later asked Neve out on a date like a normal, everyday lesbian. Seeing Rachael smile, though, made the spontaneous planning worthwhile.

  Especially if she got to see Neve’s smile too.

  * * * * *