When Girlfriends Let Go

by Savannah Page

  Sophie nods, and I follow suit.

  “But I’m so frustrated,” Claire wails, hands returning to her face. “How could they do this to him?” Her voice is muffled behind her hands. “He’s such a hard worker.”

  “Girls,” Sophie says, quickly casting about the café.

  I rub Claire’s back in slow, circular motions while she continues to lament.

  “Girls,” Sophie repeats, her voice stern and hushed. “I really sympathize with your plight, Claire, but—”

  “It’s so unfair,” Claire cries, bringing her hands down to her mouth.

  “Dear,” Sophie says, her voice beseeching, “as much as I’d love to play Dr. Sophie right now, I’ve got some customers to tend to. It’s not exactly a good time.”

  “It’s never a good time for crap like this to happen,” I say to Sophie, giving her an imploring look.

  “Okay,” she says over Claire’s muttering and sniffles. “Take it in the back and I’ll be there in a sec. I have something that maybe will cheer you up.”

  “Cupcakes?” Claire says, somehow exuding positivity and radiance.

  Sophie only replies with a sly smile and a wink.

  Claire proceeds to tell me about her latest conundrum in the solitude of the kitchen, where Gatz is stirring a concoction in an oversized bowl, eyebrows arching and face pulling tight or scrunching up every now and then, evidently honing in on the conversation.

  “I knew it was a possibility,” Claire tells me, squeezing tight her crumpled napkin. “I knew Conner might not get this promotion and then we’d be having a different conversation.”

  “About finding a new job?” I ask.

  She nods in response.

  “And that’d be a bad thing because…”

  “Because—because—” She bites on her quivering bottom lip. “Oh, this sounds so selfish.”

  “Honey,” I say with a smile, “I’m queen of selfish.”

  Gatz lets out a small but not-so-surreptitious chuckle.

  “Heard that, saw that,” I say, looking at him.

  He recoils in his stance a tad, then says, “Sorry, but I can’t help but overhear things if The Cup and the Cake is also used as the set of Sex and the City.”

  I playfully nudge Gatz’s forearm as he churns the thick, pale batter. “You’re a part of the fireside chat, voluntary or otherwise, so you have a two-bit piece of advice?”

  Claire looks at Gatz, eyes and mouth drawn down.

  Gatz contemplates the question a moment, not stopping his churning. Then he says, “Maybe this is just what Conner needs—a change of pace, so to speak. Our generation isn’t keeping to the same stale job for forty-plus years like our parents and grandparents did, you know?” He stops stirring to push back a fallen curly lock from in front of his face. “Sounds like if this company doesn’t appreciate him as much as they should, giving him the promo and all, then he ought-a skip out of there. You know?”

  “I guess,” Claire says, idly nudging around the flour that’s scattered about the tabletop.

  “That’s how I’d see it, anyhow,” he continues. “Like with this opportunity to study in Australia I’ve got.” He dips a silver teaspoon into the batter. “I saw it as a chance to do something different, something new. I like what I do here, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something else equally enjoyable or right for me.” He hands the spoon to Claire and tells her to take a taste-test, that maybe it’ll lift her spirits.

  “He makes a good point,” I say. “Em’s the same way.” I give Gatz a small smile. “She sees an opportunity—a new door—and she takes it. Maybe that’s what this is for Conner. He just needs to…take it. Let go of his job and move on.”

  Claire finishes licking the spoon clean. “Yeah,” she says resignedly. “I know that’ll work out. He’s a smart guy, and I have complete faith he’ll find something great, no matter what.”

  “See!” I enthusiastically give her a clap on the shoulder.

  “But it’s the baby, too. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to wait too much longer.” She sets the spoon down, then flips it over, back and forth, letting it make a ping-ping-ping sound against the metal tabletop.

  “You’ve got years to have babies,” Gatz says breezily.

  “I’m here,” Sophie’s voice appears exuberantly from behind. She makes her speedy way to the refrigerator. “And…” Two small saucers in hand, she closes the refrigerator door with a swing of her slim hip. “I come bearing my latest creation for you to sink your worries into!”

