Bake Me Crazy

by Skylar Dawn

  Bake Me Crazy

  SKYLAR DAWN

  Copyright © 2018 Skylar Dawn

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  For the creative souls who once thought "I will write a book" and all others who, every day, include them in their hectic lives.

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  i

  1

  Bye Bye Brett

  Pg 1

  2

  Detox Lab Rat

  Pg 8

  3

  Murderers and Neighbors

  Pg 23

  4

  The Spider Exterminator

  Pg 32

  5

  Cheesecake Factory

  Pg 52

  6

  Ready, Set, Pole

  Pg 74

  7

  Hot and Naked

  Pg 89

  8

  Rehearsal Gone Wrong

  Pg 105

  9

  The Date That Wasn’t

  Pg 119

  10

  The Naked Baker

  Pg 136

  11

  Oops I Did it Again

  Pg 166

  12

  No Sin in Sin City

  Pg 178

  13

  Naked Truth

  Pg 193

  14

  Viral Love

  Pg 201

  15

  The Strip

  Pg 215

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Without my friends Marzipan and Macaron the final push to finish this story would not have happened. The fact they would be the first ones to read gave me butterflies.

  I also have to mention everyone who once heard me say I was going to write a book and took it seriously. You are crazy.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Bye Bye Brett

  "Watch me,” my fingers tightened on the second floor windowsill so hard I could tear it apart, “I'll be beautiful, with flowing hair, rosy cheeks and designer clothes, you idiot!”

  "Seeing is believing muppet," Brett chuckled from the sidewalk. "You're many muffins away from fitting into anything with a single digit."

  Another jerk out the door, and my chances to find prince charming were getting smaller by the minute. I could skip the whole horseback riding thing. At this point he could ride a bike, show up on a skateboard, or he could text or email me. That's what technology is for.

  I knew I should have started dieting after New Year's Eve, but things were going well, my size was the same, I was in an almost serious relationship and didn’t need to play Adele's CDs on repeat. Of course, Brett wasn't perfect, but he liked sex and ... well, it was all about sex anyway, but he attended double dates and family dinners, not to mention he was very attractive to the eye.

  Too many eyes by the way, especially the ones of the upstairs neighbor, a majestic olive-skinned woman bearing a generous frontal situation that I found giving him a hip lock on the service staircase this morning.

  I've always been a magnet for jerks. In second grade was Vinny, who invited me to play during break every day, but all he wanted was to stick chewing gum to my curly hair. The damage was so bad that I had to cut a huge chunk of it. That means I spent the whole year looking like Michael Jackson on the cover of Thriller. Then there was Roger, my neighbor. He only appeared on Halloween, which was already a sign that he was at least a small scale poltergeist. The boy was ten years old and had a strange fixation on ballerina skirts, and of course, the most accessible one for him to try to lift up was mine.

  So I took some time off, you know?! I only paid attention to the opposite sex when the handsome high school quarterback invited me to prom. Of course I didn't noticed anything wrong with that, after all you spend your whole life feeding on absurd fantasies of perfect princes with superhero bodies. Then we enter the stage where we spend the day watching teenage romantic comedies believing it is normal for the hottest guy in school to fall in love with the weird girl in the science class. At the end of the day we discover that it was a bet with the football team to see if he could take you to a private party after the dance in a hotel room. Spoiler alert: that part where he finally finds out he's in love with you, and runs after you all over the city, apologizes, promises eternal love and gives you that cinematographic kiss is bullshit, it never happens.

  In college it wasn't much different, when the first disheveled guy on a plaid flannel shirt decided to play an old guitar and sing half a dozen songs with four chords, there I was imagining it was going to last forever. Until I found the entire repertoire distributed in private shows for several other audiences, and worse, to see that I had the most bland songs on the entire list. It could only be punishment, I had something that fired their easy target radar within a hundred miles.

  "Dork face," Mia yawned on the other end of the line.

  "Good morning to you too," I took a sip of coffee and opened the refrigerator looking for comfort. "This time it was Valentina, with that pair of long legs."

  "The hot fourth-floor neighbor?"

  "Whose side are you on?" I protested. "But she has long legs, that's a fact," I huffed. "Can you believe he had the guts to call me fat?"

  "Emma, even if you were a bikini model or an exotic dancer in Vegas, it would never please a guy like Brett. He vouches for quantity not quality. I've been saying this over and over, let's find a fortune teller, witch, priest, whatever. Your jerk-o-meter broke years ago, or this is some kind of dark voodoo."

  "You know what ?! That's exactly what I'll do."

  I hung up the phone in a thud. Who did he think he was to stipulate beauty standards? Everyone knows I need to lose a couple pounds, maybe ten ... okay, fifteen, but every woman I know wants to lose a little weight, but can't completely ditch the chocolate cheesecake from the nearby cafeteria. By the way, the one next to my apartment has an exceptional mixed berries pancake, and they even add extra syrup. Anyway, Brett was a jerk. Just because he had very nice, defined, delicious abs and a sexy stubble he believed he could dictate the size of my jeans? No Way! He had no right! Had he ever heard of girl power?

