“For what?” Neve frowned. “I haven’t committed to anything yet.”
“No, but thanks for not saying it depends on what the event is.” Judy leaned back in her chair and brought her hands together, picking at her nails. “I’m planning a birthday party for my best friend. You know Little Dude’s, the lesbian bar? That’s where we’re having it.”
Neve nodded. She’d heard of the place from Terri, but never patronized it. She wasn’t the bar type.
“Rachael is out and proud. In fact, she officially came out on her eighteenth birthday, so it’s like an anniversary as well. Originally I wanted to have a cake made with the rainbow flag or maybe some rainbow cupcakes but,” a deep sigh, “three places said they wouldn’t do it.”
“I’m sorry.” Neve didn’t want to pry. It wasn’t her business which bakeries had turned Judy away. Though she had to wonder, also, if the reason was more because of short notice.
Judy shrugged and the side of her mouth quirked up. “Anyway, Maggie McCray is a friend of mine on Facebook, and when she posted that you were doing her wedding cake, I checked out your page. I can pay you in advance. I passed the hat around to some of Rachael’s friends and I can get more if the final price is over what we have in pocket.”
The fresh aroma of brewed coffee soon filled the sales floor, and Neve again offered Judy a cup—this time she accepted. As Neve prepared two mugs, she contemplated Judy’s dilemma and imagined she couldn’t be the only service in town willing to bake cakes for gay people. Amazing how it took one public announcement to stir up a hornet’s nest of homophobia, and for what? Neve didn’t ask her customers who they slept with or loved, so why should other customers care?
She set down the mugs and resumed her seat after Judy turned down cream and sweetener. “Okay then,” she said. “What’s the time frame and how many people do we have to feed?”
“I have thirty confirmed, but here’s the thing—it’s Sunday.” Judy bit her lip.
Oh Lord. “Sunday night, I hope?” Judy nodded, and Neve added, “Well, that’s a bit better. That would give me two and a half days instead of just two.” Neve closed early on Saturdays, but she supposed she could recruit Terri to help with the promise of extra pay. “Let’s get out the photo albums then,” she said, “and you can look at cakes and cupcakes and other desserts we offer. I really need to get started on today’s stuff, though. If that crowd comes back in full force, I’ll need product in the display case.” Terri wasn’t due for nearly an hour. Neve thought of texting her to check her willingness to come early.
“Oh, thank you so much!” Judy seemed to want to say more, but she simply turned her attention to her mug, and then thanked Neve again when she set down the albums. “I’m just glad you’re willing to help,” Judy added. “We’d given up on catering two weeks ago and I was this close to ordering a bunch of pizzas. I wanted something a little classier for Rachael.”
“I can do class, no worries. I’d chat more about it, but I need to get busy opening the shop and putting some sweets in the oven.” Neve left the young woman to study catering choices and headed toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “All the pricing is in there, so take your time looking and let me know when you’re ready.”
“I will, definitely.”
* * * * *
Judy watched Neve take charge of her kitchen, amazed by how quietly the pastry chef maneuvered and handled the heavy-duty bakeware. She folded her hands over the open photo album and remembered childhood weekends spent with her mother, and how the clang and crash of aluminum pans and cupcake tins signaled an afternoon of stirring lumpy batter until all the pockets of dry mix dissolved. The end product rarely tasted like the best treats Betty Crocker or Mrs. Fields could offer, but it didn’t matter. She and her mother had so much fun together.
Here, though, Judy saw nothing motherly about the way Neve ruled the space. Despite the loose, comfortable clothing and a knit cap covering the woman’s hair, Neve exuded a quiet eroticism that Judy found attractive.
Judy leaned toward the wall to better observe the chef and how she stirred various contents in bowls and iced tiny cakes and cookies. Completing one tray, Neve absently pressed a finger to her tongue to lick away a dab of chocolate, and Judy’s stomach fluttered.
How sweet would a chocolate kiss from Neve’s lips taste?
