by Shey Stahl
A dozen coconut lime and a dozen dance party cupcakes.
I pick up my desk phone and dial Trevor’s number. I’m not expecting him to answer but he does, and I nearly choke on my breath at the luck. “Holy shit, you answered!”
He laughs. “Well, hello, Milena.” There are a few people who call me by my full name. Most call me Mila. My father and Trevor are the ones who call me Milena.
“Trevor, I have the biggest favor to ask of you . . .” And then I wait for him to say anything, Mila. Anything for you, my dear.
“Will you catch your kitchen on fire?”
No. I don’t really ask that, but you bet your ass I’m thinking it.
“So I have this VIP staying here, Shade Sawyer, and he wants cupcakes delivered to his room by midnight.” I blurt all that out in a single breath. Not easy to do I might add. It makes me light headed.
Quick, pass out!
Sadly, I do not, and Trevor’s gasp pulls me from thoughts of CPR being performed on me while I slip him my tongue. Not Trevor, Caleb.
“That’s like twenty minutes away. It will take me that long to get to the shop.”
And this is where I earn my pay and job status. “Trevor, I’m begging you. If this wasn’t important, I wouldn’t ask.”
He knows this. I’ve been friends with Trevor for ten years, and I’ve asked one favor of him. It was to make me red velvet cupcakes infused with tequila when I turned twenty-one. Best night ever.
He also knows, because he’s friends with my father, in the hotel industry, doing everything you can do for a VIP guest makes or breaks your hotel. If you can’t accommodate their needy requests, they will go somewhere that can and give their money to that hotel.
On average, Shade drops eighty grand every time he stays here. I’m not lying. It’s a shitload of money, and he has it coming out his ears.
How do you think my dad would react if I tell him Shade won’t be staying at our hotel anymore because I wouldn’t deliver him cupcakes?
He’d probably fire my ass. Family or not.
“Okay, meet me at the shop. I’m leaving now. What does he want? I might have them already made as the bakers have already started for tomorrow.”
I sigh in relief, my heart pounding in my chest. “He wants a dozen toasted coconut lime and a dozen dance party.”
“Okay. Meet me there.”
After hanging up, I run out of my office, down to the lobby where Tom is standing by the doors looking bored. He holds up the keys to Nixon’s Maserati. “Wanna take it for a spin?”
I’m tempted, believe me, I am, but the last thing I want is in Nixon’s car. It would probably eat me and or hold me hostage. Wait . . . shit, I’m thinking of that Stephan King movie Christine.
I wave Tom off. “I’m surprised you’re still employed here.”
I run up the street. In heels. Cupcake Royale is six blocks away and I consider twice throwing myself into oncoming traffic.
I’m sweating, out of breath and thinking seriously about looking for another job when I get to the shop about the same time Trevor is.
He gives me a weak smile and clicks the lock button on his Mercedes parked somewhat on the street and mostly on the sidewalk. He’s dressed in a robe and pajama bottoms. “You know I love you and your family, right?”
I hug his side. “I know you do and we love you so much!”
Luckily, the cupcakes were already baked, ready for New Year’s Day. And while I’m considering this a mostly unlucky day because there have been no real emergencies to warrant a 911 call, I’ve done something right because I’m sitting in Trevor’s car with ten minutes until midnight with three boxes of cupcakes.
Three?
“What’s the third box for?” I ask when he pulls up to the front doors of the hotel.
Trevor winks. “Red velvet for my girl.”
Did I mention I love this man?
I do. Not in a way I’ll ever sleep with him, though I know for a fact that’s why he’s done this favor. His hand on my thigh is a pretty good indicator.
“You could repay me on a date . . .” He leaves the suggestion hanging in the air. Like I’m supposed to jump at the opportunity.
Did I mention here how old he is? He’s like fucking sixty years old.
Not happening. I draw a hard line at Forty-five. And that’s pushing it.
I swat it away with a laugh and wink at him, my hand on the door handle. “I think I love you too much to date you.”
