B01HLCU8FG EBOK

by Mathew Ortiz

  “I saw you look at me! I’m a versatile top.” Cotton scowled at me and Avery snickered.

  “Bro, that means you’re a bottom boy.” Avery laughed harder and Cotton snarled at him. Avery preferred to top, always had. Me? I was a bottom through and through. Cotton flipped as needed, but vociferously adhered to be primarily a top. Yeah right! Right cock, right guy and Cotton’s heels were behind his ears.

  “Regardless. It’s a personal preference. I like the fact that when a guy is back there, he’s not getting a mouthful of organic dental floss.” I finished my coffee and started back to the kitchen.

  “Ew! Boone!” Avery wrinkled his nose and Cotton looked squicked out.

  “Ew, nothing. You like it on Martin, Avery.”

  “True. Thanks again.” He patted me on the back and Cotton quirked a brow at us.

  “Don’t knock it, Cotton. If you want you can come with us in five weeks for our next appointment.” I made a ripping motion with my hands and Cotton shuddered.

  “I’d rather shave.”

  “Shave what?” Momma asked and Avery and Cotton slammed into my back when I skidded to a halt.

  “Nothin’.” We answered her in unison.

  “Uh-huh. You three are up to something,” Mawmaw shot back and we all blushed.

  Martin looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. Luckily, Peg sat at the table, oblivious to our conversation for a change.

  “Mawmaw… little ears.” I pointed to the tiny dark head currently munching on some bacon.

  “Shoot.” She rolled her eyes and glared at us. Later, she mouthed and Martin groaned. Laughing, we all found our spots at the table and tucked in for another family meal.

  *

  The week started with a bang. Five consultations for wedding cakes were booked by late Monday afternoon. The D’Argento wedding had been a boon, pun intended, for the bakery. Ellebeth, our office manager, dropped the appointments on my work table and I balked.

  “Five? Two today, one tomorrow and two on Thursday?” I flipped through them and one stuck out. Shamus O’Malley and Valentino DaCosta. DaCosta was Avery’s new boss. It had to be him. Oh nutfuzzles! They were coming in less than two hours.

  “Really? Two hours?” She saw my face and gave me an apologetic shrug.

  “You should be proud. One cake, one horrendously ugly, pink and purple nightmare generated five consultations.” She tapped the stainless steel table top. “My money was on the flavors of the cakes. It was six different flavors, right?”

  “Yup. Ginger/lime, chocolate hazelnut, Oooey Gooey, Vanilla Chai, Butter Rum and BerryMerry. I have to agree. The cake was a beautiful nightmare saved by the taste.” Pride swelled in me because all were my creations or from my Mawmaw. She taught me everything I knew and, when I went to Pastry School, I fine-tuned my skills to razor sharpness. I loved doing cakes but all things baking were my thing. My Messy Betties were a hit at the store and sold out every day. The Apple/Cranberry Cardamom pie and Harvest fruit pies came from a week long pie baking marathon.

  I craved savory items and sour dishes. People thought it odd that I didn’t really like sweets. Weird… right? My favorite foods to eat, besides my momma’s cooking, were Thai and Indian. I loved the heat, sweet, sour and saltiness of Thai food and the rich layers of spices in Indian food.

  “I remember. Best thing about working here is the after cuts.” She giggled and left me to my work. The Andersons were due to arrive at noon. I hurried to the freezer to see what I had sample wise. I kept several for tasting and replaced them with fresh fair every two days. I would not serve stale cake to a prospective client, it would be…un-gay!

  Getting my butt into gear, I prepped for the first couple. The day was shaping up to be quite interesting.

  *

  My phone beeped as I set out the last of my samples. I waved my hand over the screen.

  I’m getting out of work early tonight. How about that date?

  Robbie’s text made my heartbeat jump and my stomach got all floopy. Truth be told when he cancelled I was disappointed and relieved at the same time. My disappointment gnawed at me harder because I really wanted to see him again. Yet a small part of me was relieved. I found myself enjoying his company too much and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pursue anything with him. Honestly, I was crap at relationships. I had two relationships that ended badly, mainly because my drive to succeed sunk both of them and I manned up and took the blame.

