by Tikiri
“Close your mouth or a fly will get in,” Katy said with a soft smile. “My mother used to say that when I was a kid.”
“Oh my god, Katy, I’m so sorry,” I said finally.
“Don’t be. Wasn’t your fault. Wasn’t mine either. It took me a long time to realize that.”
“How…what did you—?”
“My father left way before I was born and my mom made a living sleeping with men. Her brother moved in when I was nine and he was nasty. He lazed around the house all day, kicked my puppy and took whatever he could from us, including me. What could I do? I was just a kid. I think Mom knew, but she never said anything.”
Katy busied herself at the sink while I stayed frozen in my chair, trying to digest this.
“But before I ran away, I made him pay,” Katy said.
“What do you mean?”
“He was sleeping on the couch that morning. So I took one of Mom’s empty wine bottles and smashed it between his legs. Really hard too.”
I stared at her. I didn’t know she had this in her. “Good for you,” I stammered. “I’m glad, I mean, oh my god—”
“He woke up screaming and I ran away. Just ran out the door and never went back. A cop found me on the street that night, but I refused to tell him my name or anything, and my mom never cared to call, so they put me in a shelter. After a few months, they moved me to a foster home. I moved from one home to another, and I hated it. No one was nice because all they wanted was the money.”
All I could do was shake my head.
“I couldn’t wait to grow up and get my own place. I’d have cleaned bathrooms with a toothbrush if Dick had asked me to, I so badly wanted to be on my own.”
I opened my mouth to say something to make her feel better, but nothing came out. Instead, I felt hot tears running down my cheek.
“Hey, hey, why you crying, girlfriend?” Katy asked, leaning over to wipe my eyes with the dishcloth.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” I spluttered. “I didn’t even ask you. I didn’t even know. I’m so sorry—”
“Hey, how would you’ve known anyway? Besides, don’t we all have our crosses to bear?”
“I guess so.”
“Do you know what I regret the most?” Katy said with a sigh. “That poor pup I left behind. I always wonder what happened to him after that.”
I had no idea what to say. Behind those sassy red heels and cute miniskirts lay a sweet and gentle friend. She worked hard, treated everyone around her well, and wanted nothing more than to create a safe life for herself.
“Jose’s here now,” she said. “He’ll take care of us.”
I cleared my throat and swallowed. It took me a few seconds to speak up. “About Jose,” I said and stopped.
When Jose sauntered down the street, every woman turned to look, and every man pointedly ignored him, but no one ever seemed to hate him, not even Dick. Jose was extremely polite, well mannered, and charming, but something about him didn’t feel right. Then again, I was suspicious about everyone and paranoid at everything these days.
“What about him?” Katy asked.
“Are you, er, sure about him?”
She nodded. “He’s so much nicer than Dick.”
True. Anyone would be better than Dick, but I couldn’t tell her that.
“You know Mike, that really nice cute delivery guy?” I said, trying to change the topic. “I saw him checking you out the other day.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, why don’t you say hello sometime? He’s nicer and better looking too. Plus he’s our age.”
“Cute guys like that don’t want girls with big hips like me.”
“You don’t have any hips, Katy.” I still hadn’t approached her about her habit of running to the washroom after eating dinner every night, but there were more pressing issues to talk about at this moment. “You’re way too self-critical.”
Katy’s face flushed a light pink. “Jose’s always telling me I’m pretty. He makes me feel real good.”
I was silent for a while. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Just be careful, okay?”
“You worry too much. Do you know what he asked me today?”
“He asked you out for dinner?”
“He told me to get my passport.”
“Passport?” A jolt of alarm shot through me. I sat up. “Why? Are you going somewhere?”
“Cancun!” The biggest smile spread across Katy’s face. “He’s gonna take me to Mexico. Can you believe it?”
“Oh, my gosh,” I said in surprise. “That’s wonderful.” I paused. “It’s a bit fast, don’t you think?”
