Just Desserts

by Tricia Quinnies

  Sadie wiped her hand free of spilt beer and wondered if she’d find a bruise on her shoulder. “As soon as the designs are okayed by the previous owner, Paul Maxon.”

  Drew pushed up his geek-style glasses and glanced at Sadie as if she had just appeared from nowhere. Then he turned to face Quinn. “Sounds like another one of your projects that I have to see.”

  Jerk. “Ms. Katie’s and my mother’s cooking made the small diner famous in the Midwest. Quinn’s plans for the rehab are going to make it world renowned.” She shook Drew’s hand. “I’m overseeing some of the initial designs. When Quinn begins work, I’d be happy to arrange a time to give you a tour of it.”

  “Thanks. As long as Quinn is present,” Drew said curtly.

  Sadie gritted her teeth. “Of course.”

  “We can discuss the Lake Country project downstairs, Drew. In the owner’s office.” Quinn stepped away from Sadie and let Drew pass in front of him. He gave her a peck on the cheek. “Be back by the second inning.”

  “Sure.” She watched Quinn and Drew walk off. They stopped to talk to the baseball commissioner. The trio was an example of power and if she hadn’t known Quinn’s other side, she might have been intimidated. Actually, she was.

  Sadie ordered a soda from the bartender. He glanced at her, but addressed the woman next to her and took her order first. Slightly miffed, Sadie ignored her thirst and searched for an open seat to watch the game. As the National Anthem played, she sat down with a couple of women, who nodded when she joined their table but didn’t bother to interrupt their conversation to say hello.

  The game started and Sadie was agitated and bored. The Brewers weren’t hitting. The Cubs’ pitching was atrocious. And Quinn had blown her off. She made her way to the buffet to get a bite to eat.

  “Hey!” someone shouted. “Hey, Ginger head.”

  Sadie wondered who was being so obnoxious and turned around as she nibbled on a carrot stick.

  A guy dressed in a suit and tie and as big as a wall closed in on her. From the raw red of his nose, he was clearly inebriated.

  “Are you speaking to me?” she said and took another bite of the wavy carrot.

  “I’m thirsty. Get me a drink, honey.”

  “Sorry. I don’t work here.” She turned away to get a plate and pile some slices of red and green peppers onto it.

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward him.

  “Get off of me.” She dropped the plate and it crashed onto the concrete ground. The pieces of china flew around her sandals. Sadie did a novice karate chop to break his hand away from her arm. “I’m going to get the bartender. He can kick you out.”

  He slurred some degrading expletives and a few of his buddies surrounded him. They reined him into their fold. “He’s just a little drunk. Miss, do you think you can get him a cup of coffee?” one of the guys asked.

  “No. I can’t. I don’t know where the kitchen is and I don’t work here.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You might want to ask the bartender.”

  She looked around and everyone seemed to be staring at her. She felt like a zoo attraction. The only guest with a T-shirt and shorts, and of course mistaken as a waitress. She glanced around for Quinn. Even Jake or Emily. She didn’t see them.

  A crack sound echoed loudly from the field. A ball being slammed by a wooden bat. Someone hit a home run. A Brewer or a Cub. Sadie could have cared less. It grabbed the attention of everyone on the rooftop. Thank God.

  Celebratory spotlights from the ballpark beamed across the cloudy gray sky. She spotted Jake in the crowd and strode up to him.

  “Have you seen Quinn?”

  “Not since the game started.”

  “Can you tell him I had to get going?”

  “Sure. Anything wrong? You look a little out of it.”

  “Yeah, you could say that. I’ve been alone all night and then some jerk mistook me for a waitress. Not that I wouldn’t mind helping out your sister, but this crowd is a little stiff. And that Drew guy isn’t exactly warm and fuzzy.”

  “I think Quinn is downstairs in Emily’s office with him. He’s a prick. Why don’t you go bust down the door and drag my brother’s ass back up here?”

  “Maybe.” She gave him a quick hug. “Say goodbye to him for me if I don’t succeed.”

  “Sure.”

