Working in Hollywood, we had some weird hours too. It wasn’t like this was a new thing for me… but also in Hollywood, we sometimes had night shoots where I didn’t have to be on set until 6:00 pm.
There was a balance there. Here? It was the same thing each day. Except that two days a week, our baby brother Finn filled in, giving Liam and me each one day off a week. Thank God for that.
I reached up to grab the bag of almond flour off the top shelf. Searing pain shot down my arm to my elbow, and I cried out, grabbing my shoulder and grunting as the bag of almond flour fell at my feet in a cloud of white.
“Fuck!” I shouted and punched the door with my good hand. When I tore my rotator cuff three months ago, I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy rehab. But I didn’t expect the difficulty of everyday things to be this extensive.
Liam came rushing into the back. “You okay?” he cut himself off, coughing and waving away the cloud of almond flour from his face. “Shit, dude. What happened?”
“I tried to get the flour from the top shelf,” I grunted.
“Use a step stool next time.”
I couldn’t bring myself to look up at Liam yet. The pain was now fading to a dull ache, but I was going to feel that one for days, I just knew it.
“My height wasn’t the problem.” I reached for the mop in the closet and got to work cleaning up the mess.
Liam’s hand came down on top of mine over the mop handle. “I know,” he said gently. Sliding the mop out of my hand, I didn’t argue with him as he took over cleanup. It wasn’t often my brother softened around me. He spent most of his days arguing and glaring at me. At least lately. There was a time before I left for Boston that he and I had been friends. Best friends, even.
I missed him when I moved away. I missed my whole damn family. Sure, I had visited from time to time, but it wasn’t the same. So, when Mom called me with her diagnosis, there was no choice to make. I was moving back. Despite my tense family situation, I wanted to be here. And yes, Liam was right, the timing worked out since I no longer had a career as a stunt double after I blew out my shoulder. What good was a stunt double who couldn’t even lift a bag of flour? I was pathetic.
But it was funny how life worked out. I was happiest when I was in the kitchen baking. Even back in LA, I would try my hand at making various protein-infused treats. If I could only get my siblings to forgive me, I might find happiness—real happiness—back here in Maple Grove. Even still, a pang settled in my heart about the thought of my stunt career being over.
Liam and I managed to clean up the mess quickly. A few minutes later at seven o’clock, my phone chimed with the daily alarm I set to remind us to unlock the door and officially open. Yes, we needed to remind ourselves to open the bakery—we’d both get so in our zone of baking in the back that we’d forget to open the door for actual paying customers. Not that we had a ton of those in the first place.
“It’s time,” I groaned, taking another sip of my coffee. Even though it was tourist season in the Lakes Region of New Hampshire, we still only got a trickle of people coming in to buy coffee and baked goods throughout the day. Afternoons were our sweeter spot. I actually couldn’t believe how much competition there was in our little town. Maple Grove was littered with bakeries, coffee shops, and restaurants. It was the plight of a tourist town on a lake. It blew my mind. Granted, my mother’s shop was one of the first—she opened The Maple Grove Cupcakery thirty years ago. But thirty years ago, this location in Maple Grove was a popular business area. Now? Not so much. Most of the businesses on our street had either closed entirely or had been converted into storage. Behind the Cupcakery, there was a massive, empty warehouse. No doubt part of the reason business was slow. Who wanted to come to this desolate neighborhood when a couple blocks away there was a bustling Main Street with several bakeries and shops?
Liam crossed toward the door, drawing back the curtains and tying them, as I straightened the display case of croissants.
“Uh…. Neil,” he said. His voice made me uneasy, and I looked up to find his back to me as he stared out the window.
“What’s wrong?”
“I… there’s…” He stood there, staring, his words coming out incoherently.
“Jesus, Liam. Use your words, dude,” I snapped and crossed from behind the counter toward him. I was still grumpy because of my shoulder and I was lashing out at him, probably unfairly. I froze when I saw what he was staring at. Outside, a line was formed in front of our bakery, leading up to our door.
