Cupcake Queens

by Darlene Everly

  “Ceecee? Can I use the bathroom when you’re done?” Olivia called from the other side of the door.

  Washing my hands in the sink, I tried to think of a way to tell her without telling her how bad it was. How I couldn’t get a plumber. But there was no way not to at least partially lie.

  “I’m sorry, Olivia,” I said, walking out of the bathroom and shaking my head. “A pipe is busted and I’m going to have to turn off my main water.”

  “Oh, Ceecee.” Her eyes got huge, and she looked like I just told her a tornado was outside. In Seattle. Actually it was only almost as devastating. “Let me call a friend of mine.”

  “Why?” Of all the things I thought she would say, that wasn’t one of them.

  “She works for a contractor. If she doesn’t know how to fix it, she will know someone who does.” She was already back to tapping on her phone.

  “No,” I said, my voice too loud and too rough.

  The look on her face was so concerned it almost looked like fear. Crap.

  “Sorry, I just mean that you don’t have to ruin your night for me. I can call my guy in the morning. I have to call an appliance repair guy for the fridge too. And I’ll call the building’s owner. It’s not a big deal.”

  Olivia cocked her head at me and narrowed her eyes.

  “I already texted my friend, but if you are that tired then I’ll have her come by in the morning. She’ll just fix the water, have a look at the fridge, and you can trust her. We’re friends. It’s what we do for each other.”

  “Thanks,” I said, wondering how much it was going to cost me to have such a good friend.

  Maybe my mother’s wedding ring.

  All I could hope was that it would be enough to pay off the repairs to the water and the fridge. Because after that, there wasn’t anything left.

  Theresa

  “So, tell me again why I just had to lie to my mother, drive myself here, and go to work rescuing some bakery tomorrow before any sane person should be awake in the morning?” I asked, leaning into Deacon’s side as he handed me another ridiculously yummy sugar glazed something.

  “Because the bakery in question is my favorite and made all the treats you’re shoving in your face,” Katie said, sticking her tongue out at me before popping a bite of some garlicky roll thing in her mouth.

  “And,” Olivia said, looking at both of us like we were naughty children. “You are a good person and want to be nice to my friend.”

  “Now you’re playing dirty,” Campbell said, leaning over to kiss Olivia.

  I shook my head and smiled. Those two were so cute it made me want to puke sometimes, but they were also two of the best people I knew and deserved to be happy.

  Especially after how I messed it up with Olivia when I was the one she was kissing.

  Campbell was an upgrade from me. Of that I was certain.

  “Fine, I’ll go, but I hope this friend of yours has more of these there,” I said, winking at Olivia who clapped her hands together.

  “Never play poker, Olivia,” Deacon said with a laugh that rumbled through his massive chest and shook me in my spot.

  “Oh, is that what you do when the season is over?” Katie asked, her eyes bright and a big grin on her face that made me sit up and put distance between me and her cousin.

  Deacon was a giant football player for the University of Washington, but I knew them both well enough to know that she was the one to fear. And weird, overly happy Katie, was definitely in the ‘this can only end badly’ category.

  “Um,” Deacon mumbled, going rigid, his hand holding a bite of some kind of bread inches from his face, suspended in the air. If it was possible for a black man to turn white, he did, his eyes darting around the room like he was looking for a way out.

  “I’m sure my dads would love to hear that.” She paused, her smile only growing wider, and Deacon already looked like he was going to be sick. “And so would your mom.”

  “No. No, I’ve only played it a couple times with the guys. Please don’t tell anyone. Katie, come on.” Deacon was stammering, leaning closer and closer to his cousin, his hands actually shaking.

  “Katie, come on. Leave him alone. You’re just messing with him,” I said, shaking my head and reaching for the binder of songs on the coffee table.

  “Theresa, geez, fine,” Katie said, raising her hands and backing away as if she was afraid of me.

  I looked around the room, even behind myself, trying to figure out what the hell she was doing.

  “You don’t have to punish me by singing something,” she said, and Olivia’s mouth popped open while Campbell cringed and Deacon recoiled.

  “What crawled up your butt, Katie? I know I’m tone deaf, but no one cares. It’s just us. First, you go after Deacon, and now me? Seriously, what is wrong with you right now?” Maybe I should have been a little less harsh because she wilted in front of me, her eyes growing watery with unshed tears. But someone had to call her out on this thing she was doing lately because it was miserable to be around her.

  Her mouth fell open and then worked around words that didn’t come out.

  The seconds grew longer, and I wasn’t sure anymore if I was the one who had crossed the line. By the looks on everyone’s faces, no one was sure what to do.

  “I…” Katie said, finally breaking the silence, her voice small and quavering, “I’m sorry. I…Um, I think I need to go home and get some sleep.”

  She stood up while the others begged her to stay, but she slung her bag over her shoulder, shook her head, and left.

  “That’s my cue,” Deacon said on a sigh, heaving himself up from the couch, “I would be in trouble if I didn’t go after her. I’ll see you guys later.”

  Biting my lip, I looked down at the piece of treat left in my hand. The idea of eating it curdled my stomach.

