Laughter erupted from the waiting customers as well as those that were seated in the dining area. The young man was very entertaining.
“I know what I ordered…can I speak to the manager,” Amber whined.
“Solaaay!” the fellow with the long hair yelled. He rolled his eyes at Amber. “Who’s next?”
A nice-looking woman immediately emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Lincoln smiled with recognition. She was the owner. She’d introduced herself and forced a cupcake on him during his last visit.
“What’s going on?” the owner asked, her forehead creased with concern.
“She claims she asked you to put sprinkles on the Vanilla Kiss order. She must have imagined that crap. I told her we don’t mess up orders here at Scandalicious!”
“Okay, Vidal. That’s enough.” The owner turned her attention on Amber. “I’m really sorry for the mix-up. I’ll take care of it right now.” She picked up the red box and disappeared into the back area.
Five minutes later, she returned with the red box and another smaller box on top of it. “I gave you an extra half-dozen of Vanilla Kiss.”
“Ooo, thanks,” Amber squealed. “That’s really kind of you.”
Lincoln met up with Amber at the counter. He stacked the boxes and said hello to the owner.
“We meet again,” the bakery owner said, remembering Lincoln. “It appears that you’ve developed a sweet tooth, after all. My secret ingredients can be addictive.”
He laughed. “No, I’m the muscle. Only here for pick-up only. But you do have a cult following. Our coworkers weren’t interested in spending lunch together until Amber here, mentioned Scandalicious cupcakes were on the menu.”
“Aw, thank you,” the owner said sincerely. “Take a card. Take several cards and give them to your coworkers.
Lincoln’s hands were occupied with the three red boxes. Holding only the smaller box, Amber took the business cards.
After the three larger boxes were secured on the floor of the backseat of his car, Lincoln maneuvered out of the tight parking spot. “Nice lady at the cupcake shop,” he murmured absently.
“That trick always works,” Amber responded, running her fingers over the top of the box.
“What trick?”
“Complaining about stuff gets you freebies. I call and complain about products that I use all the time. Like shampoo, my favorite frozen dinner, even toilet paper. Manufacturers will send you a ton of coupons.”
He waited for her to explain. When she didn’t, he said, “And? What are you trying to say?”
“They didn’t mess up the cupcake order. I just said that—and look!” She proudly held up the glossy red box. “But these extras are for me; I’m not sharing them.”
Lincoln gave Amber a sidelong glance. She was a pretty young woman—a little too chatty for his taste, but he’d considered her to be normal. Now he knew better. Amber was a nutjob. A petty thief and a liar. He was of a mind to give her a stern lecture, but changed his mind. She wasn’t his goddamned daughter, so fuck it! He hoped for the boss’s sake that he wasn’t screwing around with Amber. But then again, after the way the boss had screwed over his staff, having a twisted little crook like Amber in his life was exactly what he deserved.
Lincoln decided that he’d go back to Scandalicious after work and pay for those stolen cupcakes. He felt responsible for bringing a con artist into that hard-working, young woman’s shop.
He shot another glance at Amber. She was looking out of the window, a half-smile on her lips, obviously very pleased with the trophy on her lap. He peered at her warily and made a mental note to keep his desk locked. His favorite pen had gone missing a couple of days ago. Last week his stapler with the wood grain design grew legs and walked away. Now he wondered if Amber was the culprit. He picked up speed, anxious to get her out of his car.
Rachel had to handle the phones during the lunchtime get-together. Being a gentleman, Lincoln brought a plastic plate piled with wing dings, potato salad and a soft roll to the reception desk.
“Wow, thanks, Lincoln. I would have made my own plate, but Amber hasn’t shown up to relieve me. She told me she had to set out the cupcakes…what’s she doing; baking them?”
“She and Frank were talking the last time I saw her.”
“I’m keeping my eye on that one. She has the boss wrapped around her finger. This little shindig was her idea, you know.”
