Beefcakes

by Katana Collins

  At our feet, Olivia started crying, swiping her hands beneath her glasses to rub her eyes. “My cupcakes!” she cried.

  Ronnie sighed and bent to lift her, but the toddler kicked and flung her arms, her reaction blossoming into a full-on temper tantrum. “My cupcakes, my cupcakes!” she screamed over and over, waking up the babies in the stroller, who also started crying.

  “I’m sorry,” Ronnie said over the screaming. “She’s been really acting out lately.”

  Before I knew what was happening, Olivia had reached over and grabbed at the box of cupcakes. “No!” I cried.

  I wasn’t prepared for the toddler’s superhuman strength as she tore the top of the box open, and it went flying out of my hands. Twelve penis-topped cupcakes flew through the air and scattered across the pavement, and a couple landed on the hood of Ronnie’s car.

  I lifted my gaze to Ronnie, who was trying her best to swallow her laughter. “Any chance you can give me two hours?”

  Wow… it was a weird thing waking up after the sun. To sleep in until seven and then take my time showering and getting dressed, without needing to rush out the door, was heaven.

  I padded, freshly showered, from the bathroom to the kitchen, groaning as the camera crew was there waiting for me. Freaking weird… were they just sitting out here in my kitchen waiting for me to wake up?

  There were a bunch of new faces in the team, and I realized Elliott must have hired extra hands since Elaina and I weren’t together for this week’s challenge.

  I smiled, seeing a mug waiting for me on the counter, just like I usually left for Elaina. The note on top was scribbled in her handwriting and read:

  I didn’t have as much time as you have to prepare, but I made the coffee this morning. And here’s a mug for my beefcake.

  My grin was wide and goofy and said it all. I lifted the empty mug and saw that she had taken one of my old mugs that I’d gotten from my gym back in LA and stuck a Beefcakes logo sticker onto it. I laughed, admiring her creativity. Over the last two weeks, I’d been scouring yard sales and shop fronts every time I saw mugs for sale. If one looked like it was appropriate or cute for her, I bought it and hid it in the cabinet with all my baking supplies, knowing she’d never find them in there.

  Of course, this couldn’t last forever—soon enough, the mug cupboard would be full, and truly, how many mugs did two people need? If you had asked me a couple weeks ago? I would have said two. But I would own a room of mugs if it made Lainey smile every day.

  I crossed to the coffee, pouring myself a mugful and inhaling the dark Arabica scent. The clock read 7:05 a.m., and even though it was still early, for me this was late. I took my mug of coffee and headed out onto the back deck to enjoy the morning view of the lake.

  I groaned as my peaceful moment was destroyed by the crew following me out onto the deck. I rolled my eyes as I plopped into a deck chair. “Isn’t this a little boring, guys?”

  They didn’t answer me.

  Lainey and I had made it through the first three challenges with no problem at all. We nailed that first Cookie Monster challenge and the following week’s secret ingredient challenge. And the dating game challenge? Psh. Easy as pie.

  I didn’t think the viewers kept voting us on because of me, though. Lainey seemed to be capturing the hearts of America. She was the hard-working girl next door, and audiences seemed to love her even more than they loved the goth girl from Brooklyn or the hipster chick from Texas.

  And this week was the semi-final. If we made it through this challenge, we would go to the finals. Only one more episode after this, and then our time together would be over.

  Only if you want it to be, a small voice in my head said. I didn’t want it to be over. Not by a long shot. But I was pretty sure Lainey knew that. Our fate was entirely in her hands.

  An hour and change later, I was dressed in the only suit I had, sitting at Elaina’s desk.

  I tugged open the top drawer and smiled at how meticulously organized everything was. There were trays separating her pens, highlighters, and pencils. Post-it notes had their own little holder. The larger drawers were filled with perfectly labeled, color-coded files. I knew that she must have loved every second of organizing this office.

  There was a light knock at the door. “Mr. Evans?” I looked up to see a younger woman blinking at me from behind black-framed glasses.

