Vanilla Beaned

by Jenn McKinlay

  The group approached. Mel tried not to fidget with the buttons on her blouse. She had no idea what to say to a woman who was that stunning, except maybe that it wasn’t fair, and instead of hogging all the good looks, Holly should consider passing them around. Yeah, that probably wouldn’t go over well because Mel was quite sure a note of bitterness would creep into her voice, keeping the sentiment from being charming.

  “Ms. Cooper,” Stuart said. “May I introduce your franchise investor, Holly Hartzmark, and her Realtor, Scott Jensen?”

  “How do you do?” Mel said.

  “Very well and you?” Holly replied. Even her low voice was sexy.

  Holly had a firm, warm handshake and she made direct eye contact, causing Mel to be the one to glance away first. The woman was too beautiful. Mel felt as if gazing upon her too long would render her stupid, as if Holly could put some freaky Greek goddess curse on her or something. It was a relief to turn to the Realtor. Scott gripped her hand a little too tightly and a little too long, and his eye contact ran like that, too.

  Mel addressed the group. “I’m so sorry my business partners seem to be running late. I can’t imagine what could have held them up.”

  “It’s Vegas,” Scott said. He was the quintessential thirty-thousand-dollar millionaire real estate guy with slicked-back hair, veneers on the teeth, Omega on the wrist, skinny-legged trousers, and pointy-toed leather shoes. If there was a cologne that reeked of cold hard cash, he’d be wearing it—heck, he’d probably bathe in it.

  “Yeah, well, I’ll just give them a quick call,” Mel said.

  Stuart made an impatient sound. Gray-haired and sour-looking, Stuart was a stickler of an attorney, which was why Tate liked him. Stuart dotted every i and crossed every t, and he was never, ever late. Mel had a feeling Tate would be groveling to more than just her later.

  Mel took her phone out of her purse and stepped away from the others. What she had to say to Tate wasn’t going to be polite. Tate answered on the third ring.

  “Where the hell are you?” Mel growled.

  Bells and chimes rang in the background, and Mel heard Angie squeal with delight.

  “She did it. She hit!”

  The sounds of cheering and laughing went on for a few seconds, and Mel felt her temper get hotter and hotter.

  “Tate!” she hissed. She could feel the eyes of the group on her, and she walked farther away.

  “I can’t hear you,” he said. “It’s too loud. Hang on.”

  “Tate, you had better get your butts to the lobby right now,” she said. “We are all waiting for you in front of the check-in desk. Where are you?”

  “Uh,” Tate stuttered.

  “Do not tell me that you are in a different casino,” she said.

  “I—”

  “Don’t.”

  “But—”

  “What do you not understand about don’t?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, Mel,” he said. “Look we’ll hop a cab and get back up the Strip in no time.”

  “Define no time,” she said.

  “Sorry, Mel, I couldn’t understand you,” he said. “It sounds like you’re talking through clenched teeth.”

  Mel opened her jaw wide to stretch it out before she spoke again so that her words were very clear. “I am going to kill you. I’m going to drag your sorry carcass out into the desert, pour honey all over you, and let the fire ants eat you.”

  “You’re angry,” he said.

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Mel snapped.

  “And you have every right to be,” he said. “We are so sorry. We just got carried away because . . . Vegas. Listen, go have drinks in the bar and we’ll be there within the hour.”

  Mel shoved her free hand into her short blond hair and pulled. The expression ripping your hair out suddenly made perfect sense to her.

  “No, I’m not going to entertain your guests,” she said. “We are going to press on to the property they are considering for the franchise—you remember, the reason we came here. And we’ll see if I think it’s appropriate or not, which will determine whether we are franchising or not. Capiche?”

  “Oh, no, you only use Italian when you’re really, really mad,” he said. “We are on our way. I swear. We’ll meet you at the property.”

  “Don’t bother.” Mel ended the call without saying good-bye.

  She tugged on the front of her blouse, bolstering her courage. If she was left to handle this, well, wasn’t it a pity if she found neither Holly nor the property they were going to look at suitable for a franchise? This might actually work out for the best. She smiled.

  She knew without checking her reflection that it was a devious smile, the sort that was usually found on an animated evil queen in a Disney flick. She was okay with that.

  “Tate sends his apologies,” Mel said as she rejoined the group. “He and our other partner, Angie DeLaura, were unfortunately detained and won’t be able to join us. If it’s all right with you, I suggest we go ahead and look at the property.”

  “Excellent,” Stuart said. He led the way to the doors. “It’s walkable as it’s just around the corner in a small shopping corridor.”

  Mel followed him, leaving Holly and Scott to bring up the rear. That didn’t last as Holly caught up with Mel outside.

  “Tate isn’t coming?” Holly asked. Her voice matched her looks exactly. It was low and soft and managed to suggest tangled bedsheets. It irritated Mel like the obnoxious bass beat being blasted out of a passing car.

  “That’s what I said,” Mel replied. Holly flinched and Mel cringed. She was not normally a mean person, but this woman looked like she knew as much about baking as Mel did about fixing cars, which was nil.