“Yeah. Bridging the gap between the old staff and the newcomers.” Lincoln gave a sardonic chuckle. “Oh, I forgot to bring you something to drink. What would you like; Coke or Sprite?”
“Diet Coke.” Rachel beamed. “There aren’t many more gentlemen like you. At least not here at Clemmons and Associates. Your type is a dying breed. Those dot-com-era kids are taking over this firm. The boss says they’re going to bring cutting-edge architectural designs to the firm. Hmph. Those young bozos don’t even have decent manners. They’re all disrespectful and really rude,” Rachel said bitterly and then bit into a wing ding.
Lincoln took the stairs to the top floor of the three-story office building and quickly returned with the Diet Coke and two cupcakes on a festive-colored paper plate.
“Oh, how pretty,” she said, smiling as she accepted the cupcakes. Two seconds later, she was scowling. “Young people and this cupcake craze is really something. There’s really nothing new under the sun, you know. My grandmother made cupcakes all the time; it was no big deal. Now with all these fancy flavors, people treat them like they’re a novelty.”
He nodded, intent on Rachel’s face, wondering if he should warn her that Amber was a thief. No, he’d keep that information to himself. Rachel gossiped too much and the last thing he needed was to be accused of spreading malicious office gossip. Rachel would discover in due time that there was a thief among them.
Trying to park on South Street during rush hour was ridiculous. Lincoln circled the block five or six times before giving up on finding a spot. Exasperated, he pulled into a lot. His brows shot up in disbelief. Sixteen dollars for the first half-hour! It was highway robbery, but he didn’t have a choice. He’d have to pay for those cupcakes in a hurry and then hustle back to his car before the half-hour lapsed.
It ate away at him that Chevonne had to cover more than her share of the household expenses; money was too tight for him to be throwing it away on parking.
Standing outside of the business premises, Lincoln took a moment to absorb the colorful Scandalicious sign that was positioned above the door. Nice. The owner was about her business, and he admired her drive.
There was a different vibe inside the bakery with the after-work crowd. Though all the seats were taken, and while there was a cluster of people waiting to be served at the counter, the pulse of the bakery had slowed down. The atmosphere had changed from frenzied to peaceful. Lincoln noticed that the clientele were all from different walks of life. It surprised him to see three mature businessmen grouped around one of the Parisian-styled tables.
The owner, Solay, was taking the orders, and that might have accounted for the calm that permeated. Mr. Fancy Pants—the gay dude—exuded a lot of frenetic energy. Lincoln wasn’t a homophobe…or at least he didn’t think he was. But he did have strong opinions about a man wearing female hairstyles, man-scara, and lip gloss and gesturing in an expansive, feminine way. That kind of behavior seemed rather “extra.”
Lincoln got in line, hoping it would move swiftly. He didn’t want to spend a fortune on parking while doing a good deed and paying for the cupcakes that his psycho coworker had swindled from the bakery.
When he reached the front of the line, Solay smiled. “Oh, it’s you again! Well, hello. I guess you’re a converted cupcake lover, now.”
“No, I’m still a French fries and cheese curls type of guy.” He cracked a smile as he pulled his wallet from his pocket. “I wanted to pay for those extra cupcakes that you gave my coworker.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Those were on the house.
” She waved her hand dismissively.
“My, uh…my coworker made a mistake,” he stammered, uncomfortable with the wording. What his coworker had actually done was lied and cheated this industrious young woman simply for fun. “You didn’t mess up the order. She realized when we got back to the office that she hadn’t asked for any sprinkles.” He felt ridiculous talking about sprinkles and it was rather silly to go out of his way to pay for some extra cupcakes. But it was a matter of principle. He was like that—a stand-up guy.
“Aw, I’m touched that you went to so much trouble. But I can’t accept your money. We all make mistakes sometimes. I had extras, anyway. It was no big deal. Seriously.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” She smiled, but her eyes were sad. Lincoln wondered why.
