by M. C. Cerny
I sighed, giving in. “Of course I’ll taste your cake.”
This time Taylor rolled her eyes.
2
Damien
The flashing red and blue lights followed by the siren blaring had me pulling over my pickup truck, cursing with a slap to my steering wheel. This night was about to go to hell. I was just heading home from the bar, where I’d left Hunter, Whittaker, and the girls watching the hockey game. I had slaked my thirst for microbrews and quality time with friends not even staying for the end of the game. My mouth dried up as I wondered how this would turn out. It was no surprise to find douche-canoe drive out from his hidden spot and flip his lights on, deciding to pull me over. I should have waited at the bar for his fucking shift to change. I knew better, and yet the urge to taunt him never passed me by.
In the side mirror I read the etched words, “objects may appear closer than they are” as the asshole swaggered over to my side of the vehicle. He practically thrust his fucking dick out into traffic and I glared, hoping it wasn’t that close to me. You can’t tell me no one has ever in their life sped or parked somewhere they shouldn’t have or driven home a tad buzzed every now again, trying to get home. The latter part wasn’t a good idea, and generally I was a law-abiding citizen. I didn’t mind cops and liked most of them who did their job, but this guy… ugh… this motherfucker made it his mission to pull me over every damn time he was on duty. I’d call it harassment, but then I’d have to explain to the municipal judge, who happened to be Kristen’s mother, that our dislike stemmed from the fact I didn’t like how he treated Kristen. My past experiences with Judge Calloway were not exactly ones that had garnered positive reflection. Even if Kristen instigated it, it didn’t bode well for me.
It never did.
I should just fucking move on.
And yet…
Before Taylor returned home to flip the house from hell, I’d heard a rumor that he had proposed. Knowing that she’d turned him down had made me feel like a king that day. He wouldn’t get a piece of her. Neither would I, but it was the principal of the thing. Of course that was ruined further when then they went on some romantic fuck-fest to a winery in Sonoma. Who goes on vacation after turning down a proposal?
Sonoma.
What the hell was in Sonoma?
Pfft.
More like he was trying to see some-more-a her naked ass drinking shit that attracted fruit flies. Guy must have a fucking shrine with candles and her picture on a wall somewhere. I hated him and I hated that he had been with Kristen when I could do nothing about it.
“License and registration… cocksucker.” He shined his flashlight into my vehicle and I’d have loved nothing more than to shove it right up his ass.
“Aw, you remember my name. Nice to see you too, Officer Evan Rooney. You ever get that promotion for fucking your mom?”
“Hilarious. Your mom says hi, by the way.” Years later and we always went back to the mom jokes. “Have you been drinking tonight?” He clicked his pen with his ticket book out. Looked like I was about to be getting a handwritten love note from this guy.
“Was hockey playing?”
“Answer the question.”
“Why? You know the answer. I was with Hunter and Whittaker tonight. I think the Rangers won. Beat your pussy team 4-0 last I checked.”
“Step out of the car.” The douchebag flicked his head at me—I wasn’t even worthy of a full nod. God, this guy grated on my nerves.
“What for?” Now I was pissed because Evan was only doing this because he could.
“Sobriety test. Get out of the car. Don’t make me repeat myself.” He squared his legs and put his hands on his waist. I didn’t know if he was planning to tackle me or what. I could totally take him, but that wasn’t the point.
“I’m not drunk. Could you for one minute separate being a dick from your job?” We would never get over our dislike of each other until one of us left town—and I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Should I consider this resisting an officer?” he said, raising his eyebrows in challenge.
Rolling my eyes, I stepped out of my truck as a car honking passed us by. I was sure my parents would somehow hear about this later, and then it would be all over town that Officer Rooney had pulled me over for some bullshit, again. Like I wanted or needed Kristen to hear about it and rub salt in the wound. It would spread from the local sewing circle to the Bible study group at Pastor Rooney’s church like wildfire, for Christ’s sake. Yeah, even his dad was a religious touting uptight pain-in-the-ass. I guess the apple wasn’t falling far from the tree.
