The Awkward Path to Getting Lucky

by Summer Heacock

  “Ladies!” Butter interjects. “This isn’t a vagina competition.” She turns to me and wiggles her index finger at me as Shannon picks up a breadstick. “And stop trying to change the subject by picking fights. Back to your aunt.”

  Liz looks horrified but determined. “You know all that stuff your aunt said was crap,” she says. I’m impressed she said crap. “But as a twelve-year-old, you probably had a hard time letting that go. I bet your subconscious held on to a lot of it.”

  “I don’t have the energy to fight my subconscious, you guys, and my insurance doesn’t cover that kind of therapy. Plus the twenty-seventh is coming up. I’m starting to panic a little here. What the hell am I going to do?”

  Shannon chuckles. “Calm down. Man, you actually have been kind of overdramatic the last few weeks. But maybe you could, I don’t know, confront your demons or something.”

  “Yes! That’s a good idea!” Butter agrees.

  “What does that mean?” I ask, trying hard not to scowl.

  “You’ve been reluctant to roll with feelings? Let’s dive into feelings. You tend to stray away from embracing lusty experiences? Let’s get knee-deep in some lust.”

  I hang my head. “Guys, this is stupid. I’m going to be fine.”

  “Maybe,” Shannon says and leans forward to get my attention. “But you’re cracking, and you’re my best friend, and I don’t like watching this. On a more selfish note, we’ve got a lot riding on the next few weeks, and I need all of us on our A game. You’ve got just thirteen days left, so if getting you all up in your lust demons will help, then by god, we’re hunting down some motherfucking lust demons.”

  24

  I don’t see how this many people need cupcakes on a Thursday morning. We’ve got two orders going out today, I’m boxing up one of the birthday cakes to hand over to the customer on the other side of the counter, I’ve got a wedding cake comprised of three hundred cuppies to make, and there’s a line ten people deep just waiting to order.

  This shouldn’t bother me, I’m sure. Yay, business. But oh my damn, I haven’t even had a proper dose of coffee yet.

  I look at my list of invoices. “Shit,” I hiss. “Shannon, I’ve got to finish an order. They’re due any minute.”

  She closes the lid on a small box of muffins she’s packing up. “Gotcha covered, baby.”

  Butter rushes behind me with two cups of coffee and a to-go bag of something and heads to the register to check someone out. Liz is in the back making the occasional strangled sound as she tries to finish what is proving to be a hideously difficult wedding cake.

  Whoever decided they wanted a cake that looked as if it had a peacock with full plumage draped down the tiers is a lunatic.

  I run into the back room and grab a piping bag. “How’re you holding up, sweets?” I ask as she places vibrant layers of fondant feathers down a silver cake.

  “I hate this cake!” she cries. “It’s taking forever!”

  “After the burst I will come back and help, okay? I’ve got two cuppie orders today, and I’m doing some trial batches of the Ravens cakes with Shannon and Butter, but I think we can get it done.”

  She whimpers. “Thank you. This is going to take hours. I can help you with your wedding order later.”

  “Deal.”

  I start shoveling chocolate frosting into the bag and twist it off. I prefer working back in the kitchen, but Shannon thinks it’s good for business to show off a little during the busy times if we can swing it. The customers love to see the product come together, and even though a swirl of icing is tantamount to blinking for us, it tends to make people say, “Ooh.”

  Out in the front, I set the unfrosted chocolate cupcakes directly into the carrying box. Efficiency is my goal today. Just as I start squeezing, I see Ben walk in out of the corner of my eye. I give him a busy and apologetic smile as he queues up. With a grin, he nods his head and disappears into his phone, trying his best to not get knocked over by people coming up to view our display case.

  “Butter, can you grab more raspberry scones from the back?” Shannon calls out.

  “Yes, ma’am!” Butter says, saluting with one hand and handing a customer change with the other. She scurries into the kitchen and Shannon takes her spot at the register. I pipe faster.

  “Okay,” I say, setting the bag down and closing the lid. “I’ll box up the other dozen and then they’re ready to go.”

