Page 112 of Guava Flavored Lies

CHAPTER43

“No.”Sylvie pressed her phone to one ear while she jammed her finger in the other in an effort to hear over the loud salsa music emanating from the newest Pastry King. “No, that is not what we agreed on. Don’t you have a system or notes or something you can look at?”

The woman from the fire department continued to repeat the same nonsense while Sylvie paced the packed sidewalk. All the tables and tents were blocking the walkway and waiting to be assembled. They were half an hour away from Lauren’s 8 a.m. opening and she did not have time for this.

“Ma’am, if I have the date wrong, then why is the police department here? And why would I have an approved permit for a four hour block this morning?” Her throat ached from repeating herself while resisting the desire to scream. “If you would give me your direct email address, I would be happy to send you proof of—”

She listened while checking on the happenings inside the bakery. Lauren, her parents, and some other relatives were busy putting the finishing touches on the bakery. Everything looked absolutely perfect. Now all Sylvie needed was to take over the street where they had tons of food to give away, live music, and a bus from a local Spanish radio station broadcasting to people from all over the county.

“No!” Sylvie shrieked. “I can’t get downtown to show you in person! I’m in the middle of a grand opening!”

She stormed up to one of two police officers she was paying by the hour to close off the street. She didn’t know why she needed both the fire and police departments, but she’d made sure everything was in order several days ago. Of course, the person she’d been dealing with at the fire department went on unexpected maternity leave right before the big day. Rude. Her replacement had no idea what she was doing and covered it up by treating Sylvie like she was an idiot.

“Listen, I’m going to put you on the phone with Officer. . . Rodriquez.” She squinted against the hot sun beaming straight into her sleep-starved eyes. They’d been up all night preparing everything for the ovens that morning. Three of Sylvie’s King of Pastries locations had opened before their usual 3 a.m. start to get everything ready in time. She couldn’t let Lauren down after promising that bringing thousands of people to the opening wouldn’t be more than they could handle.

When the police officer looked at Sylvie’s phone like he didn’t know what it was or what she wanted him to do with it, she sighed. “Would you please talk to the woman from the fire department and tell her everything is in order and that’s why you’re here today and not a week from today?” Sylvie softened. “Please?”

He took the phone and sauntered away from his squad car. Hopefully in a few minutes that car would be lined up with the other patrol car and blocking the one-way Calle Ocho. Getting the permit approved on short notice had cost an enormous amount of favors. Sunday morning had been the only day they could get, and that meant everyone was getting paid double, but Sylvie didn’t care. Not if she could help Lauren’s big day be a success.

Sylvie wiped the sweat from her brow. It was too early to be so hot. Freaking August in Miami. Who the hell does anything outside? In black denim shorts and a red and white Pastry King t-shirt she’d cut to make off the shoulder, she wished she was in a bikini.

Tapping her foot on the steamy asphalt, she watched the uniformed cop shake his head.

Damn it. Come on!

After what felt like an eternity, but was closer to ninety seconds, the cop returned. Sylvie’s phone at his side, indicating the woman from the fire department was no longer on the phone.

Sylvie’s chest caved. It had taken forever on hold just to get a human being on the line. If she had to call again, the event would be over before she got her back.

That was probably her plan, maybe they were working against her together, she thought as she eyed the officer with piercing suspicion.

“You’re not great at making friends, huh?” The officer chuckled as he handed back her phone.

Sylvie was about to lay into him for presuming to know anything about her, when he grinned.

“Tell your people they can start setting up. Fire is on its way, but we’ll hold traffic back until they arrive with the barricades.

Sylvie had to resist the urge to lunge forward and tackle the cop in a hug. “Thank you!” she shouted, already bolting from the street to her vendors milling around drinking coffee. “Okay! We got the go-ahead!” she called to the guys waiting by the massive white tents that would cover the two-lane street running along several storefronts on their block. Sylvie had personally invited all their commercial neighbors to the event, hoping that blocking their street for the morning wouldn’t set a bad tone.

Luckily, the shoe store, eyeglass place, and dog groomer were all closed on Sunday. The cigar store wouldn’t open until noon, but Sylvie had the genius idea of inviting them, and their established clientele, to their own smoking tent. Lauren had spent days coming up with a menu of savory treats especially for them. It was meant to pair with a couple of cigars they were featuring, although Sylvie didn’t really understand how. They’d been so excited about the special invite and accommodation, that they’d brought their eighty-year-old previous owner out of retirement to hand roll cigars in front of the crowd.

It was going to be perfect, absolutely perfect. Then she saw her brother striding down the sidewalk toward the bakery.

Oh, God. No. Why?

In his Vote Carla Machado for Councilwoman t-shirt, he was dressed for trouble. Getting her parents to agree to come had been difficult enough. She didn’t need him antagonizing anybody.

“Junior!” Sylvie yelled as she rushed toward him. “What are you wearing?” she asked, despite knowing exactly what he was wearing.

He grinned, stopping just short of the bakery door that Sylvie was blocking with her body.

“What?” He looked down as if he didn’t know what he’d thrown on that morning.

“How did you even get that? Never mind! Take it off!”

“Why?” He couldn’t stop laughing long enough to sell his innocent act. “You’re wearing a Pastry King shirt. What’s the difference?”

Sylvie crossed her arms to keep from strangling him in public. Getting arrested wasn’t on the agenda today. “Mami is going to flip out that you’re wearing that. Do you know how hard it was to get them to—”

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