“Merely protesting your stereotypical profiling.” I said.
“Uh huh,” he muttered, taking a step forward.
“I’m sorry my lips are too chapped to kiss your ass tonight.” I badly wanted to make a joke, but I really was trying to stay out of trouble. There was something about hitting my mid-twenties and the sudden need to start adulting. I blamed it on Hunter.
“Trained observation, Hart. Come on, let’s get this shit show on the road.”
Shaking my head, I got out of the truck and crossed my arms. He had my information memorized at that point so it didn’t matter if I gave him my paperwork or not.
I’d have liked to think his chief would have told him to ease up. I mean, I’d snaked the fucking guy’s toilet more times than I wanted to count. I’d say we had a somewhat intimate knowledge of each other’s bullshit by this point.
“You want me to walk a line, say the alphabet backwards, or what?”
“I’m just ascertaining if you’re under the influence and above the legal limit.” Rooney pitched me a pointed look, leaving us in a stalemate. By the grace of God—or maybe it was his badge—I complied begrudgingly.
“Well it’s oozing out of my pores as we speak, dickwad.” My mother would be so proud. I could already taste her brand of yellow bar soap in the back of my mouth, like I was ten all over again.
He made a face and opened his mouth—that could use a few less teeth, as far as I was concerned. Leaning in, he taunted me. “Just like my cum will be oozing out from a certain brunette later tonight?”
“Oh, that’s cute; you stick your dick in any other foul places?” I committed myself to beating his ass in a minute. I tried to remember the breathing technique Taylor had taught me from that yoga retreat she and Kristen attended—some crap about cleansing the soul and reducing resentments—but my memory was hazy because he was working me up and we both knew it.
As expected, he went in for the kill shot. “Speaking of dicks, I bet you’re still hung up on the fact that Kristen is still riding mine. In fact, I think I’ll give her a text and see if she wants to hook up when my shift ends tonight.” Rooney tapped my chest with his baton and I finally lost my shit.
Bad move, pig. Maybe she wasn’t my girl, but he was a disrespectful asshole… besides, I was the only one that got to be a jerk to her.
And that’s pretty much how I got myself arrested for assaulting a cop…
* * * * *
A clanging on the bars alerted me to his oh-so-holy-and-perfect presence. “So you want to talk about it?” Hunter stood outside the jail cell, waiting for me to look up from my head resting in my hands over my knees. Rooney had called in backup and they made a big fucking deal of things. The guys that pulled up to our brawl peeled us apart, sent Rooney on his way, and called the chief, who ordered my ass hauled in for holding.
My mother would worry and my dad would shake his head, telling me to get my head straight and be more like Hunter. No surprises there. While I didn’t blame my cousin, it still hurt that my dad felt… I don’t know… something close and fatherly toward him. Hunter and I had a brotherly affection for each other even though we were cousins, and I was envious of the easy relationship he had with my parents. In one summer I went from being an only child to one with an older cousin I shared my room and my life with. It would be a miracle if this wasn’t in the paper tomorrow. It was just what my par
ents needed—me fucking up again and Hunter, the perfectly circumcised dick that he was, coming here to rescue me.
“Not particularly.” The fact that Hunter was there meant the chief had already called my parents and they weren’t coming. I was always disappointing them as much as Hunter impressed them. We didn’t mean for it to be like that, but there it was. Hunter had his own rash of shit growing up, and I certainly wasn’t helping him by getting arrested by a former high school classmate and football teammate.
Evan Rooney picked up the star quarterback spot when Kristen’s brother Chase had graduated. I had played as a wide receiver while Hunter had been conned into playing as a linebacker because of his size. I had played for fun growing up, but the game changed for me when Evan pretty much stole my spot and then my girl. Shaking off the past I collected myself ready to get out of there.
“Chief said there wasn’t any mobile video to charge you with assault, but I’m guessing you can’t get the DUI charge dropped.”
I shrugged as one of the patrolman opened the cell door, handing me a plastic bag with my belongings.
