TRIPPED

by Jacob Chance

  The bell above the door chimes as I enter. “Is that my beautiful girl?” Mama Jo calls out from the back.

  “It’s me,” I answer, smiling. It’s almost impossible to be anything but happy around these two—even at six in the morning. They’re like the best grandparents you could have but magnified one hundred times. Since I’m not close with my own grandparents, Papa Lou and Mama Jo have filled a void in my life I didn’t even realize I had.

  The front of the bakery is bright, airy, clean, and smells sinfully good. Mama Jo cleans everything from top to bottom and there’s never a smudge to be seen on the glass display cases.

  The back room where all the delicious confections are created is where I find them both. The large space has two oversized butcher block tables in the center of the room and stainless steel counters and shelves line two long walls.

  “Good morning,” I say, entering the back.

  Papa Lou bellows out in his deep voice, “Good morning, piccola mia.” He’s been calling me this since the first day I began working here. It means my little one.

  Mama Jo comes over to me and wraps her arms around me. “How are you this morning?”

  I squeeze her tightly and kiss her wrinkled cheek. “I’m well, thanks. How are you?”

  She pats my cheek as she releases her hold on me. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be your age again. I’d make Papa Lou chase me all over again.”

  He looks up from the cake he’s frosting. “I chased you enough already. I don’t think I’d survive another round.”

  “I don’t think men chase women anymore. No one wants to put the effort in,” I say.

  Papa grunts with disagreement. “This is nonsense, piccola mia. If a man won’t chase you and work for your attention, then he’s not worthy of you.”

  “If that’s the case, there might not be any guys who are worthy of me. I guess I’ll have to join a convent,” I joke. Kind of.

  Sometimes it seems like I have impossibly high standards for the little amount of dating experience I’ve had. I know what I want in a man and I’m not sure I’ll be able to meet one who matches my high expectations. Which is kind of depressing. I’m behind the eight ball before I’ve really started.

  “What do you need me to do?” I ask, not wanting to waste time talking. I’m here to work.

  Mama Jo gives me a list of orders I need to fill for them. I need to box up three dozen crucifix cookies so they’re ready to go for an eight o’clock pick up. I grab three boxes, laying paper in the bottom of them. Placing a dozen cookies in each box, I spread them out and place paper between the layers so the silver icing doesn’t get ruined. Once I’m done, I label the boxes with the customer’s name and set them on the shelf designated for all our to-go orders.

  Papa Jo sings along to the radio while he works. Mama Jo is silent as she painstakingly frosts cupcakes. The sounds and scents around me are as familiar as being in the home I grew up in.

  Steadily, I knock out the list of items Mama Jo gave me. When the bakery doors open for business at half past seven, I’m behind the counter and ready to wait on customers. We have a steady stream of regulars who pop in on their way to work. Papa Lou’s delicious pastries and Mama Jo’s coffee are a big draw.

  After the first couple of hours, things start to slow down for a bit. I’m replenishing the pastry supply in the cases when I see a familiar face. “Clover, what are you doing here?”

  She smiles. “I need something amazing for breakfast and I remembered you telling me how great this place is.”

  Ironically, Relicious is closer to my apartment than it was when I lived at home in Watertown. I lucked out when a friend of my mom’s mentioned the job here.

  “You can’t go wrong with anything you choose,” I reply.

  “Hmm.” She bends over, peering in the display cases. “What’s your favorite thing?”

  “That’s a tough one because I have a lot of things I like. I’m partial to the zeppole and cinnamon rolls.”

  “Oh, damn, that icing on the cinnamon roll is calling my name. I’ll take one of those,” Clover says.

  “Just one?” I ask.

  She groans. “I was trying to be strong, dammit. Give me two.”

  I place the rolls in a bag and hand it to her. “Do you want coffee too?”

  “Yes, please. Or I’ll fall asleep in my class. Mr. Franklin drones on and on. He has such a flat affect too.”

