Page 9 of Bishop

The line fritzed for a second and I realized Angel must be in the car. Realizing what that meant, I blurted, “You passed your driving test! Congratulations!”

Angel giggled joyfully. “I did and I’m loving my newfound freedom. Are you available to meet right now? It might be easier if we talk about the details of the party in person. I can even stop at the bank and bring some cash with me as a retainer.”

I nearly cried at her generous offer. “Absolutely! I’m in. Where do you want to meet?

* * *

Angel was already seated at a corner table when I walked into the large coffee chain we’d agreed to meet up at. The petite woman waved from her corner table as soon as she spotted me by the front door.

Walking over to her, I slung my purse over the back of my chair and took a seat. “I’m so glad you called,” I told her, my cheeks flushed pink with gratitude. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the business.”

Angel slid a steaming cup of coffee in my direction. “Hey, small businesses got to help each other out. Right?”

I nodded. “We really do. Word of mouth is everything. I’m so grateful you’re willing to give me a chance.”

“I knew you said you like everything, so I took a chance and got you French Vanilla. It’s my favorite,” Angel confided.

Truly grateful for her thoughtfulness, I took a hearty sip. “It’s delicious, thanks!”

Angel grinned back. “So let me tell you about this catering job. It’s a welcome home party for my husband’s Club Brother, Bishop.”

“Is he in the army or something?” I asked, taking another delicious sip of my aromatic beverage.

“Prison, actually. He’s a part of the same MC that Reaper is in. The Devil’s Riders. Have you heard of them?” she asked nonchalantly.

I hadn’t. It didn’t matter though. I needed the money and Angel was offering it. She could have been putting on a party for the Devil himself and I would have gladly accepted. I wondered then if he was over at Cantiville but decided it was none of my business and chose not to ask.

“I’ve never heard of the Devil’s Riders, but I’d be happy to cook for them,” I returned in earnest.

“Awesome! Do you think you’d be able to make a cake, too? I know desserts aren’t really your thing, but you’re an amazing cook. I’m sure your baking skills are just as good! Plus, I’d be able to help with any of the labor.”

If she was paying, I was baking. It wouldn’t be my first foray into confections. Far from it. I’d done several types for the baby shower whose check hadn’t cleared and every single item had been a hit. My client had even lamented over not purchasing more. At the time, I wished she had. Now I'm glad she chose against it. Any more would have bankrupted me for sure.

“Just tell me what the cake should say, and what flavor you're looking for, and I’ll make it happen.”

Angel clapped her hands together in excitement. “Wonderful! I brought a notebook with some ideas written inside. Bishop’s sister, Amelia, couldn’t make it to the meeting, but she’s given me all of her suggestions for the party.”

I took the first stress-free breath since I’d talked with my landlord today and relaxed into my chair. “Sounds great. Let’s get started!”

Chapter 5

Cantiville Prison

Evie

The second time I drove through the gates of Cantiville prison, I felt far less nervous than the first. I also had a mission. With today’s menu, I was going to practice making the strawberry cake I was going to bake for Angel.

I was told that it was the favorite of the man whom the party was being thrown for. Making it for the inmates today would kill two birds with one stone. I’d be able to practice the dessert without cost to me, and the men would be able to eat a delicious cake! In my book, that was the best of both worlds. And who knew, if this went well, I might even consider signing up for another few weeks of lessons alongside Bobby.

Walking into the prison, I stopped at the front desk and Becker checked me in. Knowing the process already, it was quick and relatively painless.

“What are you making today, Teach?” Garrity, the guard I was fairly certain was sweet on Bobby, asked with a toothy grin.

Picking up my purse, I slung it over my shoulder. “A fresh strawberry and cream cake with a sweet vanilla frosting and a layer of berry compote.”

The guard’s eyes widened with anticipation. “Is this another one of Bobby’s recipes?”

I hadn’t had a chance to talk to my mentor about the prison guard yet, but I made a mental note to do that when I got home today. “Nope. This one is a new recipe I’m looking to trial.”

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