“You should see the other guy.” I smiled through my bruised face and winced taking a step forward. I didn’t leave Rooney any better than he left me. Nope, we were just two dogs having a pissing contest over a girl I couldn’t let go of.
“Well, I’m pretty sure that all doesn’t come from walking a straight line.” Hunter nodded to my roughed-up state and I followed him out, paying the fines I owed. Morning sun barely peeked through thick gray clouds and from the station window the Shawnagunk Mountains loomed tree lined and craggy.
Evan’s asshole buddies had dragged me in there to cool off. Everyone in the department realized it was an old feud between Rooney and me. I wasn’t assaulting him as a cop, although he was in uniform. I was kicking his ass defending Kristen’s tarnished honor, be that as it may. I wasn’t excusing my behavior—hell, I knew it was wrong on every level—but he knew the exact buttons to push for me to lose my shit every damn time.
Walking up to the glass window, Noah Banks, another classmate of ours sat behind it processing paperwork for my release. The silver badge pinned to his uniformed chest glinted in the yellow overhead light aggravating my headache. “We all set here?” I asked.
Noah handed me my keys under the window.
“Drive safe, man, and don’t skip out on the court hearing.” I liked that Noah didn’t give me shit. Hell, he’d watched this fight begin back in seventh grade, and I was sure it wouldn’t end until Kristen picked a side and stuck with it once and for all.
“Court?” Hunter asked, looking concerned.
I shrugged. “Yeah, I have to go for the DUI and get that straightened out.” The weight of that on my shoulders caused me to shuffle heavily out the door. If I got my license suspended it would be a huge pain in the ass, but it was also the least of my worries currently.
Hunter held his hand out and I stared at it until he spoke. “Uh yeah, how about if I drive. Just in case.”
Who knew how long I’d still have a license if the charges stuck this time.
“Sure thing, Hunter.” I threw him my keys, knowing I’d have to pay some consequence for all of this. It would be worth it if Rooney had to pay too, but I doubted the golden boy would get anything more than a slap on his wrist while I looked like an out of control asshole. I figured I could get my car later when I knew Rooney wasn’t working.
“I feel like I need to say something, Damien.” Hunter started up his truck as I buckled in.
“Don’t man. Please.” I felt bad enough. I didn’t need the prince or perfect behavior reminding me that his parents died because of an alcohol related accident.
“Okay then.” Hunter left it alone, but the tension hung in the air between us thick and ripe with disappointment.
3
Kristen
Whoever said cake didn’t cause orgasms obviously hadn’t tried the ones made by Taylor’s friend Carmen at her boutique shop called Cake and Battery. Cute name for the adorable shop on Main Street in town. The striped awning was pink and white with black trim and cartoonish pictures of a mixing bowl and a whisk wearing prison jumpsuits enticing you to enter. I heard a rumor Carmen’s buttercream icing was so good it would tempt a nun to kick out a stained glass window.
I had secretly been waiting for this day and had counted my calories up until the night before. I might have even cut back on the liquid calories of wine so I could gorge myself. The air smelled sweet, making my mouth water and eliciting criminal thoughts of my next fix. My hips felt thicker at the thought of ingesting fondant, and fresh strawberry filling between layers of spongy cake. I wasn’t sure what would quench my thirst—water or coffee—between the bites of heaven. My mind was literally blown by the salted caramel I watched oozing and sliding down Taylor’s fork.
It was unadulterated food porn.
“Remind me again how you two met?” I stuffed another bite of heaven in my mouth, letting my eyes roll to the back of my head. This cake pretty much tied between the need for sex and breathing air. I wondered how many sexy cupcake eating videos I might find on Tumblr and made a note to ask Demon later, if anyone knew their Tumblr sites, it would be him.
Taylor’s pretty friend laughed shyly and answered my question, cutting another slice of cake for my plate. “Freshman orientation matched us up. We were roommates in college for two years; I think I remember Taylor saying you were the single white female type.” She tapped her cake cutter on the plate and I nodded for her to give me another slice.
