I stopped at the gas station and picked up a newspaper, something I’d been putting off, and then drove over to Wendy’s where I ordered myself a large Frosty to ease my misery.
The picture of me sitting up on the back of Anthony’s convertible wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. Not with the stupid weenie float in the background behind me. And let’s not forget the sausage scepter I was holding.
With a groan, I folded the front page back and thumbed through the remaining pages to find the Want Ads. If I wanted to go into downtown Cleveland to work, there were a lot of options open. But I wasn’t much of a big city driver, so my remaining choices were limited.
I continued skimming through the ads for the Little Florence area. Other than the two places I’d interviewed with that morning, all that was left was an opening for a gas station attendant, a full-time sitter, and a person to deliver singing telegrams. It looked like I’d be picking up more hours at the restaurant.
I tossed my empty Frosty cup into a nearby trashcan and then pulled out of the Wendy’s parking lot with a heavy sigh. I was in desperate need of my friends who I knew I could vent to anytime the need arose. Today was one of those times.
I turned and headed for the north side of Little Florence to what would hopefully be my new home if I ever got another job. Not that my father would be too thrilled by my moving out. He’d prefer to keep his little ‘bambinas’ home forever if he could, but I was a grown woman who was ready to be out on her own. Or as ‘on my own’ as it got, considering I’d be rooming with my three best friends.
I pulled into the apartment complex and followed the winding road around to the row of townhouses where the one we were looking at renting was located. Carlina, Mia and Alisa’s cars were all parked outside.
I parked next to Mia’s VW Bug and grabbed my purse from the seat beside me. Getting out of my car, I looked around the neighborhood. The lawns were well cared for and the buildings impressively maintained. You’d never know it was an older complex. Standing there, I could actually imagine myself living there.
I made my way up the sidewalk that ran between their townhouse and the one beside it. Despite having had such a shitty start to my day, I felt a surge of excitement. If I didn’t find a second job right away, I knew I could always get more hours at the restaurant to cover my portion of the rent there.
Living on my own. Setting my own rules. Not that my parents had ever really been strict with me or my sister. There had never been any need to be. We had always been ‘good’ girls.
Well, maybe not always. I had tried smoking a cigarette at Carlina’s that one time. And, after losing a bet with my friends that past spring when we all went to Ft. Lauderdale for spring break, I did enter a wet t-shirt contest. Needless to say my second place ribbon found a home in the trashcan of our hotel room the day we left to come home. Anthony would have had a field day with that one if he ever found out. But I trusted my friends to keep that bit of information between us.
Twenty some identical townhouse-style apartments surrounded ours, forming a nice little community which consisted mostly of young couples and college students. A rec area sat behind their building, complete with an in-ground pool, picnic tables and grills and a basketball court. Not that I would ever have any use for the basketball court, but the pool would definitely be my favorite hangout when the weather permitted.
I stepped up onto the front porch and raised my hand to knock.
The door flew open before I had a chance to and Alisa greeted me with an excited smile. “Gina!”
“Hey.”
She yelled back over her shoulder, “Hey, guys, Gina’s here!”
I looked around at the stacks of partially unpacked boxes. The girls had moved into the place a few weeks before and were still settling in.
She turned back to me. “Something wrong?”
I shrugged. “It’s nothing. I’ve just had a shitty day.”
She grabbed my arm and dragged me inside. “Then you came to the right place to get over it.”
Carlina nodded. “Vent away. You know we’re always there for each other when whining about our life is needed.”
Mia came down the stairs carrying a bucket of sudsy water and a mop. “Hey, soon-to-be roomie!” she exclaimed with a welcoming grin. “You come to work?”
“More like trying to find work,” I replied with a sigh.
“She’s here to vent,” Alisa explained as she closed the door behind me.
“I take it your interviews this morning didn’t go so well,” Mia said with a frown.
“That’s putting it mildly,” I said. “I tanked. A college graduate and I can’t even land a secretarial job.”
“I’m sorry you’re having such a sucky day,” Mia said. Setting aside her cleaning supplies, she grabbed me by the arm and led me into the living room. “Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the plaid sofa Alisa’s parents had given to them.
Tossing my purse onto the table beside it, I dropped down onto the sofa.
Carlina sat next to me. Alisa and Mia settled onto a couple of mismatched chairs across from me. Ones they’d picked up at a yard sale that past weekend.
“Okay, we’re all ears,” Alisa said with a smile.