  Suddenly a blue-glitter and white-iced cupcake appears before Claire, then before me. There’s a miniature, white fondant fortune cookie propped on top in the center.

  “I call it the Find a Friday Fortune,” Sophie says proudly. “Now hurry and taste-test and let’s get back to chit-chat. It’s actually peaceful up there for a sec.” She jumps up onto a barstool opposite us, right next to Gatz, who’s now filling large, seemingly endless cupcake pans with the gooey batter.

  Claire immediately begins to pull the light blue wrapper from the cupcake, and I take a swipe of the icing. Mmm. It’s Sophie’s vanilla bean special. Simple, but delicious.

  “Go on,” Sophie urges with a broad smile, gesturing for me to take a real bite.

  So I do, biting right on in to the creamy sweetness, when— What’s that? I pull back and peer at the bitten cake.

  What the… I slowly pull out a thin strip of paper.

  “Isn’t that cool?” Sophie asks, eyes sparkling and hands clasped together in anticipation. “What do you think?”

  I look to Claire, and she’s licking her paper clean of icing and cake crumbles.

  “It’s…” I look sideways at the upside-down text of the small slip of what is obviously my fortune.

  “It’s ingenious, isn’t it?” Sophie says.

  I look at Claire once more, and she’s trying to make out the text, too. I glance at Gatz, but he’s paying full attention to his cupcake-making duties.

  “Well?” Sophie presses.

  I read my fortune aloud. “Today is your lucky day, so smile.” I give Sophie a curious expression.

  “And?” She’s waiting on pins and needles for our opinions.

  “Can I be frank?” I ask, the sticky paper in between my fingers, and… Yup. That’s right. There’s also a little bit in my mouth. I fish for the lost corner of paper and wince. “Sophie, babe. I think this is a terrible idea.”

  “It works for fortune cookies,” Claire says sweetly. “But in cake?” She licks her fingers, then looks to be searching for a fragment of her own fortune.

  “Ugh,” Sophie groans. “No good, huh?”

  “It works in something hard, like the cookie,” I say, picking up on what Claire was saying. “But a soft and gooey cupcake…” I crinkle my nose.

  “People won’t expect that,” Claire finishes for me. “We want to bite into the yumminess and softness of a cupcake. Paper just doesn’t work in there, you know? Soggy with sogginess.” She delivers the frank message with sincerity and her signature sweetness, never wanting to hurt a soul.

  “That’s what Gatz said,” Sophie says, tossing a limp hand up.

  Gatz just shrugs.

  “It was worth a try,” she says with a loud sigh. “Honestly! I don’t know where my creativity has gone. I feel so—so—so stifled or something. I’m just workin’ round the clock and I need something new. Something refreshing. Inspiration!”

  “You know,” I say, an idea coming to me, “it’s a good thing you asked us to sample these before you went and made them a regular menu item. People could, like, choke on these things.”

  “Yeah,” Claire says. “Imagine if I had a baby.” Sophie and I share a brief deadpan glance. “It would choke on that and—”

  “Okay! I get it,” Sophie says. “Just trying to get your thoughts and offer up a bit of cheer. Besides, I already had to hear from Lara about how it could be a lawsuit waiting to happen with some unsuspecting ninny ordering and not knowing what
they’re in for.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Claire says with a stern flatline motion of her hands. “You definitely don’t want one of those.” She shivers.

  “Thanks anyway, girls.” Sophie takes a swipe of frosting from Claire’s cupcake. “Did the sugary sweetness help with your plight at least?”

  “They work for me whenever I’m missing Em,” Gatz says with a cheesy grin.

  Claire holds out her cupcake to Sophie, who groans through a small bite.

  “Between cheesy, romantic, head-over-heels-in-love, sappy boy here,” Sophie says with a full mouth, thumbing at Gatz, “reminding me how unfair my love life is, not to mention him running on out of here with my only other super-fab worker, and then you, Claire, barging in with earth-shattering dilemma—oh! and worrying how I’ll manage wedding season and the best wedding cake ever for Robin…” She makes a high-pitched sound. “I’m going to need a vacation.” She takes a quick look at her watch.

