Page 20 of Café Diablo

“That doesn’t mean we won’t look at them if you do feel so inspired.”

I smile at Simon, softly. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

Each of the pastries are dazzling and my mind is already reeling with the colors I’d mix and how I’d abstract the lime slices into shapes. Maybe I’ll have Arie make a couple of these for me to take home and paint. Maybe delicious food will get me out of my painting funk. It’s worth a try. If all else fails, and my muse decides to once again bail, at least I’ll get dessert out of it.

“Thanks, Olivia,” Simon says, handing me a tray that I’ll strap to the back of my scooter to hold the box for the delivery. Flambédoesn’t get many special orders, but I’m happy to deliver them when everyone else is busy.

Once I’m down by my Vespa, I pull out the ratchet straps and bungee cords from my storage compartment and rig the tray and box onto the back of the bike. I make sure everything is secure before I check the ticket and see what neighborhood I’m headed toward. It’s near the west boardwalks, which is an easy ride.

The afternoon sun is warm and lazy as I meander through the crowded streets on my way to my destination, putt-putting my moped through the fancier part of town. Palm trees and hibiscus flowers sway and the wrap-around sundress I’m wearing flaps against my legs, soft and elegant. My hair wisps in the breeze as I enjoy the perfectly slow afternoon, filled with the scent of the ocean and jasmine blossoms. Normally, I’d drive faster, but having those beautiful tarts to deliver has me lollygagging.

When I turn the corner and head down the final street, I get a strange feeling about the buildings. Have I been here before? I pull up to the address—a stylish business complex—and something about the shape of the building shoots heat up my neck.

Wait a minute—?

I park quickly and turn around to look at the address again. Then, I pull out my phone and check an old text message from Conner, holding both up for comparison. Just as I suspected—they match! The ticket and the text message are the same. I didn’t recognize the building at first because it was dark the night of the party, but this is the exact address to Voss Associates!

I put the ticket back on the box and pull up a group text message between me, my boss,andher manipulative boyfriend.

Olivia:Arie. Who exactly are these tarts for?

I take a picture of the building and add it to the message, then sit back on the seat of my moped to wait. I have until three in the afternoon to deliver these. I’m not walking into Voss Associateswithout knowing exactly what game is being played.

Neither Arie nor Connor answer, but I’m not deterred. I pull one of the cherry garnishes off of the espresso tart and smash the fruit on the ground like a bad Jackson Pollock painting. I shoot a photo of it and add it to the text message thread.

Olivia:I’m going to start dropping these tarts on the hot, disgusting asphalt if someone doesn’t start explaining what I’m about to walk into!

No response.

Olivia:Connor? Arie? Hello?

I sacrifice a second cherry and send a photo.

Olivia:These tarts are gorgeous, but I’m not above destroying them. Connor? Whatare you up to?

Arie:If you smash my tarts on the pavement I will cut you.

Olivia:Oh, I see. I got someone’s attention. Connor? Explain yourself. Or are you going to make me destroy your girlfriend’s artistry?

Arie:He’s just laughing.

Olivia:I’m going to ask one more time, nicely…Did anyone at Voss Associates actuallyorder these tarts?

Connor:Not directly.

Arie:But they’re beautiful and you have to bring them up to the office and make everyone’s day a bit more … tasty.

Olivia:So, I am showing up unannounced with pastries?

Connor:Ned loves tarts.

Olivia:I’m sure he doesn’t.

Connor:He will after you’re done with him.

Olivia:Excuse me?

Connor:If you have to handcuff him while you feed him, I’m sure he’ll understand.

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