by Susan Soares
Milk chocolate chips. Peanut butter. Unsalted butter. Granulated sugar. Evaporated milk. Marshmallow crème. Peanuts. Vanilla extract. Caramels. Whipping cream. I melted the butter in the saucepan and let the warm intoxicating smell soothe my tortured soul. The milk and sugar mixed in with the butter made a bubbling goodness that I could just barely resist pouring into a glass and drinking. The marshmallow looked like a mountain of sugar that I’d like to swim in, but instead, I dropped it into the pan along with the peanut butter and vanilla. Moments later, I poured the concoction over the bottom layer of chocolate I’d already laid down in the baking dish. Then on top, I poured another layer of chocolate. My heart rate accelerated as I stared at the sinful goodness before me. But it would have to set in the freezer for an hour before I could cut into it. On my tiptoes, I carried the pan to the freezer. Then I took all the dirty bowls and spoons and quickly tossed them into the sink and drowned them in dish soap before I could lick them all clean. Then I went to take an hour-long shower.
An hour later, I stood in front of the freezer with a towel wrapped around me. The skin of my fingers was pruned and I was dripping water onto the floor. I swung the freezer door open and goose bumps broke out all over my skin. Not yet. I had to get dressed first. After throwing on shorts and a t-shirt, I was back in front of the freezer. This time, I confidently opened up the door and removed the ice-cold pan. After placing it on the counter, I grabbed a large spoon from the utensil drawer. Like an excavator, I scooped one large, clean spoonful out of the pan. It looked heavenly. As soon as the sugar hit my tongue, euphoria advanced across my body like a quick-spreading virus attacking each and every one of my cells. The spoon was clean a moment later. Quickly, I wrapped the pan in plastic wrap and headed across the hall.
Three knocks later, Mr. Dobson opened his door.
“Mallory! What have you got for me today?” he asked. He was wearing one of his favorite old man sweaters today; the putrid green colored cardigan. He was an adorable little old man, and thankfully, he had a massive sweet tooth.
“Peanut caramel bars!” I boasted as I held out the pan to him.
I swear I saw him start to drool. If he’d had any hair on his head, I’m sure it would’ve been standing on end.
“I assume you took some for yourself,” he said staring at the pan.
“I took just what I needed.” I waved goodbye and went back to my apartment. Then I lay down on my bed and listened to all twenty of Haley’s voicemails.
“Saved message:
Hey it’s me. So my mom took me shopping to, you know, like, bond with me or whatever, and I found this necklace set that has a jelly jar and a peanut butter jar. It’s like one of those best friend necklace sets, you know? Anyway, I bought it for us because you are the peanut butter to my jelly. Yeah, I know it’s, like, totally fifth grader stuff, but for real. PB and J! See you later, PB!”
***
Something was tap, tap, tapping on the space between my eyebrows. I fluttered my eyelids open and saw Fiona’s face.
“Geesh, I thought you were dead,” she stood and stared down at me.
Slowly, I pulled myself up to sitting. “No, just sleeping.”
“There’s a mess in the kitchen.” Her arms were crossed over her chest. “Is everything okay?” She dragged out the last word.
I got to my feet. “I’m fine. Relax. How was the job hunt?” I plodded my way into the kitchen and Fiona followed me.
“Not bad. I found one, anyway.” She grabbed a handful of cereal before taking a seat on one of the barstools near the breakfast bar.
“A job? Where?” I moved to the sink to rinse off the mess of bowls and silverware.
Fiona waited a beat before answering. “I’m a…waitress,” she said while shoving some cereal in her mouth.
Warm water sloshed around the big red mixing bowl I was cleaning. “Nothing wrong with that. When do you start?”
She stood. “Tomorrow,” she said a bit too quick. “Speaking of jobs, shouldn’t you be attending to some dogs right about now?”
“What time is it?” I had no clue how long I’d napped for.
“Three.”
“Shit, I’m late!” Like rapid fire, I began scrubbing the dirty bowls.
Fiona moved next to me. “Tell you what. I’ll clean this mess up, and in return, you pick me up a coffee from Perked while you’re out. Deal?”