“What the hell?”
Liam looked at me, his expression just as bewildered as I felt. “Is there some festival in town today?” he asked.
“On a Monday?”
We glanced at each other before quickly rushing toward the door, unlocking it and peering outside at the line. There were easily thirty people standing in line, most scrolling through their phones. At the sight of us, a few of them cheered at the front until, like a wave, the entire line of people was cheering because we were open.
“You all are here for us?” I asked, and Liam elbowed me.
“I don’t know why they’re here, Neil, but questioning it isn’t a good marketing plan.”
Well, I couldn’t argue with that, could I? I stepped to the side, gesturing for them all to enter. “Come on in,” I said. “We’re open.”
It wasn’t until they all started shuffling inside that I realized every single person in line was a woman. Every. Single. Person.
No families. No men. No girls…. women. And as they walked past us, they blinked, batting their overly made-up eyelashes.
“Can we take a selfie?” a girl with curly blonde hair asked, her cell phone clutched to her chest.
“Uhh…” I couldn’t even form a decent answer until Liam kicked me. “Sure?” I don’t know why it came out as a question.
She gave a little, excited squeak and rushed to stand next to me. Pushing up onto her toes, her cheek pressed against mine. She smiled for the camera and I did my best not to grimace. What in the ever-living fuck was even happening right now?
“Thank you!” she said, grinning so widely it was like a watermelon slice was wedged between her lips. “We drove up from Massachusetts after seeing your picture on Facebook. My sister’s getting married in a few months and we would love a consultation.”
There was so much to untangle from what she just said; it was all knotted up in my brain. “I’m sorry… my picture on Facebook?”
My brother poked his head into the conversation. “We’d love to schedule a consultation, isn’t that right, Neil? Is it for the wedding cake?”
She glanced between Liam and me, two blotches of red blooming against the pale tone of her cheeks. “For the bachelorette party,” she said.
Liam and I exchanged careful glances. “Massachusetts is outside of our delivery range,” I said, glaring at my brother. We are not taking a gig that is a ninety-minute drive each way for a fucking cupcake delivery.
“Oh, no!” She waved her hands in front of her. “We would plan the party up here on the lake.”
“Why?” I said. Liam’s lips disappeared into a thin line, and he elbowed me in the stomach. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean it to sound rude, but…” I looked outside the window at our sleepy New Hampshire town and shrugged. “But… why?” Honestly, there was no other way to ask that question. We only had one strip club right on the edge of town, and to my knowledge, it was only female strippers. We only had two bars and one ‘club’ that could barely be called that. Sure, it was a good place for a family vacation if you wanted to escape to the lake, but for a wild bachelorette party? It just didn’t make sense.
“Excuse me,” a woman said from somewhere behind us. It wasn’t rude… her voice was almost lilting. Like an invitation.
Liam and I snapped out of the conversation with the woman in front of us and found that the line from outside had now formed at the register.
“Oh, crap,” Liam hissed as he sprang into act
ion. Grabbing a notebook and pen from behind the counter, he shoved them into my chest. “You book the consultation. I’ll handle the register and pastry purchases.”
“But—”
“Just do it,” Liam said, nearly hopping over the counter like he was in some 1950s diner.
I flicked the button of the pen and flipped the notebook open. “So, when would you like to schedule a consultation?”
She shrugged and grinned, biting at her bottom lip in a way that I’d seen a million times before in LA. “We’re in town for today only. Is there a way you could fit us in before we go home this evening?”
“Uhh…”
“I mean, if not, we’ll get a hotel and can do tomorrow.”
Was this woman crazy? She would get a hotel for us? For this one consultation?