“Everyone at work raved about the cupcakes, so while I’m here let me grab a half-dozen.”
Solay arched a brow.
“Not for me! Since I’m here, I might as well pick up dessert for my kids,” he added with laughter.
She laughed with him, but there was something wrong. Behind her smile was pain. Raw pain was apparent in her eyes. But it wasn’t any of his business, and so he paid for the cupcakes, gave a hand wave and left.
Having squared away business with Solay, his conscience was clear. Checking his watch, Lincoln walked briskly, eager to get his car out of the expensive garage.
CHAPTER 43
“It looks like the deal isn’t going to go through,” Colden told Melanee.
“What deal?” Melanee asked, feeling slightly nervous.
“The deal with Madam.”
“Oh.” Melanee’s breath caught in her chest.
“She’s a fickle person. She’s going to be traveling back and forth to Toronto. She said that she doesn’t have the time to train you.”
“I see,” Melanee said, with a tiny smile.
“Madam Midnight has her hands in everything. Her latest interest is the film industry.”
“Is Madam starting an acting career?”
“No. She’s producing movies. But it’s just a phase. Like everything else, she’ll grow bored with the film industry. Residential and commercial real estate is her real bread and butter. Everything else is just a hobby.”
Though she’d pretended that she didn’t really want to go to Madam, she suspected that Colden had known all along that she was infatuated with the enigmatic woman. Madam mesmerized everyone, which was why she had a revolving door of willing submissives.
Melanee could tell that Colden had been secretly jealous of her infatuation with Madam. That jealousy had prompted him to become a more attentive master.
Melanee was relieved that she had rediscovered her fierce desire for Colden before she went traipsing off to Madam’s house. What would she have done if she’d lost her precious master? The night that he’d decorated her ass with his hand prints, had been a turning point in their relationship, bringing them closer together—making them both realize they were perfect for each other.
“With Madam out of the picture, there’s no reason for us to be apart.”
Melanee’s heartbeat picked up. “There isn’t?”
“No, I think you’ve learned your lesson. Do you think that you can be obedient around the clock?”
“Yes, Master!”
“Pack your things; you’re coming back home tonight.”
“Thank you, Master!” Melanee shouted. Her mind was spinning with delightful visions of being spanked, leashed and collared, and tied up for hours.
It was a half-hour until closing. Both Melanee and Vidal had already gone for the day. Behind the counter, Solay observed the customers that were seated throughout the dining area. Couples. Groups of friends. Coworkers unwinding after an eight-hour day. The harmonic tones of the intermingled conversations reverberated around the room. Pleasant chatter, and scatters of easy laughter from happy people, seemingly without a care.
Solay envied her customers’ peace of mind—their satisfaction with their lives. Her life was shit. Love was the worst thing that could happen to a woman. Love was disruptive, all consuming, destined to end in heartache.
Deon and that woman. He’d been lying to her all along. On the verge of tears, she was jolted back to her professional demeanor when a patron approached the counter. “Two Red Hot Passions,” a pretty blonde-haired woman requested.
“To go?” Solay asked hopefully. She was ready to close up shop, and acquiesce to another round of self-pity and mournful sobbing.
“No, they’re for here. The vibe here is amazing.”
“Oh, thank you.” Solay forced a painful smile as she placed the cupcakes on two small, red paper plates.
“I’m on a blind date—an Internet hook-up,” the woman added, nodding over to her table where another female sat. “I have to tell you, the ambience is terrific—sensual and kinky…I love it.”
Solay was surprised to see that the blind date was a woman. She found it particularly curious that the date was also thin, blonde, and pretty—a darker blonde version of the woman at the counter. And judging from her dreamy expression, she was pleased with the hookup, too.
What was going on in the dating world? Women were hooking up with women who bore a close resemblance to themselves. Was it so hard to make a heterosexual relationship work that women were turning to their virtual clones for intimacy?