  “This coffee is strong enough to put hair on your chest, so you should have no problem staying awake.” I hand over the cup. “I’ll ring you up over here.” I step over to the cash register.

  Clover slaps a twenty on the counter. “Keep the change.”

  “Thank you. I’m so glad you stopped in. Come back anytime.”

  “Are you kidding? I don’t know how I’m ever going to be satisfied with a regular donut or muffin again. This place might ruin me.”

  “Oh, no doubt. Just accept it as fact,” I say.

  Clover stops at the door to wave. “See you later.”

  “Bye.” I smile as I watch her until she disappears from sight. I’m glad we met. She’s been a good friend to me. Aside from bumping into Donovan, transferring to B.U. has been everything I hoped it would be.

  “Wakey wakey, Piper,” Rachel bounces on the edge of my mattress.

  “Go away,” I growl.

  She slaps my ass. “Get up. You’ve slept long enough. We’re going out.”

  “You’re mean. I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m staying home.”

  “Piper, I’m not taking no for an answer. Aside from hockey, we’ve barely seen each other. I need a night out with my best friend.”

  Opening one eyelid, I stare at her. “Is everything okay?” She’s right, we’ve both been busy and out of touch with each other. Maybe something happened and I missed it.

  “Yeah, I’m great. I still want to spend some time with you.” She smiles but something about it is off. It looks forced. Looks like I’ll be going out after all.

  Rolling to my back, I stretch my limbs straight out with a loud groan. “Coach beat our asses today. I’m sore all over.”

  Rachel rolls her neck from side to side. “You’ll feel better after a shower. It helped me loosen up.”

  Sitting up, I slip from my bed. “Where are we going anyway?”

  “C’s Pub.”

  “Good.”

  “You’ve been to C’s?” she asks.

  “Nope. But a pub means casual. Sweats sound good to me.”

  “You’re not wearing sweatpants out to a bar,” she states.

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “Because I said so and I’ll nag your ass the entire night if you do.”

  “Fine.” I roll my eyes before I close the bathroom door. All I want to do is stay home and relax, but sometimes being a good friend means going out when you don’t want to. Apparently, it also means not wearing what you want.

  “What do you think of C’s?” Rachel asks.

  My eyes scan the dimly lit bar filled with Boston University students. “It looks like every other bar.”

  “Cause you’ve been in so many,” Rachel teases.

  “I may not be an aficionado on the subject, but it seems like if you’ve seen one bar, you’ve seen them all.”

  “I wanted to get you out with me so I could talk to you about something,” Rachel mentions.

  “You couldn’t talk to me about it at home?” How does that make sense? We’d have more privacy back at our place too.

  “It’s a touchy subject for you.”

  “If you’re hinting around about Donovan, don’t bother. He is a touchy subject for me and you know why.” I can’t keep the scowl from my face. Rachel knows everything that happened between us and after I came home. Why is she bringing him up?

  “I do, but I think it would be helpful for you if you could find a way to forgive him.”

  What?

  “Rachel, where is this coming from? You’re the last person I expected to hear
this from.” I’m hurt by her sudden about-face. I can’t help but feel betrayed. She’s the one person who is supposed to have my back, no matter what.

  “Jeremy and I were talking--”

  “Oh, I get it. So you and Jeremy were talking about me. I’m not sure why you’d think I’d be okay with that with him being Donovan’s best friend and all.”

  “Don’t get worked up, we--”

  “Does he know what happened?” There’s no need for me to elaborate about what I’m talking about.

  “No,” she exclaims, placing her hand on my arm. “I promise you, he has no idea. I wouldn’t betray your confidence.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Donovan anymore. Can we just sit here and enjoy a few drinks?”

  Rachel looks conflicted before relenting with a sharp nod. “Sure.”