  “But first! Duty calls up front!” Sophie enthusiastically wipes her hands on her apron and licks her lips clean before bounding off the stool. “I’d love to girl talk it up more back here, but if I don’t serve coffee and sell cakes I’m going to wind up on the street, Easy Bake Ovening my way back into the baking world.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sophie had nothing to worry about. She delivered a positively scrumptious wedding cake for Robin and Bobby’s wedding. It was beautiful, too. She called in a favor from one of her old coworkers, Oliver, a professional cake decorator. He piped dainty pink roses about the cake and made little beads that looked exactly like pearls, with the pearlescent sheen and all.

  Like the wedding cake, the wedding was exquisite. The backyard affair was the perfect blend of homey, romantic, intimate, laid-back, and fun. I couldn’t imagine a more ideal wedding for the two. Robin was absolutely gorgeous, and Rose made an adorable flower girl. Lara walked infant Phillip up the aisle, dressed in the smartest, tiniest suit. The ceremony was a really touching union of Robin and Bobby, and then Rose and Phillip were incorporated into the ceremony—sort of a marriage of the whole Holman clan. It was adorable and I cried an ocean of tears.

  The teary exchange of vows and “family coming together” part were the only times I actually found myself thinking of Andrew, and missing him. Luckily Sophie was by my side, passing out tissues to me and to Claire, back and forth, stopping now and then to wipe away her own flood of emotion.

  Aside from those sentimental moments, I honestly forgot about how Andrew wasn’t around for Robin’s wedding. In fact, I think I thought more about Emily and how much of a bummer it was that she was still in Africa and unable to come home in time for the event. What does it say when you miss your best friend more than your own husband?

  Despite the dreariness that has overtaken my marriage, Robin’s wedding was a brilliant shining light, and a ton of fun! As she and her new husband headed off for an extended weekend on San Juan Island, getting a much-needed tryst thanks to her sister watching the kids, the rest of the girls and the guys and I hit the town, after-party style. And you know what? If trips to the salon and the sauna, shopping sprees, and chats over cupcakes can’t take my mind off of the things that plague me, a night of clubbing will. It always does.

  ***

  “Any new guys on your radar?” I ask Lara, swaying my hips to the electric beat Re-Live has pumping through the speakers.

  Re-Live is one of the hottest clubs in Capitol Hill, attracting mostly a queer crowd, but it doesn’t matter if you’re gay, straight, or have dismissed yourself of the romantic-partner scene altogether. Re-Live is high on energy and has some of Seattle’s hottest DJs (not to mention quite a few hotties on the dance floor and working behind the bar). Honestly, I just don’t come here enough. Em and I used to come here a lot in college, daring each other to see who could collect the most numbers from interested lesbians.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Lara says loudly over the thumping bass. She sashays in her slimming, mint-colored, silken dress, matching the soft color palette Robin had for her wedding.

  Robin, like myself, didn’t go with the whole traditional bridesmaid thing, and I think the girls and I were all okay with that, seeing how it felt like only yesterday we were all trying on a trousseau of bridesmaid dresses for Claire’s wedding.

  Lara, however, walking baby Phillip in the ceremony, was the closest thing Robin had to a bridesmaid or a maid of honor, so she found this really pretty dress. It’s from the J. Crew wedding collection, so it’s actually a really nice number for our after-party. It’s not too obviously bridal, which could look either super corny during a night out or signal to all single males looking to get lucky within a two-mile radius that there’s prime bridesmaid booty waiting to be tapped. Then again, that could be just the thing Lara needs…

  “Unfortunately!” I say excitedly. “So it’s now unfortunate that you’re single, huh, Lara?”

  Lara places her hands behind her head and sways heavier to the entrancing beat of the music. She’s finally letting her hair down, ready to groove to the beat and have a night on the town.

  “So it’s time to sink your claws in a fresh piece of meat, then, right?” I press with a large, temptress-like smile.

  Lara’s dress clings to her curvy body and accentuates her long legs, and the mint color brings out the blueness of her eyes. It’s a classy yet clingy dress, and that’s a refreshing change from the usual pantsuits and ruffled button-downs.