“He showed me the brochure. We’re staying at a five-star luxury resort. The hotel has four buffet restaurants, and we can walk to the beach. It’s gonna be my first holiday ever!” Her eyes shone in anticipation. “Can you imagine?”
“That’s awesome. I’m happy for you.” I didn’t sound convinced even to my own ears. I wanted her to be happy, but something about Jose made my stomach feel strange.
“I know you’re worried.” Katy put a hand on my arm. “And I know this sounds like a schoolgirl crush. He’s my boss. He’s from Detroit. He’s ten years older—”
“Fifteen!”
“Okay, fifteen,” she said, shrugging. “But he’s nicer than anyone I’ve met before. And he’s an amazing kisser.” She giggled.
“All that matters is he treats you right,” I said. “I’m just worried maybe he’s already mar—” I swallowed.
“Married?” asked Katy.
I nodded with a sigh. “Yes. It’s just that he’s, er—”
“What?”
“A bit too suave,” I said. Jose was just the type of guy to have a different girlfriend in every city, but I didn’t know how to tell her, or if I should tell her at all.
“Oh, Asha, you’re way too paranoid. Besides, I asked him.”
“You asked him?”
“He swore on his mother’s grave he’s not seeing anyone. He even asked me to check with Dick and Tony if I wanted to.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said, wondering how impeccable his references were. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t,” Katy said, beaming at me. Her cheeks had turned a rosy color. “He told me I was his queen.”
“That’s good.” I nodded. “He’s doing the right things, I guess.”
“You worry too much, Asha,” Katy said, smiling over her bowl.
I tried my best to put on a smile for my friend. But why did I feel afraid all of a sudden?
Chapter Forty-seven
“Let me show you ladies how a real business is run,” Jose said.
Jose had jumped into the Next Day Catering business with far more enthusiasm than Dick had probably ever shown in his life, and it looked like he was staying for the long haul.
In his first week, he responded to a newspaper ad by the Department of Diplomacy, Development, Trade and Foreign Affairs. Maybe he exaggerated slightly, maybe he inflated our capabilities somewhat, but a month later, he was proudly waving an official email in front of us. It was an invitation to an interview and screening at the department.
I read the email, eyes wide in disbelief.
“What did you tell them?” Katy asked breathlessly.
“Did you lie about us?” I asked warily.
We were in Dick’s office. Jim was fast asleep on his perch above the bookshelf, and Jose, in another one of his custom-made pinstripe suits, was sitting at Dick’s desk in front of the computer screen. He looked like the quintessential CEO, respectable and knowledgeable, unlike Dick, who was off at the track with Tony again. I wondered if Dick was trying to avoid the bakery and Jose, or whether he was having fun while his brother visited. Either way, we hardly saw him anymore.
“Don’tcha think I can make a good business case?” Jose said, giving Katy a teasing, flirty look.
Katy was sitt
ing on the desk in her miniskirt, long legs crossed and a pretty smile on her face. “Just wondering what you promised them,” she said, returning his look, her hand toying with her hair.
“Told ‘em we had the best baker in the city,” Jose said with a quick wink at me.
“Hey,” I said, holding my hands up. “I bake for people who eat hot dogs and fries before my cupcakes. These people have caviar and champagne for lunch.”
“So?” Jose said.
“Well.…”
“Can you bake good cakes or not?” Jose asked.
“I cater to church functions and birthday parties, Jose,” I said. “This is too fancy for me.”
“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “You can do this.”
“Yes, you can, Asha,” Katy said, nodding. “No one bakes like you. All the bakers we had before you were awful, and look, you’ve outlasted all of them.”
“Ladies,” Jose said, swiveling his chair around to face us. “We’ve been playing with this business for a long time—too long. We’ve got to stop dabbling in small potatoes and start thinking big. Forget Dick. I’m going to take this company to the big leagues. Are you with me or not?”