  Tony, my first real boyfriend, came into my life around my twentieth birthday. Tall, dark, Italian and hung like a horse, we had instant chemistry and the sex ticked all my boxes. We were explosive together. Wild and passionate, we would fuck for hours until exhaustion and hunger drove us from his or my bed. However that same passion led to massive fights. He preferred his man to be at his beck and call and I had just started pastry school. Tony ragged on me constantly about not spending enough time with him and I really didn’t. My focus was on my education and I did back burner him. After two years, we came to an explosive end and I broke it off with him. I remember crying in my bedroom, hurt and lonely, for days. My heart was torn asunder and I didn’t think I would ever recover. That was until I heard he’d already found a new man less than twenty-four hours later. Fucker. I’d dried my tears and moved forward, stung but surviving.

  Six months later I’d fallen hard for Patrick, one of my pastry instructors. I was in his class and one night he found me working on a project, and kissed me. I ended up with my legs wrapped around his waist, lying on the prep table as he banged me so hard, bowls fell off. Again, I’d fallen for a passionate, aggressive man, who took charge and I melted under his hand. The problem was that Patrick didn’t just want to do me. He also did Mark, Hadassah, Nico and Laila. I only found out a year after we’d become a couple. I dumped him and threw myself back into my work. Again, I put my work first and shoved any futile attempts from Patrick to apologize out the door.

  Cotton had sat with me as I nursed my beer and listened to me bemoan about how I could never find a good guy. How they didn’t understand my passion for my work. How I thought I was going to be alone.

  Cotton had listened with all the appropriate ‘hmms’ and ‘uhhuhs’ and after I finished, he set his beer down and quietly said. “Boone, I love you bro but you like controllin’ men and you can’t stand weak ones. And you love being swept up in the passion and being dominated by a guy but get all pissy when they don’t do what you want. You need to find a guy as driven as you are and find a compromise between you. Stop chasin’ guys you know won’t understand how much you love your job. Find one with the same ambition.” He ended his spiel and I sat back stunned.

  He was right. Tony worked in construction and didn’t understand how much I loved the creative process of decorating cakes. Hell, he’d even called it a faggy job at one point. Patrick loved teaching and had passion yet couldn’t commit to one person. He even began mocking my work as it evolved and excelled. He made constant snide comments and, in the end, he said that was why he fucked around on me. He said I spent more time trying to be the best than I did with him. To that I said, whatever, and chucked him to the curb.

  Cotton hit the nail on the head. I was driven, focused and had yet to find someone who shared my enthusiasm. So I plunged balls deep into my career and only ventured out occasionally for a hook-up. That’s how I knew about Hobbins, the all male gym and sauna, aka bathhouse. Peter clued me into it and I went. I played safe when there and had my fill, so to speak, of cock. My work life was peaches and my family life was aces. Was I lonely? Sometimes. Then Robbie Gaither entered my life.

  The more I talked to him, the more I saw myself in him. He loved his job and strove to be the best at it. Even to the point of cancelling our date. I remembered how many times I had cancelled plans with either Tony or Patrick to finish a cake and blew off their annoyance at me. Having it done to me sat kind of sour on my stomach.

  Sounds good. I’m done here by three.

  I can pick you up at
your place or we can meet at the Dubonny Club.

  I didn’t like the idea of him coming around my place yet. Mainly because my family were right next door and my mawmaw always knew my comings and goings.

  How about we meet there at seven?

  I texted back.

  Done and done. See you then.

  I went back to setting up when Ria came around and waved at me. She had been with me that night I met Robbie at Inferno. Loyal and loving, she had graduated from the same school I did and I had hired her right away. Oh, that was one little thing I hadn’t told Robbie. I owned 350 Degrees.

  It was my bakery. I worked primarily as the head decorator and left the day to day running to my team but it was mine. I bought 350 Degrees two years ago from the previous owner, Tim Grant. The only way I could come up with the money was securing a business loan which my momma and Mawmaw cosigned. I had already been working there for five years when Tim said he wanted to sell. I jumped at the opportunity to make the bakery my own and put my own stamp on it.