“Deal.” I laid a dry dishtowel over her shoulder, grabbed my purse, and dashed out the door. The last thing I could afford was to lose my job.
Moments later, I’d taken the elevator from our apartment on the fifth floor to the suites on the top floor of our building. After knocking on the door to Casper’s apartment, I prayed he wouldn’t answer the door.
Relief washed over me when I saw the cleaning woman’s face appear. “You’re late,” she said.
“I know, I know.” I walked past her and into the apartment.
“He’s in the entertaining room,” she said with a smirk on her face.
“He’s here?” Damn it. “Where are the dogs? In their kennels?” Please let them be in their kennels then I can just grab them and sneak out and he’ll never know I was late.
She smirked again. “Nope. They’re in there with him.” She patted me on my shoulder. “Good luck.” Then she walked away.
The telltale signs of my anxiety sparked up. Over-accelerated heartbeat. Slightly shaking hands. Small lump in my throat. I walked with trepidation to the entertainment room. It wasn’t that Casper was a bad guy—not at all. And my job of walking his dogs part time was pretty sweet. He paid almost full time wages for a part time job, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. He had the money to spend. Casper had his own television show called The Kindred Spirit of Dogs. He was kind of like an animal whisper or Doctor Doolittle type of guy. He spent years learning about what he called dog psychology and mastered the art of dog training. He was pretty famous, and the waiting list to get on his show was close to five years long. That’s like thirty-five years in dog years! He split his time between his apartment on the east coast and his home out in L.A. Half of his pack of dogs was here and the other half was there. He really was nice—just a bit better with dogs than he was humans.
Even though I wasn’t the best dog handler—Casper was constantly reminding me of that—I still kind of loved the job. Sure, the dogs wouldn’t listen to me, and they would pull on their leashes, and they never sat still when I asked them to, but they were always there ready to go. They never questioned me on how good or bad I was with them. They never wanted to know anything about me. They never got on my case about anything. As long as I had a bag of treats with me, they’d slobber me with kisses—which Casper said was inappropriate behavior that I shouldn’t let them do but I was totally fine with it. Plus the fact that the job paid for my portion of the rent along with my groceries every month made it that much better.
When I walked into the room, I saw Casper with his back turned to me. He was talking to a girl who looked about my age. “Hello?” my voice was meek and quiet.
Casper’s five-foot five-inch stocky frame turned around. He reminded me of Buddha with his round belly and clean-shaved head, and constant serene attitude. “Oh Mallory, hello.” He must not have realized that I was late since his tone was light and jovial. To the pack of dogs lying at his feet he said, “Mallory is here, gang!”
All four dogs bounced up, trotted over to me, and sat in obedience at my feet. Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and Vixen all wagged their tales in sync. It was a bit unnerving. And I knew the dogs were starting to pick up on my nerves because their demeanor began to shift. The obedient sits were now turning into anxious sniffing and circling around me.
Vixen was the feistiest of the bunch. She was a Rottweiler mix and the one people seemed to be most intimidated by. Part of what made Casper famous wasn’t just the fact that he became this great dog trainer, but he did it working with the most violent breeds of dogs. His pack consisted of what most people would labe
l killer dogs. Vixen the Rottweiler mix—she had the most gorgeous black and tan coat, but when you caught a glimpse of her teeth when she yawned or barked, you instantly backed away. Dasher the pit bull/Rottweiler mix—some genius decided to breed together the top two vicious dog breeds—he was the most playful of the group, and his gray eyes were so sweet. Dancer—a purebred pit bull that Casper adopted as a baby—his coat was a light tan color, and his paws were all white; he was the biggest drooler of the bunch and always tried to steal Vixen’s treats. Prancer—a purebred Rottweiler—he was the most gorgeous of the group—if he wasn’t part of Casper’s pack, he’d probably be winning blue ribbons in dog shows somewhere. The one thing that all of these dogs had in common was that none of them was aggressive. Casper’s pack in L.A. was the same type of group. Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen were all purebred pit bulls. I’d met them once when Casper had to bring them out here for a publicity event. At first, I was scared to be around all eight dogs at once, but when I was around them, I was never worried. The most vicious breeds acted like docile labs or retrievers.