I sank back onto the worn sofa cushion with a long, drawn out sigh. “I’ve always had my job at the restaurant. I never had to worry about going out on interviews. And I’ll tell you right now there’s nothing worse than job hunting.”
“No?” Mia teased. “It’s worse than having to ride through town as the ‘Sausage Queen’?”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Seriously,” Carlina cut in, “I’ll bet your interviews didn’t go nearly as bad as you think they did.”
“You have no idea,” I told her. “I should have a huge ‘L’ tattooed on my forehead.”
“Shut up,” she said with a frown. “You’re not a loser. You’re just overqualified.”
“I wish that was all it was. I can’t type worth a shit and my computer skills are pathetic. And don’t even get me started on operating phone systems.”
“Maybe you’re applying for the wrong kinds of jobs,” Alisa suggested.
Carlina nodded. “I agree. You aren’t the secretary type. You’re too creative. You need a job you can be passionate about.”
That was the problem. I didn’t have any inkling what sort of job would do that for me.
“She’s right,” Mia said. “You need to do something that makes you happy. Like you are when you’re baking cupcakes.”
“Cupcakes?” I repeated.
“Yes. It’s no secret that you love to bake cookies and cupcakes and all sorts of sweets.”
“And you make damn good homemade frosting, too,” Carlina added.
“You guys are making me hungry,” Alisa whined. “I say we run to the store and buy stuff to make cupcakes. We can figure out what Gina should do while she’s baking for us.”
“While I’m baking?”
“Nobody does it better than you,” Mia said with a smile.
“We’ll be your assistants,” Alisa offered.
Carlina nodded. “And your job counselors all at once. So what do you say? Are we making a run to the grocery store?”
I nodded with a grin. “We’re running.”
* * *
An hour later, we were waiting for the timer to go off for the first batch of cupcakes. Just the smell of them made me happy.
“Those are so cute,” Mia said as she peered in through the oven window, admiring the mini cupcake pan I had picked up when we were at the grocery store.
Carlina grabbed a pair of potholders from the kitchen drawer. “Speaking of cute. How’s Tiger?”
“Having a shitty day himself.”
“Why?” my friends all asked, their gazes swinging my way.
“He walked in on his mom and Lance getting it on last night.”
“No way!” Mia gasped.
Alisa and Carlina both ma
de eew faces.
“Yeah,” I said. “Luckily, all he saw was Lance’s bare butt hiked up in the air.”
Carlina laughed. “I’m not so sure Anthony would consider seeing Lance’s ass as being lucky.”
“It’s better than seeing his mom’s,” Alisa argued. “That could mess a guy up for life.”
Carlina nodded. “No kidding. Billy D’Antoni walked in on his mom and dad doing the nasty and now he’s gay.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Billy’s been gay since he was born. Remember how he used to go around in first grade wanting to brush and style everyone’s hair?”
“First through twelfth,” Mia pointed out with a grin. “He was helping girls out with their hair at graduation.”
“I hear he’s living in California now and working in some high class salon,” Alisa said.
I couldn’t help but frown. “See there. Even Billy knew what he wanted to do. What’s wrong with me?”
Mia laughed. “Nothing’s wrong with you. Now stop freaking out.”
“Speaking of freaking out...” I said. “I thought for sure Anthony would back out of our Cedar Point date, but he hasn’t.” I paced the kitchen. “What’s he waiting for?”
“Maybe he’s waiting for you to cancel,” Alisa said.
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because then Anthony will say I was going back on my word.”
“So?” Mia replied. “It’s a hell of a lot better than getting puked on.”
I shuddered at the thought. “I have no intention of getting puked on by Anthony or anyone.”
Carlina laughed as she handed me the potholders. “I guess that leaves nursing out as a possible career choice.”
“I’m serious,” I told them. “We’re going to an amusement park and you guys know how Anthony tolerates rides.”
“You’re the one who suggested it,” Carlina reminded me.
She was right. This whole date mess was my fault. I’d picked Cedar Point so Anthony wouldn’t push the going out thing, but he had to go and screw everything up by accepting. Damn him!
“That’s it,” I said, reaching for my purse.
“What are you doing?” Alisa asked as I pulled out my cell phone.
“I’m going to call him and cancel our date. I told him we’d go out when pigs flew. There was never any deal on where it had to be.” So I could cancel without guilt and just come up with some other place for us to go hang out.
“Do you really want to do that to him today of all days?” Alisa shook her head and clicked her tongue.
“What’s wrong with today?”
“He’s still getting over walking in on his mom and Lance Lance Hottie Pants.”
