Rash and Rationality

by Ellen Mint

  “Aiden,” a voice shouted from the side. One of the many blondes appeared, wrapping her arm around the biceps of the one who thought he was funny. Or they probably both did. “Come on. We’re going to take some pics in the grotto.”

  “Okay,” he grumbled at her request but leered at Brandy the entire walk away.

  She held her head up, her spine straight as a rod, until they all vanished around the corner. Shit. Her legs trembled, knocking her hip into the table and causing the plates to tip. That had been too close. What was she thinking?

  Were all the men out here like that? Not just at the party but in the wide world? She’d been locked up behind doors of her own making for so long that maybe the entire gender had gone feral.

  No, Marty wasn’t like that. Not even in all the times he’d help her steady a ladder at work. He was always a gentleman about such things.

  And that’s why he has a perfect girlfriend while you’re miserably alone.

  “Whoa, girl.” Mel’s hand slapped onto the table, stopping the shaking. “What happened?”

  Brandy opened her mouth, but as she stared at her friend, she realized that if she told the truth, it’d only enrage Mel. Maybe make her spit fire and tear after the assholes. And her friend needed this job to go well. Not only for the money, but the word of mouth and reviews. “Just…nerves about being back.”

  Mel wrapped a comforting arm around Brandy’s shoulders, pulling her into a half hug. “You’re doing great. The pies are incredible. Such a flaky crust on something so tiny.”

  Brandy crossed her arms. “I didn’t think we were supposed to eat until everyone else was served.”

  Gulping at having incriminated herself, Mel drifted back and shook her head. “I was just trying one, for quality control. You know. Had to just make certain that it was—”

  “That I was up to snuff?” Her light jab turned back on her, Brandy shuffled her feet around. She’d have shaken off those two creeps like it was nothing in the old days. Now she didn’t even have the armor of ‘I have a husband’ to hide behind.

  “Oh, no. Not like that.” Mel was about to reach to comfort her again, when a loud shout for everyone to look their way echoed above the DJ.

  The voice sounded familiar and, as Brandy focused, she caught the willowy body of Janeth posing next to the infinity pool. Her barely-there breasts, which practically floated on her chest, were covered in a cute bikini top of rainbows, and the bottoms had a tiny unicorn. As heads all turned to find her, she scrunched one leg up and posed like a sexy flamingo.

  Phones whipped out, snapping pics of the beautiful woman. She extended her fingers out in the peace sign, laughed, then jumped into the pool. It was a sad cannonball thanks to her lack of mass, but as she re-surfaced, everyone gave a round of applause.

  “I didn’t think she’d be here,” Brandy whispered to herself. Did that mean Marty was too? The idea that she’d have to serve him crawled across her skin and she crumpled deeper.

  “She? Wait, is that…?” Mel pointed to the blonde star floating about the pool.

  “Yeah. Janeth Willows herself. How did you not know? You’re the one who follows her.”

  Mel shrugged. “People look different without the filters on. I knew it was a party for some fancy vodka brand—just didn’t expect them to pull in influencers. Are you okay?”

  That caused Brandy to scrunch her nose. She shouldn’t care. Janeth was famous for being pretty and taking good pictures. Because of that she got to lounge around at parties where people like Brandy served food. It wasn’t as if she wanted that life. Her selfie game was more abysmal than a cat that swiped at the screen.

  “Yeah, yes. I’m good. Great,” Brandy insisted, watching Janeth paddle through the water to the edge of the pool. That alpha-douche, her editor, stood by the side with a towel in his hand. As he helped Janeth out of the pool, he draped it over her shoulders because she was the sparkling talent.

  There were more pies that needed to be added to the table. Brandy turned away, prepared to walk back into the kitchen, but she couldn’t stop talking to Mel. “Why would I even care? Just because she’s dating Marty—”

  “Uh…” Mel slapped her on the arm. “Are you sure about that?”

  Brandy’s jaw dropped, as did Janeth’s…to accommodate the tongue that alpha-douche shoved down her throat.

  What the ever-loving fuck?

  Chapter Ten

  Oh my God!