  “Perfect,” Shannon replies. Quite suddenly, her hand shoots out behind the counter, invisible to the customers, and grabs my hip in a death grip. I yelp.

  “What?” I squeak.

  Her face has morphed into a terrifying, frozen customer service smile. She speaks through clenched teeth. “Oh, holy Jesus, Kat. That guy who just walked in? The one behind Ben? Oh, fuck. He’s on the Coopertown committee. As in he’s actually one of the people who will be making the decision about whether or not we get this contract.”

  I can feel my eyes bulging, but I look away from him. “Fuckity hell. What is he doing here?”

  Shannon’s cheeks look painfully lodged in the smiling position. “I have no clue. But keep moving, goddamm it. Go warn Butter and Liz, and then finish packing up your order. There will be no screwing this up, do you hear me?”

  I nod and carefully pry her fingers off of my hip.

  I calmly set the order I’m working on off to the side, smile a friendly smile at all the customers in line and walk with grace and purpose back into the kitchen.

  “Guys!” I whisper-scream while trying to straighten my apron. “All hands on deck. Game faces. The big-shot Coopertown dude is queued up in the lobby.” Liz looks like she might faint. Butter stands up straight, and it kind of looks like she’s sticking out her boobs. It’s so distracting, it pulls me out of my panic. “What...what the hell are you doing?”

  She looks from me to Liz and back again. “What?”

  I point at her chest. “Those.”

  “I’m standing at attention?”

  “Okay, but you look like you just loaded your tit-cannons and are going into battle.”

  She raises an eyebrow, and her hands fly to her hips. “Aren’t we?”

  Liz looks down at her own boobs, and I have to physically stop myself from doing the same.

  “Touché,” I agree. “But look, holster those bad girls, Sarge.” Resuming focus and, with that, panic, I say, “Look, I don’t know what he’s doing here, but we need to wow this bastard, okay? We’ve got a full house out there. Let’s utilize it. And no pressure, but if we screw this up, Shannon will legitimately kill us all. Like, scratch our eyes right the hell out, okay?” They both nod, and I’m a little worried Liz might be sick. “Butter, get those scones out. Liz, go help Shannon ring people up. I’m right behind you.”

  They scuttle to the door and I grab another to-go box, carefully but quickly placing a dozen vanilla with blueberry jam filling and blueberry buttercream inside for the rest of my order.

  When I return to the front, I see the line hasn’t gotten any shorter, but the Coopertown fellow is getting closer. Shannon still has her robo-smile plastered on, Liz looks like we are about to be invaded by ninja cupcake warriors and Butter is taking an order while fidgeting with the glitter brush sticking out of her apron pocket like it’s a security blanket.

  Ben looks up from his phone and gives me a confused look. I try to smile as I run over to set the box I’m holding with the rest of the order I’ve been pulling.

  “Can you pack up a half-dozen red velvets?” Shannon asks in an ethereal voice, waiting on a customer.

  “Of course!” I say with what feels like too much enthusiasm. I bend down behind the display case and start boxing up cakes. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I dare to look. It’s a message from Ben. You okay?

  With one hand and a death wish, I q
uickly type out, Big client behind you. O_O

  I tuck my phone into my apron and get back to boxing. Shannon looks down, still smiling, but her expression has now passed right into creepy territory. Her eyes look desperate. “It’s okay,” I whisper up to her. “We’re doing fine.” I hand her the cupcakes and stand up.

  “Thank you,” she says in the same weird voice.

  We keep up the show-dog level of customer service and make our way through the line. Ben gets up to the register and Butter gives me a wink as she wiggles out of the way.

  “Hey,” he says quietly over the counter. “So, big fish, eh?”

  “Shannon is going to lose it,” I whisper back. I reach behind me and pour his usual coffee order. “Sorry it’s so busy today. I feel like we’re ignoring our best customer.”

  He smiles at me, and it stretches all the way up to his eyes. “I’m your best customer?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Coopertown guy reach the counter. Shannon has made her way over to him, smile still frozen in place. Her cheeks are going to be sore tomorrow.