  But that wasn't going end like this, in respect to all women of the world and my wounded ego, I had to teach that asshole a lesson. Mia was right, nothing would please Brett. It doesn't matter if he picked a bikini model or an exotic dancer, me, or anyone else. Then in a sudden moment of clarity, I took my suitcase from the top of my closet, opened it on the bed, and shoved all the aesthetically acceptable clothing I had inside of it. And my little piggy. No, I don’t have a piggy bank, how ridiculous! Piggy is the name of my credit card! So adorable, with two circles in the middle, like a snout with a deviated septum, and with a fat credit limit that would guarantee two uninterrupted life spans to pay a single bill. Brett thought my way of naming everything was ridiculous. In fact, it was hard not to see him criticizing something. He and himself alone escaped his own sharp tongue. But I was going to make him regret it at the right time, but for now, what I needed was a ride.

  "Mia?"

  "What's wrong with you?" She scolded me on the other side of the line. "Why did you hung up on my face?!"

  "I need a ride, I'll follow your advice."

  "Has common sense finally reached you?" She joked, "I know a great psychic."

  "A psychic?"

  "To dispel your voodoo," she sighed.

  "Are you crazy?! I'm going to Vegas."

  #

  Twenty minutes later my best friend parked her silver Volvo in front of my building, outraged.

  "I can't believe you're going to make such a fool of yourself because of that jerk!"

  "It's not because of him," I argued, "it's in defense of the honor of the female population."

  Mia frowned.

/>   "Who do you think you are fooling with this speech? She stared at me with her brown eyes steaming with anger.

  "It's true," I protested. "We have an obligation to change the world, even if it is one jerk at a time."

  She started the car and got into the morning traffic. Her expression was a mix of concern and disbelief that reflected on the intensity applied to the accelerator pedal. I knew I should have gotten into a cab.

  "Emma, your logic makes no sense whatsoever. What the hell are you going to do in Vegas? Party alone and find another Brett? And worse, drunk and married?!"

  "Of course not," I shook my head, "I'll teach this Brett we know a lesson!"

  "But how?"

  "I told you, I'll follow your advice."

  "What advice was that?" She snapped. "I told you to go to a psychic."

  "Psychics are for crazy people Mia. You gotta stop watching tarot videos and astrological charts on the internet.” I shook my head. “I'm going to be an exotic dancer."

  Mia stopped the car at once and I stood two inches from banging my forehead on the dashboard.

  "Hey, watch out! If I hurt my face I won't get any jobs in that area! And let's face it, the rest needs serious improvement."

  "Stripper?" She shouted. "Are you going to become a stripper?"

  Cars honked behind us as if there was no tomorrow, but she didn't give a damn about that and stood in the middle of the lane. Whenever she reached her inflexible mood, there was no way to bring her back in a timely fashion..

  “Mia, move! Can’t you hear the noise?” I covered my ears.

  "You wear front buttoned bras because you can't even open the normal clasp, how on earth are you going to be a stripper? And the last time you decided to dance we ended up in the hospital at four in the morning to patch you up with twenty-two stitches."

  "I skipped stretching before the dance, that was it," I replied.

  "It was Macarena," she shouted.

  The line of cars grew along with the impatience of its drivers until the guy driving the the pick-up right behind our car marched towards us and and tapped on Mia's window twice.

  "Is everything okay, lady?"

  "Of course not," she shouted as she opened the window. "This crazy woman over here decided she's going to be a stripper in Vegas!"

  "Exotic dancer," I corrected.

  "Does it matter?” She turned to face him. "What's the difference between exotic dancer and stripper?"

  His face turned red.

  "I don't know," he muttered. Mia made that annoying face that only she knew how to do it when she was sure she was one hundred percent right and pointed her finger at my face.

  “See that? He doesn’t know!” The she turned to face the guy at the window. “That’s the problem!”

  “I see. But I meant with the car.”

  "Oh sure," Mia blushed. "Everything is fine, thank you."

  She started the car again and the honking stopped. Mia didn't say a word until we reached the airport, but she seemed to hold a wild conversation in her head, gesturing all the way there. It was typical of Mia to fight me and continue helping even though she disagreed with my actions, and I didn't want to prolong that fight anyway. I stuck my nose out the window and pretended this whole madness had nothing to do with me. Sooner or later she would understand. After all, women all over the world depended on me and my plan.

  "Thank you," I kissed her on the cheek and opened the passenger door. "I’ll text you when I get there."

  Mia gave up arguing. She shook her head and flashed me a smile like the one mothers do outside elementary schools when their skinny, nerdy child is walking to his fate in the lair of popular, over-sized lions too big for their ages.

  "Are you sure you don’t want to go to the psychic instead?"

  I opened the car door and jumped out.

  "I’m sure. But if I find one in Vegas I'll make an appointment to make you happy."

  "You promise to be careful?" She leaned closer to the passenger window.