“Mallory, I’ve told you the dogs respond to your mood and vibe. You must remain peaceful.” He took deep breaths in and out and motioned for me to do the same.
Peaceful. That was Casper’s big thing. To be peaceful. Maybe that was why the dogs were never their best when they were with me. Maybe it was because I couldn’t remember the last time I actually felt peaceful.
“Well, okay, let’s go,” I said to the dogs, who were now nipping at each other, and Dasher was incessantly licking my shoe.
“Mallory, peaceful, peaceful.” He did the breathing motion again. Then he turned to the girl in the room and said to her. “Zoey, what’s the name of that yoga studio you like?”
“Zen. It’s on Main Street.”
Casper clapped his hands together. “Ah, see. My daughter suggests you go to Zen studio. You will find peace there, okay?”
I nodded while I hooked Vixen’s leash. She circled around my feet again, almost as if she did it on purpose to lasso me or something. I unraveled the leash around my feet and tried to act in control, especially around Casper—the last thing I wanted was to ever lose this job—but I could feel him watching me.
“Go to Zen, Mallory. Go soon and quick,” he said with a sigh.
While I hooked Dancer, I glanced over at Casper who was rubbing his clean, bald head. Some treats fell out of my pouch and onto the floor, and there was a mad dash by Dancer and Vixen to gobble them up. Since I’d been bending over to hook Dancer, the other dogs ending up knocking me down on my ass when they attacked the treats.
“Mallory, yoga please. You must become peaceful,” Casper said while rubbing his head.
Embarrassed, I grabbed the dogs by their leashes and headed out.
Me and yoga? Whatever.
***
After thirty minutes of the dogs pulling me every which way—according to Casper, they should walk beside me on a loose lead—I found myself in front of Perked. I took the dogs and clipped their leashes to the bike rack that was in front of the store.
When I got up to the front of the line, I ordered a large French vanilla with extra, extra for Fiona. Just before leaving, I felt an inexplicable need to walk over to the booth I normally sat in. An unknown force moved my feet steadily to my spot. My seat was empty, but something was off. As I moved closer, I saw that there was something stuck to the backrest. Once there, I was able to see a small sticky note attached to the seat. It read: Mallory’s seat.
Pins and needles pricked at my spine. Had the green-eyed hunk come back? He must have. Who else would have done it? The dogs began to bark, and I quickly exited the store. I had to get back home. And possibly make a batch of brownies.
CHAPTER THREE
The following day as I stood in line at Perked, I was happy to see Eliza behind the counter. No need to explain myself or my order to some other random barista.
“What will it be today, my dear?” Eliza said. Her eyelids were painted with neutral hues. Her lips were almost glowing with bright fuchsia lipstick, but on her, it looked awesome.
“Non-fat caramel latte hot and the carrot cake cheesecake please.” I pulled seven dollars out of my purse.
My breathing regulated as I watched Eliza take a big spoonful out of the cheesecake and place it in a bag for me before discarding the remaining cake.
“Thanks,” I said, grateful that she never questioned me or looked at me like I had six heads.
Eliza had a goofy grin plastered across her face. “You’re welcome.” Her tone was high-pitched, and there was a little gleam in her eyes. Maybe she’d had too much coffee already this morning.
I walked back toward my seat, ignoring my surroundings and only focusing on getting to my spot. My eyes scanned the back of my seat noticing that the Mallory’s seat note was gone. Too bad. I really liked it there. I sat down and took a long sip of my drink. The caramel coated my tongue in the best way. In my periphery, I saw a figure hovering oddly close to my booth, totally encroaching upon my space. I looked over, ready to announce that my personal space was my personal space and they should move the hell out of it, when I was stopped cold by those emerald green eyes.
“Good morning, Mallory,” he said. The stubble from yesterday had now doubled on his face. He took a long sip of his drink—which smelled like hazelnut—before looking back at me.