I don’t wait for him to say anymore and I know eventually I’ll have to repay the favor. It just won’t be with him between my legs like he’s hoping for.
After nearly dropping the cupcakes, stashing my red velvet beauties in my office, I then take them up to the penthouse suite to where Shade’s security team is standing at the elevator. They smile knowing who I am and let me through to his room.
I usually don’t go into his room until after he leaves. This is mostly because I fear having a heart attack if I see the destruction happening before my eyes.
What I’m surprised by is none of that. It’s Shade sitting by himself, no shirt on, a pair of jeans and barefoot with a few dozen empty beers around him, bottle of tequila in hand and Bob Seger’s “Wait for Me” blaring. The suite is completely dark; the only lights are the ones reflecting off the windows from the city below.
“Hey, Mr. Sawyer, it’s Mila from hotel management. I have the cupcakes you wanted.”
His eyes don’t lift to mine. Instead, they stay focused on the window overlooking the city and the space needle lit up like a damn Christmas tree for the countdown to the new year.
It’s not until the song is over and I’m placing the cupcakes on the table in the dining room, Shade acknowledges my presence in the room. There are two minutes until midnight.
He stands, hands in his pockets and I admire his muscular physique. He’s one of those guys who carries very little body fat, and much like Judah, his body is a canvas for a tattoo artist.
The tight ridges in his arms flex, his body tensing and then he turns to me, his eyes so bloodshot they look like he’s been crying, but I’m too scared to ask. “Thanks.” His voice cracks with the words, and then he turns back to the window. “Willa will take care of you.”
That’s my cue to leave yet despite this, I’m worried about the guy. This is not the Shade Sawyer I remember from six months ago. You remember, the one with the monkey?
No, this is a broken man who’s had life spit back at him for some reason. I kind of want to hug him. I hesitate by the door, and when I don’t leave, he glances over his shoulder at me, like what the fuck are you still doing here.
“Sorry,” I apologize, stepping backward and then tripping over a fucking chair and land on my ass. In a dress.
In front of Shade.
Nicely done, Mila.
Welcome to the New Year.
“Are you okay?” he asks, jogging over to me, his bare feet slapping against the tile.
I wave him off and think maybe I broke my elbow, but then I can move it, and I’m sorely disappointed. “Should I call someone? Are you hurt?”
“Call the fire department.”
He blinks, his shocking blue eyes focused on me. “Really?”
I sit up and sigh. “No, not really. I’m fine.” And then I stare at him. He’s definitely been crying, and I want to punch anybody in the face who made him cry. He’s got a pretty face, a star face, you know, the ones that are perfectly tan and have the nice white teeth and not a single blemish on them.
Don’t worry, I’m not falling for him too.
Mostly because when I look at him, I don’t get unicorn tickles in my belly like I did the night I met Caleb.
And also, Scarlet’s in love with Shade, and I’m not about to get in the middle of that.
Shade sighs heavily and sits down on the floor next to me and bumps my knee with his hand. “Happy New Year.”
I laugh. “Not exactly how I thought I’d be spending it but yeah, happy
New Year, Mr. Sawyer.”
The corners of his mouth twist into a barely-there smile. “It’s Shade, Mila. Mr. Sawyer’s my dad.”
He helps me up, and I stand at the door. “Do you need anything else?”
A shoulder to cry on?
An intervention?
A maid to sleep with?
I’m ready to hand over anything just to make him happy again.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you for those.” He motions to the cupcakes over his shoulder, the muscles in his body flexing again, and everywhere I look I see hard lines and tattoos. Scarlet is going to be very jealous of my eyes when I tell her. Not that she doesn’t know what his body looks like. I bet you she’s hooked up a hidden camera inside this room somewhere.
He reaches into his back pocket and hands me a wad of money. I don’t bother looking at it and stuff it in my makeshift pockets, aka, my tits.
“Have a good night, Shade.”
He still doesn’t smile, but nods.