  As she went downstairs, Sadie unbuttoned her oxford blouse to show off her vintage Brewers tee. At least she would fit in at the bar. The pub tables and bar stools were filled to capacity. She wandered toward the back of the club to find Emily’s office, but didn’t see any distinction on the doors to ascertain if it was an office.

  When she spotted the ladies’ room, she stopped in to slap her cheeks and put color back into her face. She gave her reflection in the mirror a glance and then checked her elbow. “Damn asshole. I never thought of waitressing as a contact sport.” A woman stumbled in and Sadie exited.

  Circling around the bar and through the sweaty crowd one more time, she saw Quinn in the poolroom talking to Drew. When she approached, Drew took off without acknowledging her. Quinn came up and hugged her. “Want to go watch the rest of the game together?”

  “No. I think I’m going to head home.”

  He drew his thumb across her trembling lower lip. “What’s the matter?”

  She kissed the stubble along his jaw. “Nothing.”

  “My ass nothing.” He nestled her against his chest. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m feeling a little…sorry for the bad pun, but I’m feeling out of my league.”

  He chuckled in her ear. “What happened?”

  “There are too many people dressed for success upstairs. It’s like Outliers on the roof.” She dropped her head against his chest. “I should get home. Start on my dissertation while it’s still fresh in my head.”

  He rubbed her arms.

  “Ouch.”

  “What’s the matter?” His words came out in worried rush.

  “Oh nothing. Some drunk guy thought I was his waitress and grabbed me.”

  “Are you all right? Did Emily kick him out?”

  “Don’t freak. I shook him off and his buddies sequestered him.” She kissed him. “I think I’m going to take off.”

  “Are you sure?’ He inspected her elbow and kissed it. “Are you positive you’re not hurt?”

  “Yes. It’s my pride that’s wounded. I think I’m still readjusting to the city. I forgot about the bit of Chicago that I don’t appreciate, entitled boys like the guy who grabbed me. There are a lot like him around—the power-yielding dealers.”

  “You’re…”

  “I’m overreacting?”

  “No. I wasn’t going to say that. I’m pissed. You’re too kind. I want to go find the asshole and have Emily throw him out. Or do it myself.”

  She walked toward the door. “Thanks. You’re my hero.”

  “Do you want a ride home?”

  “Don’t you have to finish with Drew?”

  “Yes,” he spit out.

  “Go work your contractor magic. You are a Wrigley so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Sadie left without kissing him goodbye. She wanted to get home and crawl into bed. Alone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sadie sifted through the stack of Architectural Digest magazines on the coffee table in front of her. She sipped her chai latte while deciding which one to read first. It was Saturday and she had all day and night to read the back issues and catch up on the pertinent home designs. She had to get going on her thesis and plenty of time to procrastinate.

  She pulled out the spring issue highlighting Chicago and skimmed it over. The name Wrigley was printed in the table of contents and underneath it was the same photo Sadie had seen in Chicago Magazine—the shot of Quinn with the steamy Italian brunette. Sadie threw it back on the coffee table but it slid off and onto the Dhurrie rug. At least she wasn’t at last night’s clusterfuck.

  Sadie more than regretted going to the basebal
l game. The party bugged her as did the asshole that thought she was his waitress. She rubbed her arm where he’d grabbed it.

  She had treated Quinn so rudely when she left the Wrigley Club, Sadie wondered if he’d ever talk to her again. What a disaster. She played around with her cell and called him. He didn’t answer. “Not even voicemail? Who does that?”

  It must have needled her more than she realized that Quinn hadn’t bothered to tell her about his prominent family. But that didn’t give her any right to lash out at him. He’d been pretty nice. But compared to Quinn, on the social stratum, she felt like the lowest layer of rock.

  She slipped on her flip-flops and went to water her succulent in the window.

  “Morning,” Ellen chimed. “Why aren’t you with your honey? I thought you two were at the Cubs game last night. Didn’t you stay over at his place?”

  “No. I came home early. It was a bad night. Quinn, his brother, and their affluent friends rubbed me the wrong way. Not sure if I’ll be hearing from him anytime soon after I dissed him for being a Wrigley. Guess I was exhausted and desperate to wake up in my own bed.”