“No, no, we can squeeze you in.” Squeeze her into what exactly? It wasn’t like our calendar was booked or anything. “How about around two o’clock today? We usually have a lull in customers after lunchtime.” Ha. A lull in customers? What customers? There were usually three to four people who came in on their lunch breaks for a treat, and usually only if Latte Da and Elsa’s were too busy.
“Perfect!” She gave me her name and cell phone number as well as her email, then scurried to the back of the line to buy some pastries.
I turned, examining the line that Liam was making his way through. He ran his hands through his light brown, reddish hair and gave me a desperate look that mirrored the way I was feeling, too. What the hell was happening?
I cleared my throat. “Did anyone else here want to schedule a consultation for an event? Wedding or bachelorette party—”
I didn’t even get the whole question out. About half of the thirty people in line shot their hands into the air. My mouth went agape, my jaw nearly slamming against the hardwood floors.
“Do you have any of the protein cupcakes today? The Beefcakes ones...”
I blinked, my gaze snapping to the third woman in line. I blinked a second time. And a third time, before I answered her. “My protein cupcakes? How do you even know about those?”
“I heard they’re healthy,” another woman said. “Only three grams net carbs, right?”
“Do you have any sugar-free options?” The blonde from earlier chimed in. “I’m diabetic and I never get to eat cupcakes.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut against the headache that blossomed between my eyes.
An older woman with graying hair stood behind a woman who I assumed was her daughter. The younger of the two sported a diamond ring bigger than my knuckle. The older woman leaned forward out of the line. “Son, I don’t want to sound like your mother or anything, but you two really need to update your sign out front. None of us could find Beefcakes based on the Maple Grove Cupcakery sign on the door. You’re lucky we’re here at all.”
“Hold on.” I crossed my hands in a ‘time out’ sort of gesture. “How did you all hear about us? About protein cupcakes? About Beefcakes?”
A few of the women exchanged smirking glances. A couple looked at me like I was a lunatic. A couple snickered. Finally, one of the women toward the front stepped out of the line. “On Facebook.”
“But we aren’t on Facebook.”
The older woman handed me her phone, her voice so raspy and low she sounded like Kathleen Turner after one too many cigarettes. “Oh, hun. You are now.”
There, on her phone, was a picture of me from the bachelorette party earlier that weekend. I was flexing, shirtless. My apron pulled down to my waist with six cupcakes balanced on my bicep. I was grinning like an idiot in the picture, laughing at something Liam had said off camera. In the background of the photo, behind me, was Lainey. And boy, was it not a flattering picture of her. Not that she wasn’t beautiful… she was. Beautiful in the same way a glacier is beautiful. Cold. Stunning. But not something you would want to touch or get too close to. She was glaring at me. Hard. Shooting daggers at me. And apparently, the image had started somewhat of a caption war where various people had put word balloons above our heads. For me, they were mostly flattering. For Lainey? Not so much.
Hot damn, women could be vicious.
I swallowed hard, tearing my gaze from the phone and finding my brother across the room.
“Who posted this?” I asked.
The older woman shrugged. “Honey, don’t ask me. I’m just an old mama whose sweet daughter hates strippers, but still wants something fun for her bachelorette party.” She put an arm around the younger girl beside her who smiled shyly at me.
The woman’s daughter took the phone gently and pointed to a name in the upper left corner. “It was originally posted by a woman named Tanja, but it went viral really quickly after that. I don’t think she had anything to do with the caption competition that began.”
Liam’s eyes popped wider and he smiled. “We went viral? Our business? Mom’s business…”
A disgusted look snaked across the older woman’s features. “Your mother owns Beefcakes and pimps out her own sons?”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “It’s not like that. This was – well, is – our mother’s business, but when she was diagnosed with breast cancer, my brother and I took over so that she could focus on resting and healing.”
A collective ‘aww’ rang out among the women in line, and by Liam’s and my reaction, you would have thought they had issued a gang threat. We both jumped back, surprised by the collective wistful sighs.
“How’s she feeling?” the older woman asked, concern turning her eyes softer than before.