  How did she know my name? “Yes?”

  “I’m Laura, Ms. Dyker’s assistant. I thought I could help get you up to speed on the budget meeting today?”

  “Oh, um… sure.”

  Oh, God… a budget meeting. I wasn’t bad with numbers, but it also wasn’t my forte like it was Lainey’s.

  Laura slipped into the office and took the seat on the other side of the desk. She slid a file folder over to me and started spouting off all kinds of facts and numbers and growth statistics—things like interest rates and discounts that general contractors were willing to give the city for the mill renovation project.

  I flipped through the stack of papers in the folder. “But this plan still hinges on the city having the cash for the purchase of the mill,” I said. “We don’t even have a third of it.”

  Laura nodded, biting her lip. “That’s true. Elaina has a couple more weeks to secure a loan for the rest or find a benefactor to donate the money.” I winced at that.

  We should know in two more weeks if we’ve won or not… but I wasn’t sure how long it would take for the show to pay us. And even then, how much of that would be removed for taxes on winnings that high? It should still be enough for the land purchase, especially if the town was also able to get a loan. But still… it was unnerving. She was cutting it close, which wasn’t something Lainey was typically known for.

  There was a hard knock on the open door, and both Laura and I jumped. She hopped to her feet, more nervous than a grasshopper in a snake nest.

  A man in a three-piece suit was standing in the doorway, his fist still raised mid-knock.

  “I’m sorry,” Laura said to me. “I should have shut the door before coming in here.”

  “It’s fine.” I gave her a small smile, then waved the man into my office. “How can I help you?” I asked.

  He glanced at the nameplate on the door, then at me, then back to the nameplate. “I was looking for Elaina Dyker.”

  “I’m, uh, filling in for her today,” I said as his eyes shifted to the various camera crew members and lights surrounding us.

  “I’m Hardin Montgomery.”

  “Of Montgomery Department Stores?” I glanced down at the budget proposal file in front of me, where Hardin Montgomery’s name was highlighted along with all his public assets. There were also newspaper clippings from other cities where he had done real estate developments, displaying protests and dissatisfaction related to his projects, as well as a list of several open lawsuits filed against him.

  The Montgomerys were New England royalty. Everyone had heard of them, and their department stores spread from Rhode Island to Maine.

  “That’s the one,” he said, holding his hands out. “I know Elaina has a budget meeting today and that they’re usually closed to the public—”

  “Yes, that’s right,” I said, even though I had no clue that they were usually closed to the public.

  He paused again, glancing around the room, his eyes landing on the microphone above us. “I should really talk to Elaina personally. Where did you say she was today?”

  “I didn’t.” I glared hard at him.

  “Right.” He wasn’t exactly smiling, but his face was smug in a way that made me want to punch the expression off his face. “You’re that guy who was Mr. Universe, right? The baker… Studmuffins?”

  “Beefcakes,” I said, my scowl hardening more. Damn. Studmuffins was also a great name for a bakery, though.

  “Right. Beefcakes.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at me like he was some villain in an 80s movie. “And you two are doing that TV show together.” Keeping hi
s lips pursed tightly, he ran his tongue across his teeth. “That show has a cash prize, right?”

  My jaw clenched so tightly I could have cracked a molar. “That’s what I’m told.”

  His gaze flicked from me to the camera briefly. “So, if you’re here with all these cameras… I’m guessing, she’s probably at your bakery.”

  When I said nothing, his grin widened. One way or another, he was intent on talking to her. I didn’t like this guy one bit, but dealing with people like him was part of her job.

  He backed out of the doorway, giving me one last slimy smile, and closed the door behind him.

  Two hours later, the budget meeting went well enough. I wasn’t as prepared as Elaina would have been, of course. But all in all, I think I handled myself pretty well. Luckily, no one asked about the money for the land sale—I wasn’t sure if maybe they already knew her plans. Certainly, everyone in that room knew that Elaina and I were on this TV show together, and they knew a large cash prize was on the line. Did they know what she planned on using it for?