  “Well, I screwed that all up. Sorry guys,” I said, getting up from the couch, my knee twinging and getting stuck halfway up.

  Forcing my knee to extend the rest of the way when it got stuck was supposedly something to avoid, but my physical therapist and my surgeon weren’t there. And it happened at least once a day no matter how hard I tried to follow the rest of their guidance.

  Olivia winced as she watched the hitch in my process of standing, but neither her nor Campbell made a move to stop me from leaving. They just sat there looking dejected.

  Our group night at karaoke was a disaster.

  But damned if I could figure out any other way it was going to work out.

  Something was going on with Katie, Deacon was stuck trying to deal with it, Olivia and Campbell got lost in the shuffle, and I was not in a position to help any of them.

  Next time one of my friends suggested a get together, I would do them all a favor and stay home with my knee up.

  “Hey, Theresa,” Olivia said, turning to look at me as I opened the door to the private little karaoke room.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be there in the morning,” I said, before I walked out through the lobby. Rain pelted the windows outside, coming in sideways on a stiff wind.

  Great, limping my way to the truck and pulling myself up into it was already a chore. In the rain it felt like a cruel joke on me in particular.

  The sound of the wind, rain, and cars speeding past the parking lot on the street splashing water all around them, was louder and more discordant than even my singing would have been. But this was the only song I was going to get tonight.

  Once I hauled myself into the truck and shut the door behind me, I pulled my phone out of my coat pocket to make sure it wasn’t too wet.

  It was dry, but it also showed I had a message from Samantha.

  After almost a year.

  After no contact for over ten months since she walked out of my hospital room crying, I didn’t care what she had to say now.

  Eventually I might try dating again, but just seeing her name was enough for me to never again want to put myself in the position of loving someone enough that if it
didn’t work out it would crush me.

  I dropped my phone into the cup holder of the truck and grabbed my braced knee, situating it more comfortably to the side of the pedals before starting it up and pulling out of the parking lot.

  There was no great way for my leg to sit while in the truck, and I still had to climb the steps to my room in my mom’s house when I got home. It made me tired just thinking about it.

  Life made me tired at the moment.

  My mom would say I was being self-pitying, but so what if I was?

  I had to move back in with her, work for her, drive a company vehicle, and pretend I wasn’t crushed that all my plans and dreams for my future were as torn apart as my knee?

  Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.

  What was going to happen was ice, jammies, and sleep before I had to wake up too damn early to hobble my way to Pike Place and help Olivia’s friend.

  At least I might get a cinnamon roll out of the deal and then go home to sleep.

  Now that sounded like a life plan.

  Cinnamon rolls and naps.

  But I had no idea how to make that my reality instead of this constant pain in my knee, the giant stupid truck, and a job that didn't quite fit.

  Ceecee

  Nothing fit, or at least it didn’t fit comfortably.

  I threw my stupid dress back into my bag of clothes and decided that it was Saturday, so it didn’t matter what I wore.

  My mom would have been pissed at me for not even trying to wear something business appropriate, but I no longer cared. Something had to give. I had to stop worrying about all the ways I needed to be and all the things I needed to do for my mom until I took care of the most important thing. Until that was done, none of the rest of it mattered anyway.

  Even if I could still shove my thighs into something, or button a shirt over my stomach and my boobs, it wasn’t like I could afford the cost of dry cleaning anyway. My nicest clothes taunted me from the box they were packed in. A box I should have dropped off in the covered area outside the shelter where I hauled a bunch of my other things to. But I just couldn’t let go of them. Not yet.

  Even after staying up far too late taking care of things and bustling my world around the city, I still had to leave behind my couch and my dresser. I couldn’t carry them by myself.

  And no one knew what I did.

  What had to be done.

  I couldn’t let them.

  Stress might not kill me—even though it felt like it might as I stared into my bag of limited options—but it was certain death to my wardrobe.

  The timer on the oven sounded and I threw on an old t-shirt over my leggings. I was out of time to worry about my stupid clothes.

  My racks of trays were filled with the treats and goods for the day. The last of my trays were going to have to go directly to the cases out front. That was fine. They were all full of cinnamon rolls anyway.

  Of all the items we sold, making extra cinnamon rolls was always a good idea, and I needed the money.

  A random idea popped into my head. I thought had the potential to sell as well as the cinnamon rolls. This time it was maple cinnamon rolls. But coming up with an idea I thought had potential, like lemon zucchini bread with glaze on top, or the blueberry ricotta rolls, wasn’t the problem. The problem was the time, resources, and money it would take to make it work. I had to work with what I had that sold, even though the ideas kept on coming. And it had been happening for months.

  But just like every time before, I shoved it aside and focused on the giant list I needed to complete that was already sitting in front of me.

  Glancing up at the clock on the wall, I tried to guess how much time it would take me to finish, but I was too tired.

  Running on three hours of sleep was not working for my brain.

  All I knew was that I had twenty-seven minutes until we opened. It was going to be close. And I needed to shut down early because there was no way I was going to be able to make it to closing.