  Slowly drinking my margarita, I look around at the other patrons. How many of them have things from their past that they’d do anything to forget? Have they had their hearts broken? Did they fall for someone when they shouldn’t have? Did they talk themselves into ignoring the many red flags they saw because they were too busy romanticizing the situation?

  I can’t be the only one here who convinced myself that a boy loved me when that version of the boy didn’t really exist in the first place. I made Donovan into someone he could never be. I created a version of him he could never live up to. Maybe I shouldn't have put him on a pedestal. But he sure as hell fell off on his own.

  Taking a sip of my drink, I notice Rachel shaking her head at someone behind me and mouthing the word no. Peering over my shoulder, I watch Jeremy approach. As he gets closer, I notice Donovan following behind him. My stomach revolts at the sight of him, a wave of nausea hitting me.

  “I’m sorry, Piper,” Rachel apologizes. There’s no time for her to say anything else before Jeremy and Donovan are upon us.

  Snapping my head forward, I keep my back to them. That only works for a few seconds and then they drop into the two vacant chairs at the table. Of course Donovan ends up next to me.

  “Ladies, how’s it going?” Jeremy asks.

  “Good.” Rachel forces a tight smile.

  “That’s all you have to say to me, Jeremy? No ‘how have you been, Piper?’ I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

  Jeremy looks slightly shamefaced. “How are you, Piper? You look great.”

  “I was doing well,” I snip.

  “Hey, Rachel,” Donovan says. Is he trying to break the awkwardness up? If he wants to do that, he should leave.

  “What’s up?” Rachel fires back.

  “Piper.” Donovan nods my way. In reply, I hold up my middle finger and then down the rest of my margarita.

  I need another drink. Jumping from my seat without a word, I weave my way through the crowd and slide into an open space at the bar. This night just went to hell, and alcohol might be the only thing that can salvage it. I place my order and seethe with anger while I wait for my drink. I can’t believe Rachel manipulated me into coming out and then an unexpected bomb got dropped on me.

  Speaking of bombs… Donovan sidles up to the bar next to me.

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Donovan

  I have to make the most of any opportunity I get to speak with Piper. In a noisy bar surrounded by people might not be the ideal situation, but it is what it is. It’s better than not seeing her at all.

  Stepping up to the bar and slipping into the open space next to her, my arm brushes against her shoulder. I feel her stiffen at the contact and it reminds me that getting her to forgive me isn’t going to be easy. But I’m willing to invest whatever time and effort it takes to achieve the desired outcome.

  Leaning down I ask, “How’s everything going?”

  She stares straight ahead. “Fine.”

  At least she answered. I wasn’t sure she would, and now I’m already feeling encouraged. “How’s your mom doing?”

  Piper’s head turns my way and her expression is perplexed. I’m sure she’s wondering why I’m asking about her mom, but I’m just trying to find something she’s willing to talk about.

  “She’s good.”

  “Still living in Watertown?” I ask. Her eyebrows give a little jump, as if she’s surprised I remember. But I remember a lot of things that would surprise her.

  “Yes, she’s still there.”

  “How’s Chewy?”

  She smiles. “He’s great.”

  So Chewy is her weakness. Good to know. I happen to love dogs.

  “Does he live with you and Rachel or your mom?”

  “He’s with me. Our place allows dogs.”

  “You’re lucky. Most places in the city won’t.”

  “I know.”

  The bartender places Piper’s drink down on the bar. “I got it,” I say, handing over money before she can. “I’ll also take two Sam Adams.”

  “Thank you for the drink. You shouldn’t have bought mine.”

  “I wanted to.”

  “So you and Jeremy are still good friends?” she asks.

  “Yeah. We hadn’t seen each other since that hockey camp until he moved here at the end of last month.”

  “It’s good to see you kept in touch with someone.” She zings me. I can’t say I don’t deserve her shots.

  “He didn’t really give me a choice. He’s the reason we’re still friends. I’m not good at keeping in touch with people in general. Jeremy went out of his way to contact me.”