In the elevator, I pull out the cash. He gave me four hundred dollars for getting him cupcakes he didn’t even look like he had any intention of eating. I’m not sure what to make of that whole situation when I’m walking back to my office. Scarlet’s waiting outside of it, purse in hand having just got off her shift for the night.
“What’s the matter, love? You look kind of awful.”
“Thanks.” I open the door to my office and motion her inside. “I never got to call 911 tonight. I was up in Shade’s room, and it was just weird.”
Her entire body goes rigid. “I swear to fuckin’ God, Mila, if you slept with him, I will cut your head off and set you on fire.”
Does she think I’m a vampire and she has to burn the pieces? But there’s an idea. Not a good one because I would more than likely die before Caleb arrived with my head cut off. “No, I wouldn’t do that.”
Scarlet gives me a pretty smile, tossing her arm around my shoulder as we walk into my office. “I’ll give you a New Year’s kiss. Might even give you tongue if you play your cards right, babe.”
“Though I appreciate the offer, I’ll pass.” I motion to the cupcakes. “I got us some cupcakes to wallow in our misery of being alone on New Year’s Eve.”
Her eyes light up. “Are those red velvet infused tequila cupcakes?” She’s remembering my twenty-first birthday.
“I think they’re just regular red velvet.” Opening the box, I carefully take one of them and then slide it over to her as we sit on my couch that faces the city, hundreds of sparks of light blanketing the city as people set off firecrackers to celebrate the New Year. “I had to call in a favor for Shade, and Trevor gave me these as a perk.”
Scar raises an eyebrow. “You mean an ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ type of gift?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t show him.”
“I can’t believe how men around this city of drooling over your perfectly tan ass.”
“Sadly, not the one I wanted tonight.”
Taking a large bite of her cupcake, she stares out at the city. “How about we go sit outside his apartment for the rest of the night and see if he comes home?”
I finish my cupcake and then lounge back against the couch. “As appealing as that sounds, I think I’ll save my remaining dignity.”
We’re watching the firecrackers and are on our third cupcake when Scarlet slaps her hand to my thigh. “Why’d Shade want cupcakes?”
“I don’t know. When I got up there, he was sitting in the corner of the room completely alone listening to Bob Seger and looked like he was crying.”
She sits up in a panic. “Crying? What? He needs me!”
I grab her by the arm. “He doesn’t even know you. You wouldn’t get past the elevator security. And besides, I need you.” And then I hand her the four-hundred-dollar tip he left me. “Here’s my half of the rent.”
She takes it and sits back, stuffing the money in her bra. This is why we’re friends. “Damn it, I wonder why he was crying? Who in the world would make a man as pretty as him cry, and why can’t he love me? Why can’t my life be like that Jennifer Lopez movie where the guy falls in love with the maid?”
“Probably for the same reasons the best sex of my entire life came from a firefighter I’m too chickenshit to find.”
Hot Zone
Contaminated area of HAZMAT incident that must be isolated. It requires suitable protective equipment to enter and decontamination upon exit; minimum hot zone distance from the unknown material with unknown release is 330 feet surrounded by the warm zone where decontamination takes place.
“Happy New Year!”
I stare at Jacey behind the bar as she slides another whiskey over to me. I’ve had entirely too many, and she knows this, but I guess it’s her New Year’s present to me. Like here, forget about your girl problems. Drink.
I don’t say anything in return. Instead, I lift the glass to my lips and finish the two fingers in the bottom of it. Like it or not, my eyes drift to the door again.
I’ve been sitting at this damn bar for three hours hoping Mila will come in but, no, she hasn’t, and now I’m to the point where I’m sure if I move from this stool, I’ll fall flat on my face.
“Are you going to stare at the door all night?”
“Who says I’m staring at the door?”
Jacey leans into the bar, her face inches from mine. “I know the only reason you came out was hoping she’d be here.”
She’s right. Damn it.
“Don’t you have a job to do?”
She glares, tossing a wet rang at my face. It falls on the bar and I push it aside carelessly.