I did my best to give her a flicker of a smile. “She’s okay.” I said.
She winced. “That bad, huh? Chemo is a bitch. I’ve been there. Had a double mastectomy three years ago.”
I swallowed against the tension knotted at the base of my throat. This is not what I wanted to discuss right now. I needed to find out how the hell that image became viral. I needed to find Lainey. I needed to regroup with Liam and come up with some damage control – fast.
The bells above the door chimed to alert us that someone was entering. A thing that up until today Liam and I had needed because the place was typically so empty. In those lulls between customers, we’d slip into the back to handle our invoices or pre-bake for tomorrow. But today? Today I wanted to smash that damn bell into a thousand tiny pieces.
The group of five women who entered teetered on top of heels the size of skyscrapers. They wore small spaghetti strap sundresses and they each had a satin sash across their chest stating their various wedding party roles: bride, maid of honor, matron of honor, bridesmaid, etc. I cringed, wishing I could kick everyone out.
No wait, if I was making wishes, then I would wish that I had driven more carefully during Saturday’s delivery and avoided this damn viral thing that was happening. I sure as hell wished I had Lainey’s number right about now. I needed to text her. Make sure she was okay. If she hated me before, she was going to flat out despise me after this. In theory, I shouldn’t care what she thought about me. But… I did. I cared about her. I never stopped caring about her for the past ten years. The very thought of her feeling embarrassed or hurt made my stomach twist painfully in a way that I didn’t want to dwell on too much. So much time had passed, but there was no reason to think she’d ever forgive me for the way I left her. I didn’t expect her to understand why I did what I did… why I left. But the fact remained, I would have been humiliated, and our relationship wouldn’t have survived, if I hadn’t.
She had been set to graduate with honors – as valedictorian, despite the fact that she was a party girl. She was so naturally smart that she could fuck around in high school, party with the best of us, sneak out at night, and still graduate at the top of our class.
I, on the other hand, failed math. The week before school ended, Ms. Hillory informed me I wasn’t going to graduate.
As I thought about what happened next, heat rushed my cheeks as shame and guilt coiled in my gut even tho
ugh I had done nothing wrong.
Ms. Hillory told me there was one way she would pass me with a D… ‘A D for some D,’ were her exact words. I wouldn’t do it. But I also couldn’t face Lainey and tell her I was too stupid to get my high school diploma. And I couldn’t stay back another year and be in the same graduating class as my little brother and sister. No way. So, I left town. I skipped out in the middle of the night and left for Boston where I studied my ass off and got my GED before beginning at Mass Art the following spring.
No one would understand why I left so suddenly, but I’d rather leave them confused than deal with their disappointment.
I swallowed, pushing the embarrassment from my mind.
Regardless of why I left, the last thing Lainey needed was a bunch of idiots online making fun of her. No, not idiots. Jealous women. They were jealous of her. They had to be. The way those comments and remarks were cutting her down? There was no reason to say those things otherwise.
“Hey, Beefcake,” the older woman said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “What’s your real name?”
I cleared my throat. “Uh, Neil. Neil Evans. And that’s my brother Liam.”
She nodded and smiled kindly at me. “I can see you’re processing a lot of what’s happening. Maybe start processing some of these consultations while you’re at it, too.” Her smile softened the tough words, and I returned her smile. She reminded me a lot of my mom. She leaned in closer to me, whispering, “This viral picture could be a good thing if you let it.”
Shit, she was right. We needed this business. We needed it badly. Even with health insurance, Mom’s chemo was insanely expensive. And we had to travel nearly two hours each way for every treatment since there wasn’t a good oncology center near here. I had already used most of my savings to keep the business afloat and pay off some of her debt. But it wasn’t enough. It bought us a few months before the bank would come knocking again. I glanced at Liam, who shrugged and gave me a resolved nod. Change of plans… get these consultations booked first. Then go talk to Lainey.
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