  The first year nearly killed me. I worked sixteen hour days and more than once had been hospitalized for my blood sugar going all wonky. In the end, the bakery flourished and now I had a staff of ten and continued to run in the black. My momma and Mawmaw held the position of silent partners and bless them, they never interfered. Over all, money flowed in, the staff were happy and I finally had complete artistic control over the baked goods. We sold to seven local restaurants and I had three bakers to cover those orders. And two other decorators worked for me doing cakes. Lastly, I had four support staff to run the shop. I wasn’t even thirty and had achieved great success… but had no one to share it with.

  I waved Ria to bring back my clients and sucked in a deep breath to calm my nerves. If I could impress Valentino DaCosta, I might be able to steal his desert accounts away from Milbunns. Nothing personal against them, but his places were high end and it would be a total coup to snag them.

  I had seen Valentino DaCosta before and damn, he made my knees weak. Tall, lean, Latin and suave, he reminded me of an expensive sports car—powerful and fast. He oozed confidence and commanded a room when he entered it. Imagine my surprise when he came in first, hair mussed as he ran his hands through it, looking harried. The cause came into my line of sight behind him.

  Shorter than Valentino, the first thing that struck me was how red the man’s hair was. It blazed like a roaring fire and, from the tongue lashing he was giving Valentino, the man wasn’t a happy camper.

  “I can’t believe you forgot our anniversary!”

  “How many times can I apologize, Shamus? It slipped my mind.” DaCosta ran a hand over his face as he turned to address the adorable redhead. Did I say adorable? I meant smoking hot. Porcelain skin shone in the light and freckles sprinkled along the bridge of his nose. He had a full lush ginger beard and snapping grey-green eyes. His shoulders were broad and he was thicker built than DaCosta.

  “I don’t ask a lot of you, Valentino. I know you have businesses to run. I only ask for three days a year from you. Three! My birthday, our anniversary and Christmas. Is that too much to ask? Is it?” Ouch it would seem Mr. Shamus O’Malley was seriously mad. Mad enough to not care if people saw them.

  “I know I screwed up,” DaCosta replied with heat of his own. “Answer me this? How many times have I forgotten any of those three days over the last few years?”

  O’Malley opened his mouth and snapped it shut. I swear I could see the wheels turning in his head and suddenly all the anger seemed to drain out of him and he flushed a ruddy red.

  “None.” I barely heard his reply.

  “Didn’t get that?” DaCosta pressed and O’Malley threw up his hands.

  “None!” The man folded his arms over his chest and glared up at DaCosta. “None. You’re right. I’m being a drama queen.”

  “No matter what you say, you’re just like Cormac.” DaCosta sidled up to the fuming redhead and wrapped an arm around him. ‘I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” O’Malley said grudgingly. DaCosta tapped his own lips and his guy lifted up and planted a kiss on them. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  “Now can we talk to Mr. Myer? I think we’ve given him quite a show.”

  “Yes, we can and I don’t care.”

  “Damn Irish temper.”

  “Stubborn Latino.” Both were said with no heat and, from the looks they gave each other, this was a long standing loving feud between them. What a dichotomy. The two couldn’t be more different than ice and fire. DaCosta’s voice was lightly accented and rich like maple syrup. He dressed the part of a business man and exuded power. Shamus had a thick Boston accent and had dressed in a T-shirt with the Pythagorean Theorem on it.

  DaCosta grabbed O’Malley’s hand and they walked over to my station. He held out his other hand and I took it.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Myer. My best friend, Dell, raves about your shop.”

  “Please, call me Boone.” I shook his hand firmly and he nudged his companion.

  “Only if you call me, Val. And this spitefire is my husband, Shamus O’Malley.” I shook Shamus’ hand and he sighed dramatically.

  “I’m so sorry you heard us fighting—”

  “No you’re not,” Val accused and Shamus bumped him with his shoulder.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Boone.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Shamus. Welcome to 350 Degrees. What can I help you with?” I gestured for them to sit and they both perched on the stools. Shamus piped up first.

  “We want a cake made for my brother, Cormac. A get well cake. He… he—” Shamus broke off and lowered his gaze. I glimpsed tears in his eyes before he averted them and I looked questioningly at Val.