“H—hi,” I stammered. Keep it together, Mallory.
“How’s your morning going?” he asked.
Had he been waiting for me? How long had he been here? “It’s good. How’s yours?” I tried to be nonchalant even though my stomach felt like butterflies were having sword fights inside me. His bicep flexed as he took another sip of his drink.
“Well, to be honest it wasn’t that great, but it’s going much better.” He stopped and leaned in a bit closer to me. “Now.”
Heat began to rise up from my belly before it exploded across my face. Damn, why hadn’t I gotten the iced coffee? I looked away but could still feel his eyes on me.
“Hey, D, we gotta go,” a male voice shouted, and Devin stood up.
“I hope you have a great day, Mallory,” he said. My eyes transfixed on the way his mouth looked when he said my name. The way his tongue rested on the roof of his mouth as he elongated the “l” sound.
“You too.”
“Devin,” he said.
I sat quizzically.
“You too, Devin.” His eyes glinted like a diamond in the sun. “I just want to make sure you remember my name.”
I hadn’t forgotten, but another blush crossed my face. “Okay, Devin.”
A big grin like that of a ten-year-old boy who’d just hit his first homerun washed over his face, and then he turned and caught up with his friend who was standing by the door. Shit. Was I ever going to see him again? Would he be at Perked tomorrow? I knew I would, but would he? Was he flirting with me or messing with me? And why were my nipples hard? I reached for the spoon of carrot cake cheesecake and let the sweetness melt on my tongue. I had to pull myself together.
***
I was sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine when Fiona came home at five o’clock.
“I thought you were ditching me,” I said while tossing the magazine on the coffee table.
Fiona set her pink purse down on the breakfast bar and let out a sigh. “Sorry. I was supposed to get out at four, but there was a rush.” She was wearing a trench coat, which was odd since I’d never seen her in a trench coat before.
“New coat?” I asked as I stood near her. Her face told me something was up.
“Uh, yeah. So let me shower and change—fifteen minutes tops—and then we’ll head over to the folks for dinner, K?” She headed for her bedroom.
Like a territorial dog, I blocked her path. “Something’s up.” I stood before her with my eyebrows raised.
“What? No, nothing’s up. Now let me by.” She tried to brush past me.
“Take off the
coat.”
“Okay, freak, what’s gotten into you? Now move.” She tried to pass again.
“You need to prove to me you’re not a flasher. Take off the coat.” I stood, arms crossed over my chest and foot tapping on the floor.
“Ugh, whatever.” She huffed and dropped the trench coat to the floor.
My mouth gaped open as I scanned her half naked body.
“Don’t make a big deal of this okay?” she said.
My eyes burned as I looked at the crop top and matching booty shorts with letters B&B emblazoned in sequins across her ass.
“You’re working at Burgers and Buns?” Even the words sounded vile in my mouth.
“It’s so not a big deal,” she said as she pushed past me to her bedroom.
I followed. “It is a big deal! When you said you were waitressing, you failed to mention it was at a strip club!”
She turned to me. “You know for a fact it’s not a strip club. No one gets naked!”
“You are naked!” I pointed at all of her exposed flesh.
She threw her head back and laughed. “Okay, so I know you’ve had sex before, and if you did it with this much clothing on, then I have to tell you that you did it wrong. I am far from naked.”
“Semantics,” I shot back. “Why do you have to work at Burgers and Buns?”
“Because I don’t have the boobs to work at Tatas and Taters,” she was quick to retort. “You have the great rack, and I have the great ass, so it makes much more sense for me to sling drinks and overpriced hamburgers than to be made fun of for being flat-chested.” She grabbed a towel from the linen closet and walked towards the bathroom.
“But, Fiona, you can do better than this.” I didn’t want her working there with gross guys pinching her ass and making lewd comments to her all the time.
She stopped at the bathroom door. “Listen, I know you’re looking out for me, but really it’s fine. They’re very strict about customer contact and, all in all, are very protective of the girls. Plus, I made a shit load in tips today, and I was just apprenticing! Imagine when I’m on my own!”