  "I promise," I winked. "Everything will be fine."

  CHAPTER two

  Detox Lab Rat

  I would trade my kingdom over a fast and stable internet connection, which in fact already eliminated all the crowded cafes around the Strip, especially early in the afternoon. I walked a couple blocks, feeling lucky, and right there between a store of beautiful handbags that would cost me my two arms and a kidney, and another one of designer pants that only fitted my little finger, stood a wooden doorframe adorned with colorful flowers and the sign of Eden, free wifi.

  I sat down on a small table near the door, closer to the counter. Before I could push my suitcase into a corner, a skinny man with charcoal black hair ran to help me. He was in his mid-thirties, but his skin was so perfect it made mine wrinkle in shame. I made a mental note to ask if he had a cosmetologist.

  "Welcome to Lou’s Cafe," he pulled the chair for me to sit. "And I'm Lou, nice to meet you."

  "Emma Woods."

  "So what can I get you today, Emma? A Latte? Cappuccino? Muffin? Brownie? Cake? Anything," he sighed. "Since no one walks this far anyway."

  There was no one else but me inside the Caffé. Lou was so defeated that I didn't dare to use his wifi without eating anything, and let's face it, the tiny salty peanut package from the airplane was enough to start my appetite. I opened the menu decided to celebrate my arrival.

  "Two croissants, a cappuccino, a slice of black forest cake and the wifi password please."

  "Right away!" Lou ran to the counter and snatched a pink post-it from inside a drawer, handing it to me. He then hid behind the counter to prepare my order.

  I opened my browser hoping to find a place to stay, but I didn't even know what exactly I was looking for. The fact is, I needed a job and a bed, not necessarily in that order. I found a few listings, but the prices had so many zeros that even my piggy wasn't able to handle it. I thought I should ask Lou, since he knew the city way better than I did.

  "Lou? Do you to know where I can find an apartment on a budget?"

  He walked over to my table with my order ready. He raised his eyebrows and his finger as if he had an epiphany.

  “May I?” He pointed to my laptop.

  "Of course," I took a generous bite of my croissant.

  "Search on this website here, I bet you'll find something that suits you."

  At least these prices would avoid my physical dismembering or organs selling. It's true some addresses were far, but I couldn’t afford to be picky for the time being. Since Lou was bringing me luck, I decided to push a little further and ask if he also knew about a part-time job, after all, I still had to go through a lot of preparation to become an exotic dancer.

  "Lou, do you happen to know about any available jobs? Anything is fine."

  "Girl," he muttered, "if people crowded this place, there would be room right here. But unfortunately I don’t know."

  "It’s alright, thank you."

  I turned my attention back to my laptop and summoned all my luck before clicking on one of the apartments on the list, but before I could let go of the search button, the Caffé door opened, distracting me. A millenial kid wearing jeans on his knees and displaying a fashionable hairstyle entered, definitely announcing he was there.

  He turned to Lou behind the counter, "What's the wifi password dude?"

  Lou handed him a piece of paper like the one I had.

  "May I get you a coffee?"

  "Yuck," the kid frowned and walked over to one of the tables, throwing himself on a chair. "Only the internet man, thanks."

  Lou rolled his eyes and made himself a cappuccino. His Caffé was very charming, with brand new wooden tables adorned with colorful flowers like the ones at the door. It also had an entire wall for people to draw using chalk and it was not because I was hungry, but the croissants were delicious. Definitely he didn’t deserve the disdain of a millenial armed with the latest iPhone model without a data plan to the point of having to take advantage of
free wifi. Okay, I was going to do the same thing, but the situation was quite different, and it wasn't right for a kid with a popstar hair to do that, either.

  That's when I realized that with his back turned to me he was a lot like that teenage singer, Gustin Nieber, and I had a brilliant idea. I took my phone, snuck in between the tables and took a bunch of hipster pictures without the millennial noticing. Now what I needed was a list of hashtags, a social network and to get the kid of of the Caffé.

  "Pssst Lou," I whispered.

  Lou leaned on my direction, balancing his weight using one hand.

  "Why are we whispering?"

  "Turn off the Wifi."

  Lou raised an eyebrow and faced me.

  "But what's that for, Saint Merlot?"

  “Trust me.”

  As soon as the yellow exclamation of connection failure appeared on my laptop, Nieber jumped from his chair.

  "Dude, the internet died."

  Lou bent over as if he was going to fix the router, pulled a couple of wires and shook his head.

  "It looks like it's really dead, it won't be back anytime soon."

  The kid stepped out of the Caffé, with his cellphone over his head looking for free internet. He took a couple of steps to the right and then ran off to the left as if he had found the golden pot at the end of the rainbow.

  "You can turn it back on Lou," I said opening my social media app for photos.

  “What are you up to?” He asked from behind the couter.

  "You'll see," I pressed the send button and walked up to the him. "And you're going to need help."

  There was almost no time to finish my sentence before a horde of hysterical girls got into the Caffé looking for Nieber. I looked at Lou and smirked.

  “Follow my lead.”