  Brandy wrapped her hands around her face and crumpled into a ball, her butt bouncing against the oven door. She’d fled straight into the kitchen, leaving Mel to watch the two inspecting each other’s tonsils by the pool. Why was she overwhelmed with total embarrassment?

  Her skin itched along with the flush and, every time she took her blinders away, she’d curl back in on herself. Had Janeth spotted her? Would she say something?

  “Welcome back to the catering game.” Mel’s voice drifted through the dining room. Brandy rocketed up to her legs and tried to look busy by burying her hands in a pile of flour.

  “Are they still…?” She turned to look at her friend and a tear tumbled from her eye. A floured finger was about to wipe it away, but she had enough sense to use her forearm. What was wrong with her?

  “No, they finally disengaged and wandered off for more influencer brand time. You okay? I thought you’d be happier.”

  “Yes, I’m… I should call Marty.” She fished out her phone, smearing the case with flour prints. It took almost no time to find his name, but before she pressed on the number, Brandy clicked on the picture. He’d taken it during her first week at the store. A pair of felt antlers sat on his head, tiny LEDs dancing in a pattern along the decoration.

  It’d gut him to learn his ‘angel’ was anything but. Flat-out rip that smiling face to shreds. And who would he blame? Janeth for cheating on him or the person who’d told him everything, who’d revealed the rotten truth of his happily ever after? Why would he even look twice at the woman who’d ruined his perfect future?

  “Can’t get a signal?” Mel butted in. “I swear, something about these hills. You’d think it’d be nonstop hot spots with this many internet millionaires around.”

  “I was just thinking this is…something I should do in person. Try and soften the blow.” Brandy slipped her phone into her pocket. She had to tell him, she knew that. He needed to know, but there was a dinner to finish serving and a kitchen to clean.

  Mel loaded up their one cart with the dessert plates, leaving Brandy to stand awkwardly in the kitchen. “Don’t work yourself into a knot. It might come as a relief to him. God knows it wasn’t a pairing that would last. Look at her.”

  “Yeah.” Brandy sighed and peered through the tiny window nearly eclipsed by plants. She didn’t deserve him.

  It wasn’t until nearly one a.m. that they finished takedown, Mel pulling out all the elbow grease to leave the kitchen cleaner than they’d found it. Brandy tried to lighten her mood by talking to the other chefs about their schooling, but it’d come crashing down the second she heard Janeth’s voice. The back of her skull pulsed with a hot nail named ‘you have to tell Marty.’

  Mel closed the back of the truck and turned to the rest of the people who’d driven themselves. “The good thing about catering for skinny people paid to stay skinny…” She bent over and picked up paper bags overflowing with containers. “There’s tons of food left over. Thing one, Thing two?”

  The waiters frowned at her refusing to use their names, but were happy to take the food that’d easily provide two or three meals. “Were there any pies left?” one asked, his nose buried in the sack.

  “You’re more worried about those than my grilled chili salmon with lime crema?” Mel scolded, a hand on her hip. The men whose future were at her mercy gulped, but she laughed. “Yes, there’s pie. Though I had to hide a few to make certain. Next time, we should have an all-dessert bar, Brandy.”

  “I’ll…” She accepted her load, the heavenly but awkward scents of
fish, asparagus, chili and cherry all rising from her arms. “I’ll think about it.”

  Mel opened her mouth, probably about to argue, when she caught sight of the men still standing around. “Get out of here, already. I’ll call you for the next job.”

  That was enough for the culinary students living at the whims of any locals who needed help. They dispersed, leaving Brandy to catch a ride with Mel.

  “I do mean it. Next dinner, we do a full dessert spread. Really let you run wild. The pies were great—couldn’t get ’em out fast enough. But I know you can do better.”

  Could I? Brandy slid into the passenger seat. She made certain to buckle up and even adjusted the height on the belt so it fit her better. Mel was wilder, but at the sound of Brandy clawing her doggie bag, she too locked herself in and they were off.

  Behind them, the sounds of the ultra-wealthy and young carried into the night. Despite the day winding down, they were only getting started. The fancy wine and pint glasses had been replaced with Jell-O shots and plastic cups. She only risked one last look at Janeth, watching her down a beer with the best of them. The editor-douche lingered close, but neither gave a hint that they’d swapped spit before.