She shook her head and tried to concentrate on the photo album. She truly had come to order something for Rachael’s birthday, and with Neve open to doing a cake with an LGBT theme, it gave Judy hope. The other bakeries turning them away had soured Rachael on having a party at all. Neve suspected her friend now looked forward to passing most of the day in a sixty-nine position with her boi du jour.
Judy silently thanked Maggie for sharing that Facebook link to Sugar Rush, which had inspired her to connect with Neve.
She heard water rushing as Neve called from a distance, “Any questions?”
“Huh? Uh, no, I think I pretty much know what we’d like for the party.” She tapped a photograph as Neve returned with her hands hidden in a white towel. “This spread looks nice. Could this be done with a rainbow theme?”
Neve hovered over Judy, tilting her head to see better. “That was an anniversary party we did a few years back. Lots of vegan and gluten-free treats. They’re not difficult to do, but we’d need more of an advance notice because we don’t keep too many supplies in stock.” Neve quirked up her lip. “We should, though. Wouldn’t hurt if everybody cut down on certain things.”
“I didn’t even think of that. Nobody has any allergies that I know of,” Judy said. “It doesn’t have to be gluten-free, you can use whatever’s handy.” She focused on a spot of chocolate icing near the corner of Neve’s lip, dark and delicious like a beauty mark. Oh, to kiss it away…
“Okay, if you’re committed to that, let me get you an order form to fill out while I check on my cookies.” Neve dashed behind the counter, eliminating any possibility of a spontaneous kiss. Judy sighed her disappointment, though the aroma of warm oatmeal and chocolate provided some balm to her bruised heart.
“We will need fifty percent of the total cost up front, just so you know,” Neve called from under a counter. “If you can’t swing that now, we’re open until seven today. If I’m not here when you come in, my assistant Terri can handle it.”
“Oh, it’s no problem to pay in full right now,” Judy said, willing away a stomach pang as Neve returned with a carbon paper form with the total already written on it. “The group will reimburse me for any extra costs.”
“Bottom copy is yours. I’ll be right back to swipe your card.” Neve dashed back into the kitchen.
Judy rose halfway from her chair to judge the baking activity and, betting Neve would be occupied for more than a few minutes, whipped out her phone to text Rachael.
Yo, birthday girl. Ready for Sunday? With every touch of a thumb to a letter, Judy prayed her never-a-morning-person friend had decided to change things up today. After several seconds, a quick vibration from the device relieved her.
Yep. Fresh batteries in all the toys and a hot hottie to help me drain them. That’s after we go out for pizza, of course.
Thank God. Change of plans. Got a big surprise for you.
What, you won Powerball? Rachael texted back.
I know you said to forget about the party, but I want to do it anyway. Got you an awesome cake and food. Emailing everybody to tell them it’s back on at Little Dude’s. You better be there, bitch.
What! After all that crap those people gave us? How do you know this one isn’t gonna bake a Bible in the cake?
Trust me, she’s cool. You deserve a party on your birthday, screw the haters. GTG, will explain later.
The loud click of a lock passed like a bullet through Judy’s brain, and she fumbled with the phone. She looked up to see a plain, pudgy woman bustle into the shop, her head still down as though she’d battled the wind all the way here.
“Got here as soon as I could, Neve
,” she called out. “Hit every damn light on Rosemont—oh!” She glanced quizzically at Judy as she pulled off her toque, unleashing a tangle of sandy-blonde curls. “Good morning.”
“Hi.” Judy gave a slight wave. “I was just placing a special order.”
“Oh cool. Did you find everything you wanted?”
Judy nodded. “Yeah. I really appreciate your availability, and the short notice too. It’s going to be great.”
The curly haired woman, presumably Neve’s employee, frowned. “How short are we talking?” she asked, but marched into the kitchen before Judy opened her mouth.
Judy listened quietly, sipping her coffee and recording her information on the form in heavy, straight pen strokes. Despite the open doorway and service window connecting the kitchen to the sales floor, she had trouble hearing their conversation. She picked up bits and pieces, mostly protests from the other woman. Are you kidding…did she pay up front…how are you going…
Bodies paced back and forth, Neve’s employee bearing trays and banging bakeware. The scene made Judy uncomfortable to the point that she wanted to slip away without saying goodbye. She didn’t like causing discord, and the employee seemed quite perturbed about her order.