  I turn back to Ben and grin. “You’re the best lots of things, Mr. Cleary.”

  His hand reflexively moves to his tie, and I don’t know whether to giggle or reach across the counter and bite his jaw.

  “Kat?” Shannon calls over, and I jump a little.

  “Yeah?” I side-eye Ben. “Excuse me for a second.” Walking over to Shannon, I slap on my own crazy smile and say, “What’s up, Shannon?”

  “Kat, this is Mr. Peterson from the Coopertown Ravens.” She gestures awkwardly toward him, and I want to pat her head and see if I can get her to calm down and take a breath. I reach across the counter and shake his hand.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” I say.

  “And you,” Mr. Peterson says. He sort of looks like Colonel Sanders without the mustache. He’s wearing a beige linen suit, has gray hair that’s almost white, and looks like a kindly old grandfather who would probably give you a pound of chocolate before dinner without realizing it was driving your mom bonkers to do so. “I was in the neighborhood and I realized I’ve never been in this store before. I thought I’d drop by and get a feel for things before the official tasting next week.”

  Shannon just keeps smiling. I sigh inwardly. The Mouth to the rescue.

  “That’s great!” I say. “We’re glad to have you. Is there anything I can interest you in? Our chocolate with peanut butter is particularly delicious today, if I do say so myself.”

  He chuckles. “I think I’ll take you up on that. Actually, while I’m here, I was hoping to get a peek at some of what you’re working on for your presentation! I know it’s not until next week, but I’m so interested in the process.”

  I blink at him. Shannon’s hands clench into fists behind the counter where Mr. Peterson can’t see them. Butter is over at the register checking out other customers, and Ben has moved off to the side and is rubbernecking the scene with an uncomfortable fascination while pretending to drink coffee. Liz is frozen in place by the espresso machine.

  “I’m... I’m sorry?” I look to Shannon and then back to him. “We don’t have any of the cakes we’ll be presenting ready right now, unfortunately. Although we will be doing a trial run later today.”

  Mr. Peterson’s face falls. “Oh, I was just hoping to see some kind of premise. I do so enjoy the artistic side of it all.”

  Shannon kicks me behind the counter. Hard.

  “Uh, well,” I stutter. “I do...oh! I do have my sketch pad. I’ve been working on drawings and stuff. And I’ve got, erm, some ravens made out of fondant. I’m not set on them yet, but I’ve been tinkering with the concepts.”

  His eyes light up. “Wonderful!”

  “Great!” I say, feeling nothing of the sort. “Excellent. Shannon, why don’t you tell Mr. Peterson about some of our most popular flavors and I’ll go get...what I’ve got.”

  “Absolutely!” Ethereal Shannon says.

  I head to the kitchen and cast a desperate look back toward Butter, Liz and Ben so that Peterson can’t see. Once in the back room, I flail my arms around helplessly. Shit, shit, shit. Grabbing my book off the desk, I tear it open and try to find any pages that have anything that would be considered showable to someone in a professional capacity. I find exactly nothing.

  I spew out a string of profanities, head over to my station and look through my pile of defunct ravens to find something I can show the man. Jesus, why did I ever think any of these were ever a good idea? I come across my little royal icing ravens, which looked amazing two weeks ago when I first made them, but are now looking a tad weathered. It’s still the best I’ve got.

  Oh god, Shannon is going to have a stroke right there at the counter when I come out there with this.

  This isn’t how this is supposed to happen. We are supposed to have all our recipes perfected and the art looking spectacular and Shannon will whisk it into the presentation and wow everyone with our mastery.

  Not me stumbling out there with my failed fondant and absentminded scribbles.

  An image of me abandoning the pile of ravens and scuttling out the back door like a coward flashes through my head. It’s a pretty damn tempting idea.

  But no. I woman up, grab the least disappointing-looking ravens in the group, pat my notebook in my pocket, say a prayer to the universe, mutter a few more curses and head back into the front room.