“Of course we’re with you, Jose,” Katy said, fluttering her lashes. Jose looked at her with a grin. His eyes ran down her legs. Katy put a strand of hair in her mouth and looked at him coyly. I tried to swallow something that was threatening to come up.
“And how are you planning on taking us to the big leagues?” I asked.
“I’m a serious businessman,” Jose said. “I run five businesses back in the States—real businesses, not mom-and-pop joints like this. Dick dabbles here and there so he can play the horse tracks. I’m here to make money, real money.”
Real money? That made me stand up straight. With what Dick was paying me, I was going to be stuck in this job for another year, barely eking out a living. Paying rent was hard enough. Making enough to buy a ticket back to Goa was my main reason for remaining here—my only reason.
“You really think this invite from Department of Diplo-whatever will help us?” Katy said, her head cocked to the side.
“Yessiree,” Jose said with a grin. “So Asha, if you’re up for it, your job is to make a dozen of your best samples. Our appointment is at two tomorrow. Can you do that?”
“Absolutely,” I said. An idea was forming at the back of my mind. “On one condition.”
“Condition?” Jose sounded surprised.
“Condition?” Katy echoed.
“I’d like a raise.”
“A raise?” Jose looked startled.
“A raise?” Katy repeated.
“Katy, you said I was the best baker in town, didn’t you?”
“Of course you are,” Katy said with a bright smile.
Jose let go a low groan.
“I deserve something for my hard work, don’t I?”
Another groan.
“Or, you can find someone else for the job.” I pretended to turn around to leave.
“No! You can’t go!” Katy said, throwing her arms up. “We need you! I need you.”
I stopped. I felt bad for leading Katy on like this.
Jose shook his head. He was silent for a moment. “Okay, instead of a raise, how about a commission? I’ll give you a percentage of every sale we make, but remember, you only get paid if we make a sale.”
“Wow,” Katy said.
“Sixty percent,” I said to Jose. “Or nothing.”
“Are you outta your mind?” he spluttered. “Who can afford to give anyone that kind of a commission? Are you trying to kill me?”
“Okay, here’s the deal.” I leaned forward. Jose leaned back, like he was afraid I’d hurt him or something. I knew what I was doing. I grew up going to the markets after all.
“Forget the raise. Instead I’ll take a fifty percent cut of all sales, and I will do the work. Baking and sales.” I paused. “That’s a very generous offer. Deal?”
There was one main reason I wanted an in on the sales. I wanted to know exactly what the numbers were so I was not going to be cheated. While Katy kept the books, I had a sneaking suspicion the men fed her lies and false numbers. I was also reading as much as I could about everything from visas and immigration to contracts and business, all of which occupied my mind twenty-four hours, seven days a week. One thing I learned was I couldn’t sign any business contracts in Canada till I was eighteen years old. So until then, I was at the mercy of Dick and Jose’s business.
Jose looked gobsmacked. “You’re not serious!”
“Take it or leave it,” I said, and paused. “And Katy gets a fifteen percent raise.”
“Oooooh.” Katy clapped her hands. “Thank you.”
“That’s nuts!” Jose sat back in his chair and let out a breath. “You’re totally, royally nuts.”
“And I will go to the screening tomorrow.” I didn’t trust him. I was bamboozled once, a long time ago in Goa, and I wasn’t going to let that happen again.
“You? But you work in the kitchen.”
I straightened up and looked him in the eye. “Your call.”
He let out a big sigh. I looked at him squarely, my chin up and face firm, but my insides were churning, worried if I was pushing him too far.
Katy had shown me the books a few weeks earlier. Since I’d started at Next Day, our orders had gone up four hundred percent. Jose was right. We’d been dabbling in small potatoes for too long, and I’d given away my time and talents for too long. It was time I took credit for bringing in the cash. It was time to take a risk. I whirled around and made a motion to step toward the doorway.
“Deal.”
I turned back.
Jose was holding his hand out. I looked at him in surprise. I didn’t think he’d give in so quickly. But before I could take his hand, Katy slipped hers into his.