  Just because she had a lot of money didn’t mean she was capable of running a bakery. And if she was buying the right to use the Fairy Tale Cupcake brand, Mel was going to make damn sure she knew how to bake a frigging cupcake.

  “Tell me, Holly, what’s your culinary background?” Mel asked.

  She glanced at Holly and saw her bite one of her plump lips. She looked unsure of herself and Mel took a certain satisfaction in that. Looks aren’t everything, she thought to herself.

  “You have studied at a cooking school, correct?” Mel asked.

  “I, well, I don’t have any formal training,” Holly said. She was fidgeting with a ring on her left hand as if she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands.

  “Oh, huh, I’m going to be honest. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I consider cooking an art and science,” Mel said. She knew she sounded snotty but this was business, her business. “A high school home economics class is not really enough preparation to open your own bakery, don’t you agree?”

  By the blush that darkened Holly’s face, Mel knew she had guessed correctly. Holly had no baking experience beyond the minimum. Good grief, she probably wanted to open up a bakery because she thought cupcakes were cute.

  Mel pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, to ward off an incoming headache, and trudged forward. Well, at least when she said no to the franchise, Tate couldn’t fault her. Holly was no more prepared to own and run a bakery than Mel was to be the headlining act at the Blue Hawaiian.

  Stuart and Scott paused in front of a small, vacant shop nestled in a narrow alley of shops right off the Strip. There were throngs of people walking up and down the small walkway, and Mel knew Tate would look at the foot traffic as a good sign. Whatever.

  She glanced around at the other shops to see what sort of competition they’d be dealing with, but other than a frozen yogurt shop, there were no food places, just clothes and Vegas kitsch. Okay, so that was a point in the “to franchise” column, and now Mel was really glad that Tate had missed checking the place out.

  She would be sure to make it sound like it wasn’t all that. She glanced at the storefront.
It appeared to be under construction. The windows had boards over them, and the front was half painted a deep purple, as if whoever had started the job had run out of paint before they finished. The iron sign holder above the door was empty, as if just waiting for a new owner.

  Mel tried to picture her retro fifties atomic Fairy Tale Cupcake sign swinging right overhead. She shook her head. No, it didn’t fit in here. She was not buying into the franchise.

  “I have the keys,” Scott said. He took them out of his pocket. “I’ll need to go in and deactivate the alarm. As you can see, it’s centrally located on the street. There are no other comparable businesses in the immediate area. And just so you know, I already had a woman looking at this property this morning and she was very, very eager to lease it.”

  “Well, she’s in luck since it’s not really what I had in mind,” Mel said. She glanced at Holly. “None of this is.”

  Stuart gave her an odd look and then turned to Scott and motioned for him to unlock the door. “Let’s not decide anything until we see inside.”

  “Right.” Scott put the key in the deadbolt.

  “You know what, forget it,” Holly said. She put her hand on Scott’s arm, keeping him from turning the key. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t do this. I can’t do anything. I’m just a stupid showgirl and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

  With a sob, she turned and ran down the walkway toward the fountain in the center of the shops.

  “Huh,” Mel said.

  “What do you mean, ‘huh’?” Stuart asked. “If you were any colder to her, she would have frostbite.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

  “Sure you do,” he said. Stuart gave her a shrewd look. “Tate told me you were balking about franchising and I was prepared for a little resistance, but I didn’t think you’d be so mean.”

  “I am not mean,” Mel protested.

  “Really? Then why is she crying?” He gestured to Holly where she sat on the edge of the fountain, doubled over and sobbing into her hands.

  Mel felt her heart sink into her shoes. She was mean. No, even worse, she was a bully, and for no other reasons than she was scared of franchising and Holly was pretty. She was a horrible person.

  Four

  Mel approached Holly, feeling about as low as a cupcake heading for the floor frosting side down. She hadn’t meant to make Holly cry. She just wanted to keep her world in order—was that really so wrong? As she got closer, she tried to see Holly’s face. If the woman was a pretty crier, she really didn’t think she’d be able to offer her much comfort.

  Holly had her face buried in her hands and she was sobbing, not delicate little sniffles but deep-throated wails that sounded like someone was stepping on a duck, repeatedly, so that was promising.

  “Listen, I’m sorry,” Mel said. “I was being a big jerk and I shouldn’t have said what I did. You are probably nervous enough, putting your life savings into a bakery without me making you doubt your abilities.”

  Holly peeked at her over the tips of her fingers. “You were so mean.”

  Mel blew out a breath. She would have protested, but Holly and Stuart were right. She had been mean. She glanced over to where Stuart and Scott stood waiting for them. Scott was checking them out and licking his lips. Mel had a feeling he was thinking impure thoughts about them, ew, or maybe he just had a nervous condition.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized to Holly again, hoping to get this over with. “It’s just that this is more Tate’s thing than mine, and when I saw you, well, you really don’t look like a baker, and, oh, I have no excuse. I was just an ass. Can you forgive me? Can we begin again?”

  “Yes, of course, but where is Tate?” Holly asked. “I dressed like this because of him.”

  Mel felt her hackles rise, and now she had to rethink being nice to this bimbo. “You do know he’s engaged, right? In fact, he’s here with his fiancée, Angie DeLaura, who is our other business partner.”