Finally Neve emerged from the kitchen with a long tray of cupcakes. Her employee followed with a variety of scones and set about sorting them in the display case. “You all set there?” Neve asked, nodding toward her table.
Judy brought the form to the register. “Uh, yeah. Do I need to pick up the food, or do you deliver…?”
Neve glanced at the paper, raising an eyebrow. “I think I know where this is. Hyland Avenue…that’s over by the mall, right?”
“It’s close, yeah.”
“Well, my GPS should find it. We’re closed on Sundays, so it will be easier for me to just deliver.” Neve shrugged and offered a smile that struck Judy to her core. Her pussy squeezed as it had last night, and Judy crossed her legs where she stood to fight the ache of want. The move, however, served to put more pressure on her clit and heighten her desire. She handed Neve her card and waited patiently to sign the sales slip.
“Terri, can you check on the ladyfingers?” Neve called behind her. “I think they’re ready to come out.”
Terri didn’t answer until she reentered the sales area with another tray of goodies. “They’re cooling now,” she said. “Oh, did I tell you I saw Gianna last night?”
The pen in Neve’s hand fell to the floor with a clatter, and she looked as if she didn’t know what to do about it. Judy studied the discomfort wrinkling the lovely baker’s features, and figured this bit of gossip involved somebody who’d upset her.
She shook her head, as though coming to, and bent down for the pen. “Sorry about that,” Neve said. “So we’ll deliver at the venue an hour in advance, according to this agreement. If you wish to retain us for service during the party, that will cost extra. We do keep a mobile credit card app, in case you need us last minute.”
“Sounds great. Thanks so much for doing this.” Judy fisted her receipt and backed slowly toward the exit. Neve had recovered completely from her earlier jolt and looked more enticing than ever. Terri, on the other hand, eyed Judy as if she willed her to get lost if she didn’t plan on buying more treats.
“See you Sunday. Oh!” Judy backed into the locked door, feeling silly.
“I’ll get the door behind you, don’t worry,” Terri said almost happily.
Outside, Judy nearly skipped to her car. She still had an hour before she had to report to work, and her stomach growled. She was right there with scones she could have purchased too. Rats.
Ah well. Judy decided to stop at the McDonald’s near the hobby store for a breakfast sandwich and juice. She didn’t know how she’d make it to Sunday evening when the prospect of seeing Neve again already excited her so much. She’d find a way to get Neve to stay on at the party too. Maybe hint that some guests wanted her services for other functions.
Of course, she had to convince Rachael to let the party happen, and get the owner of Little Dude’s to let them bring in food other than cake. Then buy some decorations, and round up all the people they’d previously invited, and hope Rachael hadn’t pissed any of them off in the last week.
Easy-peasy. Ugh.
Chapter Four
“I cannot believe you agreed to a two-day turnaround on food for thirty people.” Terri held the whisk like a weapon, and Neve noticed her tight grip. “I may not need this today. I can tell your brains are already scrambled.”
“What was I going to do, say no?” Neve asked in her defense. “The poor thing was distraught, like the world didn’t want her having this party for her friend just because she’s gay.” Well, maybe not distraught, but Neve figured the girl had probably nursed some heartbreak and frustration trying to get this party catered. Terri didn’t have to know any details outside of what they needed to make. “And after that Facebook kerfuffle with the lesbian wedding cake, I didn’t want us to look bad, either.”
“Did you just say kerfuffle?” Terri snorted. “1912 called. They want their lingo back.”
Neve sighed. “I’ll pay time and a half for every hour you work over getting this done. Like you said, it’s only thirty people.”
“Yeah, thirty hungry people, no doubt.”
Neve just looked at her assistant. Say yes, please. If Terri agreed to help, she’d forgive her for bringing up Gianna earlier.
