by Sean Platt
“You said you were closed.”
“When you charge as much as I charge,” said Antonia, reaching for a huge mass of carbs drizzled with white and dark chocolate, an enormous wedge of Godiva emerging like an iceberg from its spiraled top, “you really can’t sell much that’s more than a day old.” She pulled the dessert topside, set it on a small white plate, and pushed the plate toward Lily. “Now eat up, or Cielo del Mar is going to have some very fat hobos.”
Lily stared at the dessert. It looked like a hug from God. Despite the hour, it even smelled fresh. She felt herself salivating, realizing that the clock had advanced past dark and she hadn’t eaten since lunch at Len’s cart.
“I don’t think there are hobos in Cielo del Mar.”
“Honey, every beach has hobos. Hobos and crabs. Or hobos with crabs. Although possibly Kerry heads out each night and eats them when she’s in succubus form. Now eat. You’re too damn skinny.”
Lily looked down. She’d actually gained five pounds in the two weeks she’d been wrangling her shop. She loved to run and used the meditative pounding of her feet on pavement to decompress, but hadn’t had the hours since opening La Fleur. Maybe that was why her wires felt so jumbled. But when was she supposed to run, given her schedule? Was she supposed to shortchange the five nightly hours of sleep she’d barely been getting?
Antonia circled the counter, set the plate atop one of the small round tables strewn across the bakery’s front, along the window. There were two cute little chairs bunkering each table, looking like something out of a Parisian sidewalk café. Lily was already halfway into one chair. Antonia settled into the second.
She held up two forks. “I’ll split it with you, if it makes you feel any better. But here’s the thing. I’m quite insightful, and if you force me I’ll manipulate you into eating the whole thing.”
Lily looked up. “Yeah?”
“Oh yes. So here’s just a taste: You watch these people around the plaza, and you think about how while you envy their money, you’d never want to be like them. Especially the women.”
“Well … ” Lily had already formed tacit friendships with several of her customers, whom she liked just fine.
Antonia held up a hand. The few burns and cuts gave it character. Imperfect, yes. But that’s what made Antonia different. Better.
“Especially the women,” Antonia repeated. “Not all of them, sure. But most. Because you see them clacking around on their four-inch heels, somehow avoiding every pit in the paving stones, and you see how hard they’re working to impress you.”
“Me?”
Antonia shrugged. “You. Me. Anyone. Most of all themselves. But what does it mean when you have to stage such an elaborate show just to impress yourself?”
“Maybe they just like looking nice. Maybe it makes them feel good.”
“Some of them, maybe,” said the baker. “But I think we both know that when the runway models around this place pass thirty, they’re going to try even harder to look like they’re twenty-five. And when they turn forty, they’ll do their damnedest to pretend they’re twenty. That’s when you start to see all the shaped noses and sinewy legs. That’s these girls feeling they were worth looking at and talking to when they were young, but now probably aren’t. And you, Lily, you think it’s sad. You don’t want to, because you think it means you’re judging them. But you do just the same.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because of how you carry yourself. You’re not trying to be anything you’re not. You stick out like a sore thumb, honey. Surely you’ve noticed.”
“I … ”
“It’s not an insult. It’s a compliment.” Antonia looked down at her own body. She was very pretty but not at all the stick-thin plastic surgery Barbies she’d just described. She was round in all the right places, but on Antonia the look was voluptuous and sexy, not overweight. She had large breasts and a waist that was offset by larger-than-Vogue-models hips. “Look at me. I’m not the gal to tell you to walk with a book balanced on the top of your head and a stick up your butt. And when I say you ‘stick out,’ that’s a good thing too. I’ve seen the way men look at you.”
“They don’t look at me,” Lily said, turning away.
“Sure they don’t.” Antonia smiled, brushing her long red hair behind her shoulders. “I’ve been here for almost thirty years, and Bella by the Sea over there has been here for five. I’ve had the pleasure of watching those fine men come and go through my window all that time, but I’ve never seen Matthew Vitale outside anywhere near as often as he’s been out recently.”
“Matt?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about. If I was younger … ” She shivered.
Lily felt charmed. She’d enjoyed talking to Allison earlier in the day, and Allison felt like a dirty little gal pal she might have had in high school. But Antonia, who had to be twice Allison’s age, actually managed to sound younger and giddier as she dished about Bella’s man candy.
“So here,” said Antonia, again pushing the plate toward Lily. “You join me right now and relax into a few hundred well-deserved empty calories, or I’ll tell you how, by refusing, you’re being just like all those sad ladies you feel bad for. The California dolls who will stop loving themselves once they stop turning heads. A healthy person isn’t afraid to indulge a little.”
Lily looked at the rich dessert. There was no way even half of the thing was only “a few hundred calories,” but Antonia was right. She’d felt sad wondering how many of the beautiful people outside based their self-worth on what others thought of them, and she’d been contemplating what Allison had said all afternoon: You care too much what other people think of you. She wouldn’t be like that, and didn’t particularly want Antonia’s reminder.
Lily picked up the fork. “Fine. You win.” She sunk the tines into soft dough and slid a bite into her mouth. Her eyes closed involuntarily, pleasure bubbling across her tongue and brain. It was true, what they said. Chocolate really could be as good as sex. Not that Lily had much of a frame of reference for either lately.