  Butter is tending to customers, watching carefully out of the corner of her eye. Liz has started moving again and is assisting as best she can. Ben is pretending to look at his phone. I say pretending because I can see the screen, and it’s not even on.

  “All right, Mr. Peterson,” I say in my best fake-confident voice. “I apologize for not having more to impress you with at the moment, but it’s a taste, at least.” I give him what I mean to be a friendly smile, but I think I overcompensate, and I’m pretty sure it’s coming off as flirty. I carefully line up the royal icing and fondant ravens on the glass countertop in front of him. “I’ve been tinkering with different ways to get a powerful statement raven piece onto the cakes and it’s been tricky, I don’t mind saying.” I give Mr. Peterson a wink, and now I know I’m coming off flirty. Dial it back, Mouth. “This isn’t quite what I’m hoping to go with, but it gives you a general idea.” I pull my pad out of my pocket and set it up next to the birds and start flipping quickly so he can’t focus on how not-spectacular most of the pictures are. “Visually, the raven presents a perfect focal point for a wow factor, but of course it’s equally about the flavors and the overall quality, I think you’ll agree?”

  He nods and smiles, but doesn’t look terribly blown away by what he sees. “Of course.”

  I’m losing him. I can see sweat forming on Shannon’s übertense brow. I slap my notebook shut. “Mr. Peterson,” I say firmly but with a pleasant voice. “I assure you, what we provide for the presentation, and what we hope we will get to provide to your fans as your official cupcake concessions seller, will be far superior to anything you are seeing sketched out in my little book here—or, quite frankly, anything you’re going to find anywhere. We’ll give you a product that not only represents who we are as a shop but also matches the quality and performance of your university and your team. You will not be disappointed with us, sir.”

  Mr. Peterson looks up at me, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable. Shannon is beside me holding her breath. Butter, Liz and Ben are all perfectly motionless at the other end of the counter. Hell, even I’ve stopped blinking.

  Finally Peterson smiles and lets loose a small laugh. Looking down at our display case, he says, “Well, I will say your selection is impressive, and everything looks absolutely delicious. What flavors you’ve used!”

  I exhale just a bit. “Why don’t you let me send you off with a little sample pack? The cupcakes we’re b
ringing you next week will be absolutely magnificent, but unfortunately, our blueberry doesn’t match up with your team colors, and I’d hate for you to miss out.”

  Shannon finds her voice. “Yes, let me box you up some of our favorites.” She wriggles past me to the display case and I step out of the way, all the while smiling at the old man.

  “Thank you, yes,” he says. “That sounds wonderful. And I look forward to seeing your presentation materials next week. I’m confident you’ll have something worth showing.”

  My eyebrows shoot up, but I try not to take his comment in the insulting way it sounded, but in the spirit of the kind smile with which he delivered it. Shannon hits her flow and starts describing our tasty treats, then quickly says, “Oh, Kat, could you check on that cake in the back for me?”

  What cake? She gives me a pointed look. Oh! She’s giving me a chance to flee.

  “It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Peterson,” I say with a serene smile. “I hope you enjoyed our little shop here.”

  “The pleasure was mine, dear.”

  Faux-serenity in place, I smoothly walk from behind the counter and into the kitchen, where I quickly lose all feeling in my legs. I lean against my workstation and pull in a shaky breath. This is fine. This is so super fine.

  I can still hear Shannon sweet-talking. The shop is nearly empty now, as the rush has finally dwindled down.

  Butter comes walking briskly through the door with... Ben?

  I pop my head up. “What...what are you doing here?”

  He puts his hands up. “I have no idea. She made me come.” He points to his tie, which is gripped tightly in Butter’s hand.

  “Butter, what in the hell?”

  “Are you okay?” she asks, eyes wide, still gripping the tie.

  “I’m fine,” I say slowly. “Now let go of Ben.”

  She looks down at her hand and seems surprised at its contents. “Oh,” she says. “Sorry.”

  Smoothing down his shirt, Ben looks at me awkwardly. “It’s okay.”