  “Next time, invite me,” Ellen said. “I could use some time with the breathing type of specimens, especially affluent males. Even though my study group is technically made up of human beings, we’re all female with our noses glued in archeology books. Boring. Knuckle-dragging men are entertaining. I’m looking forward to tonight at the Field Museum.”

  “What’s going on? Are you working?” Sadie emptied the last of the water from the watering can into her freakishly large plant and headed back into the kitchen for a refill.

  “There’s a pre-opening gala for the Streets of Chicago exhibit. A private party for the donors. I’m giving tours to guests of the Mummy exhibit and helping the catering staff.” Ellen followed her in and went to the refrigerator.

  “I can’t wait to see that exhibit when it opens to the rest of Chicago next week,” Sadie said. “My advisor included it on my new agenda as required research.”

  Ellen took a spoonful of Greek yogurt. “Want to make some extra cash tonight?”

  Sadie filled the watering can and turned off the faucet. “Always need some spending money. What’s up?”

  “The caterer is short-handed. She’s looking for some waitresses.” Ellen offered her the container of yogurt. “Want this? It doesn’t taste right.”

  “Not into the paste-like creaminess of Greek yogurt? Sure.” Sadie set the can aside, pulled out a clean spoon from the drawer, and grabbed the container from Ellen. “What time are you going over to the museum?”

  “I don’t have to be there until six-ish. But if you want to go wait on tables, you have to be there when they’re setting up, by four. The caterer is paying sixteen bucks an hour. They need people so anytime you get there, I’m pretty sure they can use your expertise.” Ellen stuck her head under the faucet and rinsed out her mouth.

  “My mother would be proud. I’ll never lose the foodie side of me. Once a waitress, always a waitress.”

  “Sadie, you’re a graduate of the architectural history program at the U of C, and will obtain a Master’s degree after writing your thesis on historical preservation from the Art Institute. Don’t let last night get to you.” Ellen grabbed a dishcloth and wiped off her mouth. “When is your next date with Mr. Wrigley?”

  “Don’t know. I think he’s doing something with Jake and Emily. He mentioned something about a family meeting.”

  “When he calls, make sure to thank him for me. For all the steamy hot showers this past week. What a saint. The guy’s a hunk and saved our butts from cold frozen cleanliness. Even out on my last dig, we managed to have hot water rigged up. You have to hold onto that man.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Sadie said. “Do I need to call the caterer? What’s the name?”

  “It’s Shelly. Shelly’s Catering. She’s probably at the museum this morning.”

  “I’ll bike to the museum now. Talk to her in person. And bring along my dress. It’s not supposed to rain. Just a lot of sticky humidity.”

  “She’ll appreciate you. I’ll call and tell her you’re coming. Between Mummy tours, I might help her out and clear tables.”

  “This day is looking up.” Sadie stepped out of the kitchen and went to take a shower.

  “Don’t forget to thank your man for me,” Ellen shouted.

  “Okay.” Sadie grabbed her last clean tank, only clean underwear and cargo shorts out of her dresser. “You might have to thank my man yourself. I need to get to the Laundromat.”

  “Ha. Do you need to borrow some clothes?”

  “No. I can wash up when I get to the museum and then slip on my dress. I’m sure it will look okay waitressing. I’ll pack along my black wrap skirt to fancy it up.”

  “See you later,” Ellen said. “I’m heading to the library.”

  After Ellen left, Sadie showered, dressed, and packed her backpack. On a whim, she threw in her favorite broach to fasten the wrap skirt around her waist—an aspidistra flower-shaped pin. A gift from her mother. The thin petals were studded with colorful semi-precious stones.

  She checked her phone and there were no messages from Quinn. She tucked it in her messenger bag and took off.

  The bike ride to the museum would clear her head. She pedaled east toward the lake. While stopped on the corner to let the traffic on Damen pass, she spotted a bit of silvery green water in the distance. The white caps of Lake Michigan, on the overcast day, boosted her spirits.