  If we did everything right, there might be time for Marcus to run next door and pick us up some coffees.

  My kitchen was a mess. All of the ingredients that needed to be kept cold were packed in ice in every cooler I was able to get my hands on—which meant piles of coolers in every corner of the kitchen.

  Hopefully, Olivia’s friend would be here soon to help with the situation, but the refrigerator was ancient. I didn’t have much hope.

  Taking the cinnamon rolls out of the oven, I took a deep breath full of their perfect balance of spice and sweet before drowning them in icing.

  Everyone loved the rolls once the icing was thick on top and dripping down the sides, while I preferred them right before that. Hot, fluffy, and full of flavor.

  But I couldn’t take the time to eat one, not when I still had so much to do before I opened.

  A knock sounded on the front door, and I cursed under my breath.

  Of course, someone would come early today when I was still scrambling.

  Instead of answering it, I bustled around the kitchen, finishing the last-minute items on my list before I started to transfer everything to the front cases.

  I had no idea when I was going to get a chance to clean up all the dishes, the trays, the counters, the ovens, and the floors, and not be so exhausted I wanted to curl up in a corner and pass out. I had very little hope of that moment coming anytime soon.

  As it was, I was for sure going to need to wake up early tomorrow to head to the Y to take a shower. It was already too much to add another time-consuming task to the morning work I was putting off until tomorrow.

  I muttered more curse words, hoping my mother wasn’t a ghost and therefore couldn’t hear me.

  When, exactly, was I supposed to fix the toilet? When was I supposed to go get groceries? Where was I going to put the groceries if Olivia’s friend wasn’t able to fix the fridge?

  The back door opened and Marcus came in, bringing with him the rain and a chill wind that cooled off the hair along the nape of my neck where I was starting to sweat from so much hurrying.

  “Get in here. Someone is already at the front door,” I said over my shoulder as I ran past him and placed the last of the cinnamon rolls in the case.

  “Alright, alright. Jeez, keep your pants on…” His voice cut off suddenly and I turned around to see what the issue was.

  He stood in the hall with his apron still not tied and his head cocked to the side with one eyebrow high.

  I looked around me and couldn’t spot what the issue was.

  “Sweetie, did you put your makeup on in the dark?” he asked.

  “Oh, crap.” I deflated, because yes, I had. I was still half asleep and didn’t want to clutter up the bathroom because he couldn’t know where I was living now. “What did I do?”

  Biting his lips and trying to suppress a laugh, he said, “You used purple lip liner as brow pencil.”

  “Ahhh! Oh lord.” I pulled off my gloves, suppressing further screams, and ran into the bathroom, scrubbing my face of the ridiculous color. It only partially worked.

  I darted from the bathroom to the office, shutting the door behind me and dragging in a deep breath before I grabbed my makeup bag and tried to fix my face. No matter what I did, my eyebrows still had a more reddish cast to them than normal.

  “Damn it,” I said to the empty room. There wasn’t time for me to do anything else. I was just going to have to look mildly ridiculous for the rest of the day.

  Rushing out of the office, slamming the door behind me again, I skipped going to the front and went directly to the kitchen, getting more trays to put into the cases.

  But the trays weren’t all I had to do. I needed to find an apron before I opened the door.

  “Where are all the aprons?” I called, running back to the kitchen after dropping off the trays for Marcus to take care of.

  “They’re in the bin by the door. I washed them all last night. Why are you running? We still have twenty minutes,” Marcus said,
his normally perfect looks marred by the fact that his face was screwed up to the side like he was starting to worry about me.

  “Can you get the door please?” I didn’t wait for him to answer, just headed to the aprons and started to don mine. The people who came before we opened might have been irritating, but they were some of our best customers. I didn’t want to piss one of them off.

  I snapped the apron string trying to yank it back around to my front too fast.

  “Damn it,” I muttered. I meant to drape it over the side of the bin but wasn’t paying close enough attention and it slipped to the floor.

  Bending over and trying to snag it out from under the bench the bin rested on, I heard Marcus open the front door and the low tones of him talking quietly with someone while I kept grumbling.

  Finally, my hand closed over the fabric of the apron, and I pulled it out as I stood up.

  Too fast. I stood up too fast after bending over and not enough sleep.

  Someone stood in front of me, but it was impossible to tell if it was Marcus or not.

  The edges of my vision shrank inward, narrowing my wobbly view, and then all I could see was the ceiling.

  Theresa

  I was soaked, cold, and my knee was already screaming. Damn good start to the day, limping my way down the hill into Pike Place Market to get here with my toolbox and tool belt weighing me down. Olivia owed me huge.

  Marcus, the guy who let me in the door, was yammering on about something to do with opening and that I really needed to talk to Ceecee.

  “So, where is Ceecee?” I asked, aiming for jovial and winding up sounding closer to surly. Which…was probably more accurate anyway.

  “Right back there. Walk on through,” he said, starting to fuss with the signage at the front and a little table and chairs to the side.

  Okay, I guess that was all the direction I was going to get.

  I walked back around the glass-fronted cases filled to bursting with heavenly smells and items that made my mouth water.