Antonia joined her, not so much eating the confection as experiencing it. She moved slowly, taking her time to chew and swallow each bite, making little pleased noises now and again. As with Antonia’s earlier boy-crazy comment, Lily found herself charmed by Antonia’s youthful aura. She’d made this little cake, and yet she clearly felt no call from modesty. Good was good, and sweet was sweet, no matter who took the credit.
She set her fork down, sitting back.
“Good thing about being my age is that if you’re lucky, you do kind of settle into who you are. I used to sweat a perfect waistline and try to stay on top of all the right fashions, but those things change too quickly. Even the bodies everyone expects us to have change every few decades.”
Lily looked up. It was the speech of someone who was surrendering into wearing sweatpants while growing into her couch like a tree into a nearby fence. But Antonia was beautiful and understatedly elegant, managing to hold that vibe while looking like she was above it all.
“But back in the day, I used to rattle some headboards.”
Lily put her hand over her mouth to keep from spitting her final few chews of dessert.
“Just back in the day?” Lily was enjoying this encounter far, far more than she’d anticipated. The whole point of coming in was to somehow finagle an allegiance to protect her tenancy in the Palms, but she’d already forgotten that she’d entered like a commander in battle. And yet she’d earned her ally anyway … along with some cake and girl talk. It felt great to unwind, under someone else’s roof, and let them take care of her for a while. To chat for no reason. To have a friend, and forget her many stressors and problems.
“It’s different now, is all. Living here, being new to my business, fighting to stay afloat in this place … it’s all settled down, but it was energizing. Used to be, I almost wanted to keep score. And it was fun. But just like the women with their
perfectly toned legs and on-fire-this-minute fashions, it was so immediate, so hard to keep up with because nothing lasted. Nothing could last. Now I’d rather find one headboard to rattle with the same guy over and over.”
Lily feigned a confused look. “What, you don’t have a headboard on your bed now?”
“Actually, no. It has posts. No jokes about rattling the posts.”
“I’ll bet Kerry rattles the posts on her bed.”
This time, Antonia was the one to nearly spit her food all over the floor.
“That’s disgusting,” said Antonia. “But probably true.”
“She probably breaks one off every once in a while. She probably has a bunch of spares in her closet.”
“I’ll bet her crotch has jaws,” said Antonia.
“And teeth.”
“Men run screaming.”
“Like from Bigfoot.”
“Why Bigfoot?”
Lily shrugged. “I don’t know. Big hairy beast.”
“But Bigfoot is supposed to be a gentle giant. And you know there’s no hair on Kerry’s playing field. It’s probably all raw, floppy skin. Like one of those hairless cats. You’d see it and you’d run off and call a doctor. Or you’d come back with torches like villagers come to take down Frankenstein’s monster.”
Lily had already put down her fork, but her stomach was starting to ache with laughter. She didn’t bother to wipe her tears. She’d needed a catharsis more than she’d realized. The thought reminded her strangely of her earlier chat with Len, and how they still had their not-a-date date scheduled for tomorrow night. If she were like Allison, she’d have another catharsis waiting in twenty-four hours. A one-two punch of emotional and physical release.
“Oh, hell,” Lily said, trying to regain her composure.
Antonia, recovering more quickly, picked up her fork and did more damage to the chocolate confection between them. “On a serious note, though,” she said. “About Kerry.”
“You want me to watch out because when she spreads her legs, it looks like a bat taking flight?”
Antonia snorted, this time dropping her fork. It was another two minutes before either of them were able to cease their tears of laughter and trailing giggles.
“Okay,” said Lily. “Okay, I can’t take it anymore.”
“Said Kerry Barrett Kirby never,” Antonia added.
“Antonia, stop it!”
“Want me to go and get you a bedpost to chew on?”
“Seriously. My stomach hurts. I’m going to throw up all this cake you made me eat.”
“Okay. Okay, fine. I can do this.”
Lily fought the urge to make another joke, but her abs ached from contraction. Who needed to go running? A conversation with Antonia was all the exercise she needed.
“She complained about my cart.”
Antonia looked up. “I thought she snubbed you in her store.”
Lily wanted to laugh, this time from irony. It really had been the longest day in history. She could hardly believe it was only this morning that she’d last spoken to Antonia, about Kerry’s little game in offering Lily half off at her store, knowing she couldn’t afford even that. She’d put the cart display outside in defiance. Evelyn’s visit had come a few hours later. So much tit-for-tat in a just a dozen hours.
Lily sighed. “She did. After talking to you about it, I got my dander up. So I dragged the flower cart I had inside out into the—”
“Oh, you mean your outside display. I saw it. She complained about that?”
“Well, I got a visit from Evelyn Pierce from the leasing office. An ‘anonymous complaint.’” Lily explained what had happened with Evelyn: how she had turned the tables on the befuddled agent, sending her away with a bouquet and leaving her cart right where it was until closing time.
Antonia laughed. “You’ve got some chops, honey. Kerry knows better than to pull that shit with me, but if she did — especially back when I was new — I don’t know that I’d have had the guts to ignore it. Good for you.”