  A breeze blew past and she inhaled deeply. She was rewarded with the buttery scent of toasted coconut. Sadie zeroed in on the source of the mouthwatering aroma. The cupcake shop was only half a block away. A pit stop for a cupcake, or two, might be the order of the day. She swung the bike around to head down Damen and clutched the hand brakes. In the shop window across the street she saw four big letters painted in gold. BBRD. Hanging below them a scalloped white banner read, “A Premiere Wrigley Property--Quinn Laughton, Developer.”

  ***

  Quinn threw his tux on the bed and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

  Only three hours of twenty-four.

  The cold water pelted his back and he rehearsed the speech Jake had e-mailed to him earlier. His voice echoed in the granite-tiled room. He glanced over at the built-in sauna and tub and vowed to get Sadie in it with him by the end of the weekend.

  Sadie.

  Why had he invited her to the Wrigley Club in Wrigleyville for a game at Wrigley Field last night? He should have known better. Since he had to babysit Drew, again, after a week of endless meetings, he had to leave Sadie alone on the rooftop with a party of pretentious baseball executives and their wives.

  If he had been watching the game with his beautiful girlfriend, that asshole wouldn’t have laid a hand on her. Though he’d found the guy and had thrown him out of the club, it was too late. Sadie was already gone.

  Quinn lifted the lever until the water turned ice cold and hung his head under the freezing pellets.

  He thought about ignoring his duty as family speaker at the museum, but Jake would never forgive him. He got out of the shower and dried off.

  Tonight, he had to make it up to Sadie. Absolutely no fuck ups. She didn’t need any more officious Wrigley waved in front of her face, so after the damn gala at the museum was over, he would drop by and surprise her by taking her to Emily’s club to see the Foo Fighters.

  Feeling prepared and fucking cold, he dressed quickly and then checked over the printed version of the commemorative address for the museum. Every benefactor of the Wrigley donation who had made the Streets of Chicago exhibit was listed. He rolled his eyes.

  Quinn grabbed the ringing cell off his nightstand. “Sadie?”

  “Oh no, love. Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s Kate. You sound way too serious.”

  “I’m in a tux. I can’t sound anything but stern. The prospect of wearing a cummerbund for hours. You try it.” Quinn strode over and grabbed
his tie from the mirrored valet.

  “You haven’t suffered a smidge. I’m looking forward to a night of Spanx, a Wonderbra, and stilettos. At any moment this evening I could tip over and crack into pieces like a suit of armor. What’s your timeframe? I want to see you. How come Jake picked me up at O’Hare and not you?”

  He held the brocade tie in front of his chest and tossed it on the bed. “Hectic day. Jake needed something to do. I have a lot to catch you up on.” He slipped on the patent leather shoes and frowned. “Thank you for being my date. But I think I can go it alone. I trust you’ll sign BBRD over to me sometime while you’re in the States before Suze and Jake have a baby.”

  “It’s been six months since I’ve seen you. I wouldn’t miss you for the world. You need me to make you look good, buddy. And I want to see the Streets exhibit. Just because that grand family of yours sponsored it doesn’t mean you should shun it.”

  “Yeah. I know. I have my speech memorized. I’m set to go. Do you have a ride there and back? I’m going at seven and leaving at ten sharp.” He pulled the bowtie off the valet stand.

  “Will you be turning into a pumpkin? What’s the rush?”

  “Long story. I’m taking the Porsche and need to get up to Wrigleyville. I’m picking up someone on the way.”

  “Someone? Can’t wait to hear about it. I’m driving with Suze and Jake from the ‘burbs. Your sister-in-law may not make it through the dedication ceremony. Her petite ankles are puffy. Later, hon.”

  “Thanks, Kate.” He slipped his phone into his pocket and checked his shave in the mirror. He’d get a new razor tomorrow. The bit of stubble would have to stay.

  Before heading to the Field Museum, Quinn wanted to stop into the Wrigley Club to make certain the Foo were playing. His sister wouldn’t know for certain until later, but he could check the area and see if there was any gossip floating around the bars on Addison.

  Quinn left his bowtie untied and headed out. In the Porsche, he slid a FF disc into the stereo. The Fighters’ song Pretender started playing and he turned up the volume as he sped north on Lake Shore Drive.