  It was only ten-thirty and I was already exhausted. How Elaina managed to do this job every day was beyond me.

  A young man came in with a stack of mail in his hands, dropping it onto the edge of Elaina’s desk and blowing a bubble with his chewing gum.

  Classy.

  I sighed and grabbed the mail. I paused, looking at the camera, cringing. “Am I allowed to open her mail when I’m acting as town manager?” I asked.

  From behind the camera, Chip shrugged, and the boom operator gave me a look that said he didn’t know either. “Laura!” I called out and she popped her head in.

  “Am I allowed to open Elaina’s mail?”

  She bit her bottom lip, her brows lowering into a frown. “I’m not sure. Tampering with mail is a federal offense.” Yeah, and it will be on national television. “Maybe only open the mail that’s addressed to the town of Maple Grove and Town Manager as a general title. None with her name on it?” she offered.

  That sounded pretty good to me. I shifted some of the letters to the side, putting them in her inbox tray on the left side of her desk. There were only a few pieces not addressed to Elaina specifically. One was junk mail. A flyer for some sort of sale at an office supply store. Another was a request, clearly from a kid, to add another swing set to the playground. I smiled and set it aside in her inbox, certain Elaina would take care of that. The third looked more official, and I turned the letter over in my hand a few times. It was simply addressed to Maple Grove Municipal Office with a return address to the National Institute of Health.

  I grabbed the letter opener from the cup on Elaina’s desk and carefully sliced through the top of the envelope. As I removed and unfolded the pages inside, I still felt like I might be doing something wrong.

  Dear Elaina Dyker,

  Thank you for your interest in the medical research grant at the National Institute of Health. We are pleased to offer you the full grant to be used within your Maple Grove Healthcare Outreach Center once it is built.

  To claim this money, you must provide the development plans, permits, and the projected opening date for the center. We will open these funds ninety days prior to this launch date. If for any reason, the project is terminated, please contact our offices so we can reallocate these funds to other facilities in need.

  Thank you,

  Donald Richards

  President, National Institute of Health

  I stood up so fast that the backs of my knees smacked into the chair, sending it flying backwards into the wall.

  “Oh my God,” I cried out, rereading the letter closer. “She did it.”

  Laura came running in. “Are you okay?”

  I laughed and raked my hands through my hair. “Laura, read this!” I shoved the grant letter in her face. As she scanned the page, her jaw dropped, and her eyes started to well up.

  “That is incredible,” she said and swiped a tear from beneath her eye. “Elaina’s been writing ten letters a day for various grant opportunities. This might be just the tip of the iceberg.”

  “This might only be some of the grant money she won?” I blinked, stunned at the incredibly large number in the letter before me.

  Laura nodded. “She’s a force.”

  I smiled. “That she is.” Laughing, I lunged for my cell phone. “I have to call her!”

  A throat cleared from behind me, and I looked up to see Elliot shaking his head at me. “Seriously?” I asked. “We’ll be disqualified if I call to tell her good news?”

  He shrugged. “Those are the rules.”

  “Goddammit.”

  Laura bit her lip. “There aren’t any rules against me calling her, are there?”

  We both looked at Elliott as he paused to think. “You haven’t signed a contract with us, so no. But if the judges rule differently than me, you could still run the risk of disqualification.”

  I sighed and shook my head at Laura. “It’s not worth it,” I said. “I’ll plan a nice dinner tonight and show her the letter personally. It’ll mean more if she gets to read it herself and experience the win that way.”

  Laura nodded as her phone out front rang. She jumped and scurried out of the office to answer it. “Elaina Dyker’s office,” she said in a chirping voice. “One moment, please.”

  Laura poked her head back into the office. “It’s Robert Hughes. He’s the hospital administrator of the oncology department at Boston General.”

  My brows rose. I knew Robert… or at least, I knew of Robert because of my mother and Abby. “Put him through...”