Lily’s earlier feelings were flooding back, suffusing the pleasant glow of gossipy conversation that she’d managed, for a while, to escape into. She’d pulled the cart back into the shop at the end of the day with the distinct feeling that she’d dodged a bullet — or perhaps more accurately that she’d been in a sniper’s crosshairs but had somehow, against all odds, been spared. She’d wondered whether she’d be brave enough to put the cart out again in the morning or if she’d back off. Putting it out anew made a serious statement. The question was whether or not her “anonymous complainant” would be willing to listen. Siccing the office on La Fleur couldn’t possibly be the only arrow in Kerry’s quiver.
“Yeah. Good for me,” Lily said.
“She’ll keep making little jabs at you. And this will really piss her off, for sure.”
“Do you think it’s definitely Kerry?”
“Sure it is.” Antonia nodded. “There are rules about outdoor displays. Surely you’ve noticed that nobody does it.”
nouveau house did it. There were always several very comfortable-looking chairs and a prop or two (like a faux-antique telescope or globe) outside the store. Lily had noticed because a clerk inside ran out frequently to chase away people with the audacity to think that chairs were for sitting.
Antonia was nodding. “Right. Just another little control thing for her. She probably doesn’t even care about putting her stuff outside; she probably just does it to prove she can. That store is an anchor, and every time the landlord has even thought about telling nouveau house what to do, Kerry throws a little huff and threatens to leave and build her own freestanding place up the shore, on this ratty little plot of land she bought specifically to make her threat seem genuine. As if she ever would, though. Like all bullies, she’s secretly a coward. But also like all bullies, she has her face in everyone’s business, making sure nobody has her power. The flower shops before you tried outdoor displays, too, you know.”
“My aunt used to do it at her shop. It’s the only way to really attract passersby.”
“None lasted the day. When I saw yours out there that long, I figured Kerry was slipping.”
“So if she’s a coward,” said Lily, “should I just put it out again tomorrow, because she can’t actually do anything?”
Antonia laughed, said, “Kerry can do plenty,” then gestured toward the last bit of cake, urging Lily to take it.
“Should I put it out again tomorrow?” Lily repeated.
“If you want to piss her off and force her to do worse, absolutely.”
“That’s not really advice.” Lily felt her mood deflating.
Antonia pushed back from the table, then moved her chair to the side so there was nothing between her and Lily. She leaned forward, hands on knees, and looked at Lily with serious blue eyes.
“Let me ask you something, honey. Did Evelyn tell you how many tenants Kerry’s had evicted from the Palms?”
“I only know about the flower shops,” said Lily. “So I guess at least four?”
Antonia shook her head. “Zero.”
“Zero?”
“Everyone who’s left has either gone out of business or fled on their own. She blusters a lot, but she’s never actually, to my knowledge, managed to get someone directly evicted.”
Lily felt herself grasping at straws, but grabbed anyway.
“So I don’t need to worry?”
Antonia gave a somewhat pitying smile. “You’re not accounting for why they went out of business or left.”
“So I do need to worry.”
Antonia patted her knee. “Let’s just say you need to worry differently.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FAIR GAME
The next day was impossibly longer than the last.
Lily came in after a rough night, warring emotions and a strobing recall of conversations with Len, Antonia, and Allison. She felt like a different woman than she’d been just twenty-four hours before, but while it felt
like a good thing it was also disorienting and exhausting.
Climbing the steps to her apartment, Lily wondered if Dusty would try to accost her with conversation — or if, instead, he’d seen her coming but had been deterred by her don’t mess with me face.
When Lily bought stock at the market — a larger-than-anticipated order; yesterday had been busy if still not terribly profitable, and Bella by the Sea would need fresh blooms if Marcello had his way — she paused at the lilies, wondering if her decision to buy more than normal was due to business sense … or if she was buying more because she liked them and planned to take some home, because she was done with always thinking of others first.
When, around lunchtime, Matt Vitale entered La Fleur to accept Bella’s refill in his grumbling, annoyed way, Lily couldn’t help but think of what Antonia had said about him. He really did seem to hate coming into the shop, and wasn’t particularly polite. But he was quite possibly the most handsome man she’d ever met, and there was an understated softness in his bluer-than-blue eyes that made Lily wonder if some of his cockiness was an act … or a defense. She watched him come and go from the corner of her eye, noticing the way he seemed to peek back.
I’ve never seen Matthew Vitale outside anywhere near as often as he’s been out recently.
But wouldn’t he have to come outside, if his father sent him over to retrieve the floral order he despised so much?
When Matt left with his final armload, he said four words to Lily in parting: “Have a nice day.” She hated herself a little for the way she reacted to such a simple, phoning-it-in farce of decorum. He’d been nothing but cocksure and irritating throughout their transaction, but tossing her that tiny bone at the end was almost enough to forgive it. She felt herself wanting to melt, to giggle something pathetic back in kind. But that was probably the way all the SoCal Barbies reacted, and she wasn’t one of them. Lily swallowed her response, ignored her heart’s flutter, and thanked him professionally for his business. For his father’s business.