The last few customers left at six-thirty—a half-hour before closing. It had been a long day; Solay wasn’t in the emotional shape to exchange pleasantries with any more patrons. She put the “closed” sign in the window and began straightening up.
She wiped off the tables in the dining room, holding back tears as she rushed through the task. She’d been coping with an aching heart all day, masking her pain as best she could as she interacted with patrons and staff. Now she yearned to mourn in private. In the solitude of her little apartment, she could freely shed a rivulet of tears.
Before turning off the lights, and going upstairs, she checked the kitchen, making sure that it was in pristine, clean condition. She heard the bell jingle, and sucked her teeth. Pests! she said to herself, picking up on Vidal’s expression. Despite the “closed” sign in the window, someone was trying the doorknob, causing the overhead bell to jingle a refrain. Her first thought was to hide out in the kitchen until the pesky customer went away.
But the bell sounded again. Solay sighed, and stalked out of the kitchen, hoping she could keep a civil tone when she turned the customer away.
Her heart dropped. It wasn’t a cupcake-craving patron on the other side of the glass door. Deon was peering into Scandalicious, radiating warmth, love, and a heavy dose of sensuality.
CHAPTER 44
Deon was holding his motorcycle helmet in his hands, wearing a black leather jacket and black leather driving gloves. It was a damn disgrace that one man could possess all the traits that Deon had going on. A hot body, succulent lips, gorgeous face, and he made love like a porn star.
She unlocked and yanked the door open. “Why are you here?” she said coldly.
“We need to talk.” He reached for her hand; she snatched it back as if scorched.
“There’s nothing to say,” she hissed.
“I know how it must have looked…but can I explain?”
“No,” she said exasperated. “I’m tired of all your convenient excuses. Go away, Deon. Go be with your wealthy socialite; I don’t care anymore.” She turned away and headed for the kitchen.
“Baby, baby, baby…” He rushed behind her, following her through the set of swinging kitchen doors. “Hear me out. For one minute! That’s all I’m asking.”
She kept walking until she reached the sink. Not knowing what else to do, she picked up a sponge, deciding to wipe the metal tables that were already sparkling clean.
With her back turned to Deon, Solay spoke. “I don’t…want to hear…any more…of your bullshit,” she said, her words separated by gasps, sniffles, and little whimpers.
> He came up behind her, gently touched her shoulder, coaxing her to turn around.
It was the tenderness of his touch that caused her to completely lose her composure. She sucked in a huge backdraft of air, filling her lungs and swelling her chest, followed by an anguished wail.
Holding her, caressing her, comforting her as her body caved into his, Deon was wracked by her raw, gut-wrenching, uncontrollable sobs.
Deon murmured in her ear. “Let it out, baby. I’m so sorry. Go ahead, cry. I gotchu. I swear I never meant to hurt you.”
Finally, Solay calmed down enough to form coherent speech. “Why did you lie and tell me you had an audition in New York?”
“I did, and I got the part!”
“I don’t understand. You said you’d call me if you got the part, but instead, you went out with a client.”
“She wasn’t a client, Solay. Her name is Quintouria Stevens. She’s one of the executive producers of the film. Instead of staying in New York and auditioning for the commercial, my agent wanted me to come back to Philly and go to that charity event with the three producers. It’s called schmoozing, babe. That’s all I was doing.”
Solay let out a long sigh. “I’m really happy for you, Deon. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. And what’s up with you—showcasing your cupcakes at that event? What was that—top secret? Why’d you keep something like big from me?”
“It wasn’t intentional. I was busy trying to make it happen, and I never got around to telling you.”
“That makes sense.”
“So where do we go from here, Deon? Is this relationship permanently damaged? Do you think there’s a future with us?”
“I hope so. But I have to tell you something.” There was a sad look in his eyes.
“What?”
“We start shooting soon. I’m leaving for Toronto tomorrow, and I’ll be there for the next three months.”
“Three months in Toronto!” Her hand pressed against her mouth. Her eyes were wide with startled hurt.
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