I gave Taylor a playful glare. “You say that like I’m a stalker,” I mumbled between bites. “Besides, if I knew you and my bestie would be making out I might have visited more.”
“You don’t like vanilla-flavored vodka,” Taylor teased.
“Is that what gets your pants off? I am so getting that for Vegas. Bottle or shots?” I asked looking for Carmen’s imput.
“I never kiss and tell.” Carmen wiped her hands on the towel and made notes in her notebook regarding our favorite selections of cake.
“That’s top secret, isn’t it? Does Hunter know? That’s too hot for Tumblr." I savored the red velvet cake with the sparkly white cream cheese frosting moaning as the fork slid between my lips.
“Kristen!” Both Carmen and Taylor giggled and I shrugged, enjoying the cake that would keep me in yoga class extra-long the following weekend.
“Well, you never visited when I was there, so we will never know.” Carmen clicked her pen making a note.
“That’s because you went home every single weekend.” Taylor nudged her baker-fabulous friend.
“True, but I think I’m over that now.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, getting dumped and sort of coming out to your family kind of puts you on everyone’s shit list these days.”
“Yes, but you got awesome hair out of it.” Admiring Carmen’s hair was hard to do when it was pulled back into a ponytail, which I guessed was efficient for working at the bakery. Nobody wanted to eat long strands of hair in their treats—even if it was clean and pretty.
“I did, didn’t I?” Carmen’s smile glowed.
Another lover of cake joined us, grinning as she rang the shop’s bell, interrupting us. “Hey, sorry I’m late. I got stuck doing highlights for a client Tommy usually takes.” Louisa Cox ran the hippest hair salon in town—in fact, she had done my red ombre, which could use some touch ups before the bachelorette party coming up and the wedding while I thought about it.
“Anyone we know?” I asked, feeling slightly miffed.
“Now KC, we don’t want you to get yourself arrested.” Louisa was a real pain in the ass reminding me. It was a misdemeanor that got dropped and a complete misunderstanding. Actually, it was Hunter’s fault and that was the story I was sticking with.
“Ugh, that means it was Brittany? You colored her hair? Traitor.” There was a certain satisfaction in getting into it with that witch who had shown up uninvite
d to Taylor’s house party a while back. I blamed Hunter for dating the troll at the time. She probably went back to bottom feeding the dating pool since he dumped her. One thing I knew was that she better leave our crew of friends alone because I couldn’t promise to not jump her skanky ass if I saw her again.
“Aw, come on. It’s business.” Louisa winked.
“I hope her tip money catches on fire in your pants. You can’t trust that voodoo witch.” I delighted in thinking of ways to make Brittany’s hair fall out.
Taylor slid her plate over to me and I took the last bite of Myer lemon cake and raspberry preserve. Carmen collected our plates and scurried back to the kitchen calling over her shoulder.
“Oh, you’re done. I need more cake. I’m going to, uh, check on the cake.” I wondered if she would bring out the chocolate next. Taylor’s eyes darted back and forth between Louisa, the kitchen’s revolving door and then me.
“Her hair looks nice,” Taylor said to Louisa as she arranged her napkin and fork with an OCD precision.
“Oh yeah, easy fix. I’m glad you sent her over.” I sensed my hairdresser had more to say, but she shut down as the kitchen door opened again and Carmen returned with another full plate of sin and samples for us to try.
“Okay, so this one is the mocha fudge, and here we have the cookie dough.” Carmen’s hands shook bringing the platter to the table we occupied. Her voice babbled as she pointed out more flavor options for the wedding cake.
I was eager to dive in to taste all of them when I got a nudge under the table in the form of Taylor’s foot. I looked over to her and her eyebrow shot up, daring me to say something. Obviously we were going to reconvene for some kind of girl council. Besties just knew this shit.
“Hey Kristen, can you help me with the coffee maker?” Taylor wiped her hands on a napkin, standing up, her eyes darting to the back suspiciously. Okay, I hankered a guess we would be using the kitchen to sort this out leaving the other two out front.