  Almost like it didn’t even happen.

  Upon reaching her apartment, Brandy thanked Mel for the opportunity and got a request for her help again. “I’ll think about it,” was the best she could offer. She was lucky this was a smaller gig, truth be told. Despite Mel’s constant assurances, Brandy was off her game. It had taken her far too long to complete what a good chef would have done in half the time. And Brandy knew deep in her heart that if it’d been any other chef but her friend, she’d have been yelled stupid for her incompetence.

  Holiday baking in the kitchen was nothing like working the line. What did it matter, anyway? She’d never have her own bakery again. Not without a miracle.

  She arranged the party food in her fridge. All the containers were color coded and labeled. Even in the darkest abyss, she couldn’t stop her need to date her leftovers—an organized kitchen was a godsend to a chef or baker.

  Marty’s fridge probably has a pet mold monster living it. He’d feed it every day. And name it Goose.

  Her heart pounded harder. Brandy laid a palm over her sternum as she felt the beats shatter through her body. She had to tell him the truth. About Janeth. Tell him that he could do so much better…than a beautiful woman who made gobs of money on her beauty.

  Better how, Brandy?

  Some low-rent, broken ex-baker?

  Why would he want chipped beef after he had steak?

  It wasn’t about her. It was for Marty. He needed to know before he got in too deep. Before she could back out, she pressed the Call button on his number. It rang three times, melting Brandy’s spine to butter.

  She was about to cancel when a groggy voice asked, “Hello?”

  “Hi! I…”

  “Brandy?” he asked cautiously. “Ah, says right there, Brandy. Guessing your party’s done. Hoping that’s the case and not that they decided to hunt you all for sport.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve seen Billionaire Hunter Island,” Marty insisted. “So, what’s up?”

  Tell him. Tell him that everything he thought he knew about his girlfriend was a lie.

  What if he didn’t believe her? What if he called her a liar and broke off their friendship? What if she did the right thing and it didn’t matter? Marty stayed with Janeth and she just kept right on cheating on him behind his back because she was his one and only?

  “I have leftovers,” Brandy said fast. “From the party. Lots of fancy food and I was thinking you might want to help me eat them before they go bad.”

  A groan rolled through the phone, causing her to grip harder to keep it sealed to her ear. “I dun… What did you make?”

  “Tiny cherry pies,” she said.

  “While I’d normally be out the door at the prospect of eating anything you made, I’m afraid one-forty-five in the morning is too late for my tender digestion.”

  Oh shit. She whipped her head over to find any clock. What was she doing calling him so late? Did she wake him up?

  Of course you did. You woke him up to devastate him.

  “Ever since I passed twenty-five, I swear. The eyesight’s starting to dim, bones are all rickety and brittle. Can’t eat anything after eight without turning into a—”

  “I’m so sorry,” Brandy shouted over Marty’s blathering to try and stay awake. “I had no idea how late it was. I shouldn’t have called you.”

  “Never apologize for offering me pie,” he said, causing her to smile and blush. But a great yawn over the phone sent her gut plummeting.

  “You should sleep. I should let you get back to sleep. I’m going to go.”

  “Thanks. Hey, did you have fun?”

  “I did.”

  “Then it’s all good,” were Marty’s parting words as the line went dead.

  She couldn’t do it. Brandy pressed her phone to her heart and sank to her knees. Her shirt smelled of salmon and limes, the fishy scent dragging her back to the party.

  Why did I have to see that?

  Marty was her friend—she wanted him to be happy. Janeth made him happy. So she should keep her mouth shut. Maybe they had some arrangement…

  No. Not Marty. She could believe that from Eldon before Romeo Dashwood.

  So tell him? Break his heart and hope that he’d finally see her as more than a…

  “This isn’t about you,” she cursed to herself. Knocking the back of her head against the stove, she stewed deeper into how she could both help and hurt her friend at the same time.

