Page 6 of Cream and Punishment
“I knowww,” I moaned, moving to the next bowl on the industrial dishwasher’s counter. Even if I deserved his revenge, I didn’t have to look forward to it.
“No, not for whatever happened between you two last year. For moving without telling me.Again.”
I set the mixing bowl I was rinsing down with a clang. “That’s not fair. You were undercover when I moved here. There was no way I could’ve told you.”
She grunted noncommittally. “Still. I think it’s fate.”
“Har, har. Are you going to help me or not?” I glanced at the clock on the wall. I’d been here over eight hours now, and I could feel each one in my back. “You probably want to spend the rest of your lunch break with your fiancé, am I right?”
Lucky duck. Like Max, her fiancé Colt was on the same squad as her. What started as a bitter rivalry had blossomed into the kind of love I could only wish for.
“And you’re off soon, anyway,” she added. “What are you going to do for the rest of the day?”
“Unpack and check for roaches, probably.”
“I think we all know how your ‘unpacking’ usually goes.”
And here Max thought Lex didn’t make any jokes. If only.
“You’re hilarious,” I deadpanned. Sure, I still had some boxes at her apartment. Boxes that had never gotten unpacked since moving here from Pittsburgh a year ago. But this apartment was mine and mine alone. This time would be different.
She cleared her throat in a poor attempt to sober up. “Please tell me you’re joking about the roaches. Because if you’re not, I’m getting you a hazmat suit for your birthday.”
Nowtherewas a plan. Wearing one of those all the time would rule out a good chunk of revenge plans, right?
“You know,” she continued, her voice a littletoocasual, “if you opened your own bakery, you could probably afford a better place.”
Ihada better place with the best roommate ever, until said roommate decided to up and get engaged.
The audacity.
“I know,” I sighed. “I’m working on it.”
“Are you?”
Though Lex’s words held no malice, they still stung. Technically, I’d made enough from the sale of my bakery back in Pennsylvania to be able to open a new one here with the help of a small business loan. But, I hadn’t found the right place for it yet, hadn’t gotten the licenses I’d need or figured out all the payroll, hiring, and employee benefits.
I’d always hated that aspect of owning a business. I could bake circles around nearly anyone, develop a menu, even work with customers for events. I could deal with Bridezillas and finicky suppliers. But the actual business side of things? The budgeting, scheduling, and paperwork hoopla? I hated it with a passion. And maybe that’s part of why I’d failed my bakery back home.
“Yes,” I huffed. “I am. You know there aren’t a lot of prime locations available, and I’m still saving up. Detroit isn’t cheap.”
She snorted. “Compared to Pittsburgh? It could be a lot worse, and you know it.”
Yeah, I did. But still. “Well, I haven’t found a good enough place yet.”
On days where I felt particularly lonely or frustrated with my lot at My Batter Half, I’d scroll through the real estate sites looking for listings. None of them felt right. I wanted something close to where I lived, with decent foot traffic and enough parking not to be a nuisance, a safe enough neighborhood that wasn’t too far from all the major highways. Honestly, nothing fit those requirements aside from the bakery where I currently worked.
Gale could easily rise above all the bakeries in town with a few updates, good marketing, and innovative recipes and ideas. She’d even beat out Priscilla’s Cakes and Pastries, the hoity toity bakery I’d interviewed at whenthe incidentwith Max happened.
But let’s forget about that.
When I’d tried to pitch ideas to Gale, I spent five whole minutes trying to get her to hear me. And once she could, she shot down every single one. Apparently, she was happy with the way she’d been running things for the past forty years and wasn’t about to change anything now.
And what did I know about running a bakery? According to Richard Besserman, nothing.
“Will any place be good enough, though?” Lex asked, breaking me out of the slew of unpleasant memories bombarding my brain. “Don’t get me wrong, you know I love being your guinea pig. But your baking should be shared with the world.”
The pit in my stomach burrowed deeper. Yeah, my treats were pretty good. If that were all that went into owning a business, I’d be set. And I probably wouldn’t be in Detroit in the first place. But whatever.