Looking at me, you’d think, Jesus, is he depressed?
I’m not depressed. Or maybe, hell, I don’t know.
I once rode my bike down the middle of the street about a year ago to see if anyone hit me. No one did for six blocks. Lots of honks and crazy fucks yelled at me but not a single car hit me. In Seattle, that’s impossible, or should be.
Does that seem like depression?
I didn’t think so. Crazy, but not depressed.
But what the fuck do I know. I’m sitting at a bar waiting for a girl who probably never wants to see me again to show up.
It’s another three hours before Jacey is done at the bar and we’re walking home from the bar. It’s fucking cold, and I’m huddled in my jacket wishing we would have driven to Callahan’s instead of walking. Mostly because my legs feel numb.
Definitely too much to drink.
“I saw her,” Jacey notes, breathing into her cupped hands.
I raise an eyebrow, my attention on the fireworks over the sound. I’m kinda hoping it catches something on fire, but then again, I’m so drunk even if they called me in for a fire, Cap would send my ass home right away. “Who?”
We pause at the corner of Summit and Pine when the light turns red. My stare moves from the sky to the sign next to my feet for True Tattoos, and then the power pole next to it littered with band flyers.
“Mila. That chick you’re obsessing about. I saw her.”
I swing my head to her dramatically. “I’m not obsessing over her.” And then I have to ask, because I’m really fucking curious and despite what I say, I am obsessing. “When did you see her?”
“At Starbucks a couple days ago. She came through the line.”
I give Jacey a “what the fuck” look when the light on the crosswalk turns white, and we begin walking. “Why didn’t you give her my number?”
Jacey blinks slowly and then rolls her eyes. “Uh, dude, if you remember correctly, I’m the one who gave Gemma your number back in the day and look how that turned out . . .”
I forgot about that. “Oh, right. I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” We’re another block toward our apartment and I’m feeling like my balls are going to freeze off when Jacey laughs lightly. “I made a resolution.”
I’m not interested but I say, “Yeah?” anyway, trying to give her the impression I ca
re what her silly resolution is. She makes one every year in attempts to make her life better than what it is.
“Yup. I’m not going to sleep with E anymore until he tells Daphne about us.”
I snort. She doesn’t want to know what I’m going to say to this one, so I keep my mouth shut.
She glances over to me. “What?”
I don’t look at her and dodge the homeless people camped out on the sidewalk huddled together for warmth. “Nothing.” As we walk a few feet past the homeless couple, I notice another woman tucked into the alley, homeless too, but she’s not wearing a jacket. Just a long sleeve shirt.
Peeling off my jacket I hand it to her but don’t say anything.
She smiles weakly and takes it. “Thank you, sir.”
I wink at her and regret it immediately because I’m positive it’s in the teens tonight and believe it or not, I don’t like the cold.
Jacey bumps my shoulder when we begin walking again. “That was nice of you.”
“Yeah, well I’m fucking freezing now.” My skin pebbles with the cold, a shake I can’t stop spreading through me.
“Did you make one?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Make what?”
“A resolution.”
“No.” I laugh, shaking my head that she would even ask that. “Resolutions are for assholes who are too much of a pussy to make a fuckin’ decision and stick with it, so they use a holiday to motivate themselves. I can guarantee yours will be gone by the end of the week.”
Jacey whips her head to glare at me and digs her cell phone out of her pocket. “You know, there are these brief moments when I think to myself, why aren’t we together, and then you open your mouth and speak and I remember what a fuck face you are.”
We’re at the lobby doors of our apartment complex now. Reaching forward, I open the door and motion her in. “Being a fuck face and speaking the truth are entirely different, by the way,” I point out.
She rolls her eyes, attention on her phone. “Uh-huh.”
Inside the elevator, she gasps at something on her phone.
I laugh lightly, still trying to warm myself back up. “Does E want you to come over?”
“No . . .” Her widened eyes meet mine. “Do you know that Shade Sawyer guy?”