“Oooh,” she said with a smile, clasping his hand. “Isn’t this wonderful?”
Jose took her hand and brought it to his lips. Katy’s face went crimson.
“I’m off to the kitchen, ladies and gents,” I said and stepped out, leaving Katy and Jose staring into each other’s eyes.
Chapter Forty-eight
I smelled her before I saw her.
The screening was held in a spacious room on the top floor of the Department of Diplomacy, Development, Trade and Foreign Affairs. The windows were covered with heavy forest-green curtains that fell to the floor. The lush green-and-yellow carpet and empress armchairs were the image of retro luxury. A gold-framed photo of the queen and the prime minister standing side by side adorned one wall. On another was the prime minister with the president of the USA, shaking hands and smiling.
There were seven of us in the room. Everyone was dressed for a job interview. I was glad I’d listened to Katy. I didn’t own a proper suit, so she and I had headed to the thrift store the day before, to see if we could find something professional. After an hour of trying dozens and dozens of pieces, I’d finally found a boy’s black jacket which had presumably been worn to a wedding and a smart black skirt, this time without any slogans on the back. Together, they didn’t look too mismatched or consignment-like.
“You look so like a professional caterer,” Katy had said, giving me the thumbs-up. “Like a real bakery saleswoman.” But now, in this plush room, with everyone dressed in designer suits and carrying Michael Kors handbags, I was painfully aware of how hand-me-down I looked.
Each of us had placed our wares lovingly on the table in the middle of the room and were seated in a row of chairs, waiting for the games to begin. At the head of the table was a place set for one, with a gold charger plate, silver cutlery, and a white napkin with the department’s logo. In front of this setting was a lineup of cakes and pastries waiting to be judged like contestants at a beauty contest.
The first tray held a lemon cream cheesecake topped with colorful berries. Next was a triple-layered butter cake covered with an intricate icing-sugar design of flowers that had tak
en an entire day to do—I knew because the woman who brought it told everyone about it. Next was a chocolate log on which sat miniature handmade marzipan fruit, perfect to the detail. In the middle of the table stood the fairest of them all, a majestic three-tiered cake with white fondant icing, perfectly manicured and impeccably designed, like those dazzling wedding cakes that graced the covers of Chef Pierre’s foodie magazines. I looked at it in awe.
All the way at the far end, dwarfed in so many ways, sat an aluminum tray of my homemade cupcakes. I’d brought one sample of each of my best recipes: pineapple cupcakes with creamy white swirls; black forest cupcakes with raspberry chocolate topping; blackberry cupcakes with cream cheese swirls on top; and finally, my favorite, nutty mango cupcakes. Next to the traditional pastries and the top-supermodel of a cake in the middle, mine looked fit to cater to a second-grade birthday party rather than a swanky diplomatic function.
My competitors were chatting in muted voices. They looked comfortable and confident, as if they’d done this before. Some even seemed to know each other. This place was seriously official. Two women in strict navy suits and sober expressions sat across from us at a side table, doing paperwork and conferring with each other in whispers. They checked their smartphones every few minutes, furiously tapping at the screens as if they were answering calls on national emergencies. Given they worked for the Department of Diplomacy, Development, Trade and Foreign Affairs, they might as well have been, except at that moment, they were surrounded by cakes, pastries and bakers. Outside the door, a security guard stood at attention in a smart blue uniform, with a dark scowl on his face. I glimpsed a handgun on his belt. What are they expecting? An uprising of sugar and spice?
I sat back and waited. My plan had sounded great when I was bargaining with Jose. I’d been excited at the thought of taking control over my work and making more money, but now I felt like I’d come in vain. My cakes didn’t belong. The worst thing was I was now on commission, which meant I would not even get my regular paycheck if I didn’t win this gig. What was I thinking? It’s time to quit this charade and go back to Jose and ask for my regular job. I quietly pushed my chair back to leave. That was when I smelled the expensive perfume.