  “I don’t want to go all carnivore on a man, Jack,” Lara says with a laugh. She looks up at the ceiling, swaying.

  Judging by her smooth moves, her fingers knotting in her hair, and the relaxed look in her eyes, it’s evident she’s had a drink or two, she’s feeling sexy, and, if you ask me, she’s ready for me to send the guy at two o’clock her way.

  “I’m open to dating again, though,” she says, rolling her shoulders as the music slows its tempo.

  Bingo! I can’t stop the growing smile from taking over my face as I lock eyes with the dark-haired, thick-chested, and square-jawed hottie at two o’clock.

  I move closer to Lara and slowly slink my back up against hers. I move downwards on my five-inch leopard-print Louboutins. Her hips keep swaying as I slowly and rather seductively move up and down, trying to keep with her tempo.

  “I want in,” Claire squeals, prancing over with a cocktail in one hand and a party blower in the other. Seemingly making up for a bachelorette party she never had, Claire’s got a neon purple boa draped loosely over the crooks of her arms. She blows the popper, its whirring noise inaudible over the club’s music.

  “Girl dancing!” she yells through a broad grin. She starts to move her voluptuous hips, her light blue taffeta dress moving brightly with her under the gentle but obvious flashes of the strobe lights that have just begun.

  I place my hands on Claire’s hips, leaning back on Lara, who’s still moving seductively to the music, and I look at the dark-haired guy. This time I give a crooked smile as I tilt my head back and lean it against Lara’s gently rocking shoulder.

  “Woohoo!” Claire screeches. She shakes her booty at me, blows her popper again, then begins to dance ridiculously with her boa. “We’ve got to do this more!”

  I notice out of the corner of my eye the dark-haired guy, his eyes trained on our little threesome, as he takes a slow drink of his cocktail before beginning to saunter out onto the dance floor.

  I close my eyes and fall back further into Lara, then turn towards her, initiating a side dance together. Lara smiles, tossing her head about with more energy.

  Quickly, I dart my eyes back at the approaching hottie. Perfect, I think. Classic girl-on-girl dance move to get a guy’s attention.

  I grab one of Lara’s hands, and she motions for me to do a three-sixty around her.

  There we go, I think, eyes back to the hottie who’s closing in, taking one step at a time to the beat. Come and cut in and then a slip of his hand in Lara’s and instant hook up.

 
; I’m about to laugh out, “Get down with your bad self, Claire!” when I realize the tan, dark-haired, sinewy arms around me are not those of a short, soft-skinned, effervescent girl named Claire.

  Instantly upon this realization, I entwine my fingers of one hand with the dark-haired guy’s, and grab Lara’s with my other. She leans forward, making a shaking motion with her shoulders, and pulls in closer. I take advantage of the moment and trade hands, slipping the guy’s into Lara’s, then give her a wink as I grab Claire by her taffeta-ed waist.

  “Woohoo!” Claire bellows, jumping up and down, the cheap, itchy feathers of her boa brushing against my face.

  As the music fades seamlessly from one track to the next, the strobe lights dimming down then finally shutting off, I retreat to an available bistro table with Claire.

  “Did you see my moves out there?” she gasps, dropping exhaustedly into a chair.

  “There’s my dancing queen,” Conner says, coming from nowhere and locking lips with Claire.

  Chad appears at our table a second later, a sweating beer bottle in hand. “You two know how to heat up a dance floor,” he says smugly.

  “I know!” Claire enthuses, one hand gripping the back of Conner’s neck, the other pulling the boa free from around her arms. She drapes the boa around Conner’s neck and lets out a gleeful sigh.

  “Should we all go heat up the floor a bit more?” Conner gives a sexy bite at the bottom of his lip and places his hands eagerly on Claire’s hips.

  Claire makes hungry eyes and leaps up, ever energetic when it comes to a night of dancing. “Let’s do this!” She tosses me her party blower and grabs Conner roughly by the hand. “Come on, you two, get on out and join us!”

  I look up at Chad. He’s tapping a finger against his bottle with the tempo of the mid-key music, his head slightly bobbing in tune.