  After another moment, the phone on the desk rang, and I lifted the receiver to my ear. “This is Neil Evans, acting town manager for Maple Grove.”

  It was quiet for a moment on the other line. “Um, I was calling for Elaina Dyker,” Mr. Hughes said hesitantly.

  “Hi, Mr. Hughes,” I said. “Elaina’s out of the office today, but I’m happy to help if I can.”

  He sighed heavily on the other line. “This isn’t a call I’m happy to make. We have to pull our oncology center out of the Maple Grove healthcare outreach center, I’m afraid.”

  I must have heard him wrong. My ears rang and I blinked hard, forcing myself to focus. “I’m sorry… what?”

  “Look, it’s an amazing idea Ms. Dyker has, but we are a teaching facility. And without some sort of incentive to bring our highly sought-after doctors and residents an hour and a half away, I just can’t commit them to that. There’s not enough offered for us there, even with the use of the conference center.”

  I glanced at the grant letter in my hand. “Mr. Hughes,” I said carefully. I wasn’t sure what Elaina’s plans would be for this money, but I knew her plan for the outreach clinic hinged upon hospital participation. Losing the oncology department was not an option—maybe I had my own selfish reasons for believing that, but it was a huge part of the plan. “What if I told you we had just been offered a very large research grant from the National Institute of Health?”

  He was silent a moment on the other line. “How large?”

  I licked my lips, glancing down at the figure listed in the letter. I had no idea how Elaina planned to divvy this up between the departments and I didn’t want to step on any toes. Even if this grant was dispersed equally between departments, they would each have a substantial sum. “It’s significant,” I offered. “Though I can’t say how much you would get without consulting with Ms. Dyker first. Let me ask you this… what amount would you need from the research grant to come back on board?”

  I heard his sharp inhale. “It would need to be significant. Six-figures significant.”

  I glanced again at the number in the letter. “Again, I’ll need to verify this with Ms. Dyker, but… I believe we can swing that. It’s a grant, so I can’t promise you would receive this amount yearly, but you would have it to start. Then it’d be up to you to keep the grant money coming by proving the success of your clinical research each year.”

  “
Wow… that’s incredible,” he said. “I’ll take this to the board and see if that changes their decision. But I think I can say with quite a bit of certainty that the vote will be a resounding yes. Our hospital is barely able to get that kind of research grant funding. It’s quite impressive if Elaina has actually managed to get it for a clinic that doesn’t even exist yet.”

  I smiled, looking down at the letter. “Well, Elaina Dyker is quite an impressive woman,” I said, running my thumb across her name at the top where her name was typed. “She’ll be back in the office tomorrow if you need to reach her.” I paused, figuring there might be a little something extra I could do to help. “How many people are on the board? I’ll send down some cupcakes tomorrow morning for everyone.”

  “Cupcakes?” He sounded caught off guard… which made sense. How often did someone from a city council office bring up cupcakes?

  “That’s right,” I said. “They’re kind of my thing.”

  “Well, we’ve got ten of us on the board, but you might as well make it a baker’s dozen. I’m sure some of the nurses will enjoy a couple in the breakroom.”

  My grin split wider. Now, this I could do. “Let’s make it two dozen, just to be safe.”

  We said our goodbyes, and after hanging up, I sat back, smiling, my heart swelling with pride and joy for Elaina. I chuckled, and whispered to myself, “There’s no problem so large that a cupcake can’t fix.”

  I glanced up to find Laura leaning in the doorway, beaming. “I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation...you handled that well. Saved us all a lot of panic and grief.”

  I shook my head, grazing my fingers down the grant acceptance letter. “All I did was tap into all the hard work Elaina had already put into this.” My day today was exhausting, but not too difficult, and it was all thanks to the meticulous planning and skill she put into her career every day.

  I glanced at the clock. Two-thirty. I needed to stay until at least five according to the rules of the show. I lifted the phone and called my mom. She answered on the third ring and after an initial greeting, she cried, “Neil!”