  Chapter Eleven

  A knock at the door woke her from a shallow sleep. Disoriented, she didn’t glance at the clock, or slip on a robe to cover her tiny camisole that did unspeakable things to her boobs. She didn’t even look through the peephole, just yanked open the door and found her jaw plummeting.

  “Marty?”

  His hair was drenched, those puppy-dog eyes wide as he wrung a hat in his hands. Had it rained?

  “You said something about leftovers,” he explained with a shrug.

  Brandy stepped back, letting him into her place. “They’re in the fridge.” She pointed to her kitchen as if he didn’t know, then frowned. “But I thought it was…it’s way too late for food.”

  His shoulder rose, turning the soaked-through white T-shirt translucent. She stared in wonder at his nearly naked body hiding below. Marty turned, revealing even more of his shirt that was so wet it suckered to every dip of his chest. Had he run through a waterfall? And why couldn’t she turn away?

  “Sounded like you wanted to talk too,” he said, finally ripping her from his pecs.

  “I, um…” Fuck. She wasn’t ready for this. And there he stood, dripping onto the floorboards, his concern growing.

  Closing her eyes tight, Brandy unleashed the bombshell. “Janeth was at the party tonight and I caught her kissing another man.” She puckered her face, too terrified to look at him. Would he start pacing? Rip his hair out? Swear vengeance and challenge the man to a duel?

  When nary a peep erupted from him, she risked a single peek through her lashes. Marty turned from her, leaving visible only the svelte line of his body where his cut stomach tapered into his hips. His face was hidden behind the soaked curtains of his hair.

  “I am…” Brandy reached out to him, cupping his shoulder. A surprising heat blazed off the wet cotton. “I’m so sorry.”

  Marty whipped his head around, his eyes burning coals as he advanced. Instinctively, she pedaled back, but could only go a step before she smacked into her counter. When a hand landed on her hip, Brandy gulped. Staring at the face of the man who should be shattering into a million pieces, she frowned. It was unreadable, his expression in shadows.

  But a slow growl rolled in his chest, one that shook her to the core. “Don’t be,” Marty said. The hand wrapped to her hip dug in to tug her from the counter, just
as he curled his palm around her cheek.

  Brandy could barely gasp before Marty’s face filled her vision. Using the tip of his thumb, he traced the edge of her mouth. Back and forth he went across the tender skin, until it started to tickle. “I’m not,” he thundered and pulled her to him.

  Lips of fire pressed to hers and he tousled her hair apart. Heat pooling straight down her spine, Brandy clung to this impossible kiss. As he knotted his fist around her fallen hair, Marty tugged her head to the side and delved deeper. He played with her lip until he could coax her tongue to greet his.

  She tasted his body, his being. He smelled of a heat wafting across a throbbing dance floor, of sweaty bodies twisting together in a sleeping bag. Brandy dared to wrap her hands around his waist, pulling herself deeper into his kiss.

  “I was so stupid to ignore you,” Marty said, his words whispering hot breath into her ear. She shivered at the touch. He puckered tender lips along the edge of her throat, each soft kiss trailing lower as he caressed his hands higher.

  Marty tugged on her camisole, exposing her soft belly to his palms. Slipping a hand below her shirt, he used the tips of his fingers to glide right under her breast. “Not that I ever ignored these.”

  Cupping around her boobs, Marty kneaded with his thumbs as he pressed his hips tighter to Brandy. She yelped at the surprising force, but gave in to him. With each massage of her chest, he ground closer, brushing his jeans against her tiny shorts. Even through the denim she felt him hardening, his pants straining around his rising cock.

  Brandy ached to run her hand over the top of it, to feel a man again. But she was frozen in place. What if she touched him wrong? What if—

  Marty yanked one of his hands out from under her shirt and rolled it behind her palm. With his thumb hooked around, he guided her straight to his crotch. He nibbled on her earlobe as he let her graze her fingers against him.

  “Oh.” A sharp moan burst from the man licking her ear. Her long-dormant libido ordered her to touch more. Twisting her palm, she tugged his pants up and down the shaft hiding below. “Fuck,” Marty gasped, his forehead crashing onto hers while he kept thrusting his hips closer.