  “And all this time I thought I was special. I’m glad to learn I’m just one of the many you wouldn’t put the effort in for.”

  The bartender returns and hands over my beers. Piper walks away before I can say another word. I follow her back to our table, my eyes gliding over every inch of the rear view. If I could custom order the perfect body type, it would be Piper. She’s curvier in the hips than she used to be. She’s feminine but strong.

  Setting Jeremy’s beer in front of him, I lower into my chair.

  “Thanks, dude.” He holds his bottle up.

  I dismiss his thanks with a wave of my hand.

  “We saw your game the other night,” Rachel tells us.

  “We kind of sucked.” Jeremy’s reply is blunt.

  “I didn’t want to say anything,” Piper teases, looking at Jeremy. For a split second, I’m jealous of my best friend, all because she willingly joked with him.

  “We played well enough to win and that’s what matters,” I say.

  “We did get the win.” Jeremy clinks his bottle against mine. “Can we talk about the reason we’re all here?”

  My head swivels toward him. “I thought we were here to have a couple of drinks and relax.”

  He smirks. “That’s what I wanted you to think.”

  What is he talking about and where is this going?

  “Maybe this isn’t the best time to do this,” Rachel jumps in. She looks nervous.

  “Do what?” Piper questions. She doesn’t know what’s going on either.

  “Rachel and I were talking earlier today and we decided to get the two of you in the same place at the same time,” Jeremy fills us in.

  “Why?” Piper asks with a thunderous expression on her face.

  “If you guys can get along, we can all hang out together.” He grins like it’s the best idea he’s ever had.

  “Did it ever occur to you and Rachel that I might not want to hang out with him?” Piper hooks her thumb toward me.

  “Yes, it did. Jeremy and I realize it might take some time before the two of you can get along,” Rachel tries to reassure her.

  “There’s not enough time in all of eternity to make me want to hang out with him,” she says between gritted teeth.

  This is going well. Great plan, guys.

  “Hey, that’s my boy you’re talking about,” Jeremy defends me.

  Piper looks like she’s about to spit venom across the table at my friend. “I don’t care if he’s the president of t
he United States, I don’t have to spend time with him if I don’t want to.”

  Jeremy leans forward, bracing his weight on the table. “But we’re just--”

  “Let it go,” I cut him off. “Piper doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

  Rachel rises from her seat. “I need to go to the ladies’ room. Piper, will you join me?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good here,” she replies with a stubborn lift of her chin. Rachel must realize she’s not going to join her and she walks away.

  “Well, this has been great, but I’m going home.” Standing, she pushes her chair under the table and walks off without a backward glance.

  “What the fuck were you thinking, Jeremy?” I jump from my seat and follow Piper before he can reply. Stepping outside, I see her ahead of me hurrying down the sidewalk. “Piper, wait up,” I shout, but she doesn’t slow down. Picking up my pace, I catch up and match my stride with hers. “Do you need a ride home?”

  “Nope.” Her gaze stays focused in front of her.

  I shove my hands in the front pockets on my jeans to keep myself from catching hold of her arm and making her stop.

  “Let me give you a ride home.”

  “My legs work fine,” she fires back.

  “So do mine. I’ll walk home with you.” Bad things can happen to a woman walking alone in the city. I’m not letting her continue on by herself.

  She sighs loudly enough that I hear. “That’s not necessary.”

  Hands still in my pockets, I raise my shoulders in a small shrug. “It feels extremely necessary to me.” I switch sides with her before we pass a handful of loud, possibly drunk guys. “Thank you,” she says so softly I’m not sure if I imagined it.

  “You’re welcome,” I reply, moving so she’s on the inside of the sidewalk once more. “How far away is your place?”

  “It’s in Watertown.”

  “What?” I ask. She giggles and my chest feels funny. I forgot how much I love the sound of her laughter. I didn’t think I’d be hearing it again any time soon.