“I think that would be Lance Lance No Pants,” Carlina corrected as she poured herself a glass of iced tea.
She was right. I couldn’t do that to Anthony. Not when he was doing all he could mentally to deal with his mom’s mid-life ‘Lance’ crisis. I was so screwed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Had I finally lost my mind? Instead of asking my father for more hours at the restaurant, I’d actually taken that job doing singing telegrams. Me. Gina Stewart. The same Gina Stewart who nearly flunked choir because she was so incredibly tone-deaf. But I didn’t want to want to add to my father’s hope that I would eventually take over the family business. He had Carla for that. She loved cooking and waiting on tables.
I glanced over at the nylon bag on the seat beside me. An oversized bag filled with the costumes I was expected to wear for my new job. When I’d interviewed for it, I thought I’d be wearing some sort of company uniform to do the singing telegrams. Not freaking costumes!
I forced my gaze back to the road ahead, thinking to myself ‘At least, you’re not going to be pumping gas’. If I screwed that up, the results could be deadly. So I’d taken the safer route, even if the thought of singing to people while looking like an idiot still had me cringing.
I had to focus on something else, like how badly I wanted to move in with my friends. That meant there would be additional bills to pay, responsibilities my parents couldn’t bail me out of. And I wanted my independence bad enough to suffer through this job until something better came along. I just hoped that didn’t take too long to happen.
My cell phone rang, yanking me from my thoughts. I reached into my purse and pulled it out, bringing it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to reach you or not.”
“Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“I was calling to see how your interview went today.”
“It went okay. I got the job.”
“That’s wonderful. You never did say who the interview was with. What are you going to be doing?”
Other than making a complete fool of myself? I thought with a frown. But then I’d already done that during the parade. Couldn’t sink much lower than that.
I’d had five other interviews that week, hitting everything from law firms to doctor’s offices to corporate businesses. You name it. They always ended with the same old ‘We’ll be making our decision by the end of the day. If we decide to hire you, we’ll give you a call.’” Needless to say, the call never came. And now here I was, newly employed by Wacky Willy’s Singing Telegrams.
“Honey, are you there?”
“I’m here. I’m going to be delivering telegrams.” I left out the singing part. It didn’t seem that important.
“Oh.” There was a moment of silence before she added, “That’s sounds...interesting.” Meaning it’s not what she’d hoped for in way of a job for her oldest child, but she’d accept it all the same.
“I’ll make a special dinner to celebrate tonight.”
“You don’t need to go to any trouble. I’m not sure I’ll be home for dinner tonight anyway,” I added. Truth was I didn’t want to have to answer any more questions about my new job. And dinner that night would guarantee an interrogation.
“I’ll make your favorite.”
“Stuffed manicotti?” I said, my stomach rumbling at the thought of it, my resolve weakening.
“With my special sauce,” she added.
Oh, man, did my mom know how to reel me in, or what? “All right. I’ll make dessert.” It would help relieve my stress.
“I was hoping you’d say that. Aunt Lorna’s sweet tooth will thank you.”
Who was she kidding? My mother was the one who loved the sweets in my family. Lucky for her, she had good genes. She could eat anything she wanted and never gain weight. Unlike the rest of us.
“I’ll make Florentine Cheesecake just for her.”
“She’ll love that.”
“I should be home around four. I’m going to stop by the apartment and tell the girls I’ll finally be able to move in with them.”
“You’re really going to do this?” she said. “Move out on your own.”
“Yes.”
“It won’t be the same without you here. Just remember, if things don’t work out you can always come back home. Our door will always be open to you.”
I had no doubt things would work out, but I appreciated her offer all the same. “Thanks, Mom. See you in a bit.”
* * *
“You’re home,” Mia said when I arrived at the townhouse.
“Almost my home,” I corrected with a smile.
“Does that mean things went well today?” she asked between spoonfuls of the low-fat yogurt she was eating.
“I suppose you could say that. I got the job.”
She studied me closely. “That’s supposed to be a good thing, right? Because you don’t seem too excited about it.”
I held the huge nylon bag of costumes out in front of me. “Maybe because I have to wear these.”
Her gaze dropped down. “These?”
“My costumes.”
She grabbed for the bag. “I have to see this.”
I followed her into the living room where she set her yogurt down on the
end table and then settled onto the sofa where she began digging through the oversized bag.
Her gaze snapped up to meet mine. “You have to wear a fur coat?”
“No, I have to dress like a gorilla.”
A LITTLE BIT OF SUGAR Page 5