Terri had worked with Neve since opening day—months before that, actually, as they renovated the space and tested recipes. That had granted her a front-row seat to the regular drama that was Neve’s love life. Gianna’s departure two years ago, though, had left virtually no opportunities for Terri to munch popcorn on the sidelines and play commentator.
Had she mentioned seeing Gianna to get a rise out of her, or did she believe enough time had passed that it wouldn’t bother Neve?
Hey, stop it. Terri was just making conversation.
“You all right, sprite?” Terri aped one of Neve’s rhyming endearments.
She nodded. “It’s a quick job, I guarantee it.”
“Fine. I’ll work late on Saturday and pause my busy social life, if you need me.” Terri nodded toward the storefront. “And I’m inclined to ask for hazard pay now. Look at that crowd gathering.”
Neve followed her assistant’s gaze and gulped. When Judy had left after finalizing the party’s menu, the sidewalk outside the store had been empty. Corky had arrived thirty minutes before the hour to finish opening procedures—still no people. Now, with five minutes until go time, the crowd had returned, all toting steaming paper cups and bouncing on the balls of their feet to stave off the cold.
“Go ahead and unlock it,” she called to Corky, who looked downright nervous, probably about being trampled. “I think we’re prepared.”
“I don’t think I am,” Corky said, moving toward the door.
* * * * *
By mid-afternoon, with two hours until closing, Neve wanted to slip out of her flour-and-buttercream skin and into a hot bath. In the five years she’d operated the bakery, she’d never before experienced such a busy workday. Customers came and went in a steady stream of delighted chirping and eternal gratitude for Neve’s LGBT-friendly stand on Facebook, and not all the people who bought treats identified as such. Neve typically recognized repeat customers, and a fair number came through to stock up for the weekend, but today she actually learned more about the people who supported her livelihood.
The silver-haired woman who resembled one of her favorite TV actresses stopped in for a few minutes and talked of how she helped bring the AIDS quilt to town back in the nineties.
The shy teenager who always wore a brown knit cap regardless of the weather—who Neve had suspected was gay—bought two chocolate cupcakes for a dinner date, and said he couldn’t wait to surprise his boyfriend.
The blonde woman with the pink vintage bowling-bag-turned-purse, who normally bought single treats each visit, too
k home a dozen whoopee pies as a show of support.
Between the three workers, they managed to keep the cases filled with product so nobody left disappointed to see a favorite treat sold out. Now, however, Neve noted she probably wouldn’t be able to replenish the dwindling racks of macaroons and madeleines before they closed for the day.
Corky handed a customer a pink pastry box filled with cookies and brownies. “Enjoy, and come back and see us.” The young man, crisp in a business suit, smiled his thanks.
“I’ll be sure to give you a good review on Yelp,” he said.
“Thanks,” Neve called to him as he left, wondering what he meant. “What the hell is Yelp?” she asked Corky, who already had her phone out to show her.
“Damn, how many of these tweety-bird pages are there?” she murmured, scrolling down the bakery’s profile on the site. “I didn’t even make this one.”
“The sites kind of generate them for the businesses, but I can claim the listing,” Corky said.
Neve eyed her, wary. “What does that entail?” she asked, still holding the phone.
“You don’t have to surrender any DNA, don’t worry.” Corky laughed. “Yelp isn’t the only site, either. There are a number of foodie social networks I’ve been monitoring, and we can do a lot with them for promotion.” Strange names rolled off her tongue—Urbanspoon, Foursquare…they all sounded rather foreign, but since Corky knew the business, Neve trusted her to manage their social presence.
She nodded, half listening to the girl, and scrolled though the Yelp reviews of her shop, many of which had been written not long after the Facebook incident. She saw a number of people hoped to trash her store and reputation through the partial anonymity set up by the site, but all the one-star vitriolic rants focused mainly on the gay issue and not the food. A number of five-star reviews provided good balance.
“What do you think?” Corky asked.
“I think I’m more likely to trust a review written by somebody who knows the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’,” Neve said with a grimace. “Honestly, don’t these sites require proper spelling?”
Sugar Rush Page 3