  “Oh, I know,” Holly said. “I didn’t mean, oh, we are really struggling to communicate here, aren’t we?”

  She dropped her hands from her face and reached out to touch Mel’s arm. Mel was relieved to see that Holly’s makeup had smeared and the tip of her nose was red. She was not quite the blotchy beast that Mel turned into when she cried, but at least she wasn’t a pretty crier, either.

  “I’m not interested in Tate like that,” Holly assured her. “It’s just that I find men more manageable when I have all of my weapons strapped on.”

  “Weapons?” Mel asked. She looked to see if Holly was packing a gun.

  Holly gave her a wry look, then she pointed to each body part as she spoke. “Hair extensions, false eyelashes, padded push-up bra, Spanx, butt lifter padded panties—”

  “No, sir,” Mel protested.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Holly said and she spun around to show Mel her impressive gravity-defying booty. Then she jiggled it and turned back around and said, “Support hose, platform heels, a half hour spent contouring my face, and about five pounds of makeup. Seriously, if I ditched all of this and passed you on the street, you wouldn’t even recognize me.”

  “I am stunned,” Mel said.

  “And I am ashamed,” Holly said. “It’s just that this bakery is so very important to me. I’m a showgirl, you know, and I want to make a different life for myself. I thought all of this would help me negotiate with Tate or at least keep him distracted enough that he wouldn’t ask for my credentials, which of course, you did right away.”

  “That’s because all of this intimidated me,” Mel said, and she waved her hands at Holly’s overall appearance. She gave Holly a sideways glance. “Can I pinch your butt?”

  “What?” Holly laughed.

  “I just want to see what a butt lifter padded panty feels like.”

  “Why not? At least you asked first.” Holly shrugged.

  She spun around and Mel tried to figure out how to pinch her butt in public without looking like a perv. She settled for just jabbing Holly’s butt with her pointer finger. Holly didn’t even flinch. Mel figured what the heck and she pinched the other woman’s behind between her thumb and forefinger. Holly didn’t even register the touch.

  “Wow,” Mel said. “Just wow.”

  Holly turned back around with a smile. “They come in handy when you have to sit on a hard chair for any length of time.”

  “I’ll bet,” Mel said. They grinned at each other. “Well, should we try this again?”

  “I’d really like that,” Holly said. She fished a tissue out of her purse and used the reflective surface of her smart phone to see her face while she cleaned up her ruined makeup.

  “Hi, I’m Melanie Cooper, but everyone calls me Mel.”

  “Holly Hartzmark, a pleasure.”

  Mel gestured back to where Scott and Stuart were waiting. Scott had clearly settled in and lit a cigarette while Stuart cast him an annoyed look and moved away from him and his smoke while checking his cell phone.

  “So, what made you choose this location?”

  “It’s close to the Strip, but I think when you see the inside of this place, you’ll see the same potential that I do. It’s not huge but it’s big enough to start. We can always move when we get a following going and demand increases.”

  Mel forced a smile. Holly’s enthusiasm was a bit alarming, but Mel liked it so much better than Holly crying that she nodded and gestured for Holly to lead the way.

  When Stuart saw them coming, he turned and shouted something to Scott. Scott nodded and turned back to the door, unlocking it. Mel and Holly were still several storefronts away when Scott dropped his cigarette. He pulled the door to the shop open and was about to step on the cigarette at the same time, but there was a loud whoosh as flames shot up from the ground, covering Scott who screamed. Stuart dropped his phone and ran toward him,
yanking off his jacket at the same time, and he began beating the flames off Scott, who had fallen to the ground.

  The roar of an explosion sounded and the boards that had covered the windows blew out. Holly shrieked and Mel grabbed her and ducked down to the ground. Covering her head with her arm, Mel couldn’t move while bits of board rained down over their heads and clouds of dust and smoke filled the air, making her eyes tear and her lungs burn.

  When it stopped, she glanced up to see Stuart on the ground with the front door on top of him. She couldn’t see Scott. Smoke and flames shot out of the opening where the boarded windows had been.

  Mel waited until there was no more flying debris then she ran toward the storefront, shouting at Holly, “Call 911!”

  The other pedestrians in the area had scattered with screams and shouts. Several were on their phones calling in the explosion while others were filming it and taking pictures.

  Mel shoved the heavy wooden door off Stuart. He was unconscious with a gash on his forehead. But she didn’t see any other signs of injury. She quickly undid his tie and used it to bandage the wound on his forehead.

  Holly came running up to her. “The ambulance is on its way. Is he all right?”

  Mel checked Stuart’s pulse. “I think so, but I don’t want to move him in case of an unseen injury.”

  Holly nodded. “Where’s Scott?”

  They both glanced back at the doorway. There was a pile of rubble on the ground and a man’s hand was just visible.

  “There!” Mel cried. Holly ran to Scott while Mel grabbed a woman standing nearby, pulling her down beside her. “I need you to stay with him.”

  The woman crouched beside Mel, looking scared. “I don’t know how . . . what do I do?”

  “Just stay with him,” she said. “Talk to him. If he wakes up, call me.”