  Val gripped Shamus’ hand and squeezed it once before speaking. “My brother-in-law and best friend, Cormac O’Malley is fighting cancer. The last year has been a brutal run of chemo, radiation and horrible shit that has nearly killed him. But he survived and continues to fight. We thought we would throw him a little party to cheer him up. He’s had a rough year, only made worse when our close friends Tye and Christian moved to Belgium four months ago. I received a call from Tye saying they were coming back to Atlanta for a short visit and we wanted to celebrate the gang being together again.”

  “Cormac really misses Tye and Christian,” Shamus added quietly. “I-we were hoping to surprise him and cheer him up.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” I soothed and leaned forward on the tabletop. “What kind of cake are you wantin’?”

  “Cormac loves chocolate.” Shamus elaborated. “And buttercream frosting. We want something simple, elegant and wildly rich.”

  “I can do that.” I pulled my pad over and tapped in the data. “How many people are we feedin’?”

  “About twenty-ish,” Shamus said and Val nodded.

  “And we need it in five days,” Shamus blurted out. I stopped tapping.

  “Five days,” I repeated and frowned. I instantly pulled up my calendar and checked my schedule. We were totally booked. This was not going to happen and I had to tell them. Damn. “Guys, I’m sor—”

  “Please, Boone. My brother… he-he.” Fat tears fell from Shamus’ eyes and his shoulders shook quietly as he started to cry. I sat helpless as Val pulled Shamus closer. Val cleared his throat as he spoke.

  “You need to understand something, Boone. Cormac is not getting better. The last treatment failed and he is waiting for a bone marrow donor. And, typical of Cormac, he has an odd set of antibodies which is making finding a donor very difficult. I—”

  “My brother is going to die. He has two, maybe three months to live, Boone,” Shamus interrupted hoarsely. The raw pain in his eyes tore into my gut. “I want to make this special. I—”

  Shamus started crying again and my heart cracked. I could tell, just from how he spoke, that Shamus adored his brother and the idea of losing him was destroying the young man. How would I be in his shoes? Avery had told me how scared he and Cotton
were when I was in the hospital. I was admitted when I contracted a disease from a lake we swam in together as kids. When the three of us were a few months shy of our fifteenth, we all contracted a pathogenic enterovirus, called Coxsackie B. I know all the technical stuff about it, since it nearly killed me. At first the symptoms were classic: headache, fever, sore throat and diarrhea. So Mom took us to the ER and they treated us with antibiotics and sent Mom home with prescriptions for more. We took our medicine and drank plenty of fluids like we were told. Cotton and Avery rebounded fairly quickly. Me however…

  I was in the hospital, in a coma, for three weeks. I finally woke up and started getting better but my pancreas shut down, leaving me diabetic. But I’m alive.

  Avery told Martin all about it when they first met. How they were terrified of me dying… of leaving them. The mere thought of losing Avery or Cotton filled me with dread. I don’t think I could hold my shit together. Whether the reason was, being triplets or just plain loving my brothers, the loss of one would kill me. Squaring my jaw, I reached over and patted Shamus’ hand. Damp grey-green eyes met mine.

  “Pick up the cake on Saturday,” I assured him and relief flooded Shamus’ face.

  “Thank you,” he sniffled and Val grabbed my hand. I saw the pain in his gaze and the love he had for Shamus and it humbled me.

  “I won’t forget this, Boone.” Val’s voice gruffly echoed his emotion.

  We chatted for another ten minutes, hammering out the minor details and Val and Shamus walked over to the exit to the bakery front. Val leaned in and murmured something to Shamus. The man nodded and left Val alone with me. Turning to face me, Val’s countenance changed and he was suddenly all business.

  “I have other reasons to see you, Boone.” I cocked an eyebrow at him as he spoke. “I’ve been hearing some impressive word of mouth about your shop and not just from my friend, Dell. Since you bought out Tim you’ve changed the style of the bakery and I’m impressed. While it’s still a home town favorite, you’ve moved it upscale with new desserts, pastries and breads. Plus the cake line here is phenomenal.” He paused letting his words sink in and I felt a bead of sweat roll down my neck.