Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Cam
“He did not!” Drew exclaims as he sets his cocktail down on the bar.
It’s Thursday night, which means it’s happy hour on the rooftop deck of my apartment building.
Al, the owner, always throws one each week and sometimes other days for special occasions.
Everyone is here, and after a discussion of where my saltshaker might have gone, we’ve turned the conversation to McDowell’s.
“He did,” I grumble as Al sets down an extra-dirty martini with five blue-cheese-stuffed olives. He slides it toward me. I down it and start eating the olives.
“Whoa, slow down there. We can figure this out,” Bray says as he adjusts Ava on his lap.
“There is a belted kingfisher in the park!” Troy exclaims as he throws open the door and looks around wildly, a pair of binoculars in his hand.
Everyone stops talking and gives him a curious look.
Troy and his wife, Jessa, are the building’s official parents.
They also take care of all the plumbing, electric, construction, and administrative work for Al.
I guess I knew Troy liked birds. He does have an African gray parrot named Rocky.
And I do see him on occasion in the park watching birds.
But I’ve never seen him going crazy about a bird.
“I’m sorry, a what?” Carly asks as she leans on the counter next to Bray.
“Mom, he said a—” Ava starts but Carly holds up a hand.
“I heard him, little nugget. But I don’t know what that is,” she explains.
Ava turns to Troy. “Mr. Troy, is that a special bird or something?”
He nods enthusiastically and takes the camera hanging around his chest off, turning it around to show everyone the screen. Like the good found family we are, we all gather in a circle and “ooh” and “ahh” about a small bird.
“That makes over one hundred birds this year,” Jessa says as she squeezes her husband’s shoulder.
“It does. A great birding year,” he says proudly.
“Troy, how did I not know you were such a bird enthusiast?” Roxy asks as Gray pulls her back against him.
He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. A man has to have a hobby. I can’t be all wires and pipes all the time,” he says.
Drew chokes on his drink. “Yeah, definitely not all pipes all the time.”
I roll my eyes at my bestie.
“What’d I miss?” Troy asks as Al hands him his usual boring beer.
“Well, we’re figuring out how to derail the opening of the McDowell’s down the street,” Al explains.
Roxy turns to Kasen who is sitting at the bar with Hutch and Bray. “Can’t you, like, do some high-tech cyber thing and ruin the store?”
“No,” Kasen grunts.
“Oh, come on,” she urges and elbows Piper, Kasen’s girlfriend. “He can, right?”
Piper shrugs. “Beats me.”
“That would be illegal,” Kasen says as he raises an eyebrow in my direction. He’s the strong and silent type, but I’m pretty sure he could kill me with his bare hands if he was so inclined.
“Right,” I mumble.
“How about the winter festival? It’s coming up soon.
We could have a huge marketing campaign here in the neighborhood.
I mean, Al knows everyone, right, Al?” Margie suggests and Cornelia nods in agreement.
The grandmothers of our building have spoken.
And it’s not a terrible plan, but how is one strong showing at a booth at a festival going to change anything.
Everyone here already knows about the café. I need new customers.
“She’ll be there, but she needs to find new customers,” Drew speaks my exact thoughts. Drew is a graphic designer. He works for a small company that makes websites for companies. They made mine a few months ago.
I nod. “He’s right. I do.”
“My friend owns a marketing company. They mostly do clothing stuff, but I could ask them,” Hutch offers.
I pat his back. “Thanks. That might help.”
“Too bad it’s so hard to get into that City Bake-Off competition. I heard they are televising it this year,” Carly says as she makes an “x” on the tic-tac-toe board that Bray drew on a napkin. Ava claps and draws an “o.”
“I won,” she says with a big grin. “Can I go get the bubbles now?”
“Come on, squirt. Let’s go grab them,” Bray says as he sets her on the chair and turns. She gets on his back, piggyback-style, and they head downstairs.
The rooftop becomes quiet. Everyone seems to be trying to come up with an idea.
“You could try to see if you could get a sponsor for it. They pair smaller bakeries with big ones, right?” Gray asks. Roxy sits on his lap. They both look at me. Damn, I love these people. I feel so lucky to have them all on my team.
Al clears his throat and I look over at him. He looks…worried.
“What?” I ask.
“Cam,” Al starts and pauses as if he isn’t sure what to say and that’s not like him at all.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, setting my glass down as I step toward him.
“I have to tell you something,” he says and I can hear the hesitation in his voice.
I wait, not saying a word, partly out of curiosity and partly out of respect for a man who I’ve come to love as much as my own grandfather.
“I know Edward McDowell Senior,” he says, letting out a long breath and putting his hands up in a shrug.
It’s as if his exhale prevents me from inhaling.
I had to have heard that wrong. There’s no way Al knows the son of the founder of the company that is trying to take down my café.
Their website, which I may or may not have stalked, tells the history of John McDowell starting a bakery in the early nineteen hundreds.
His son, Edward, took the company national and then global.
Edward’s son, Edward Jr., then continued the expansion and now is training his three sons to run it.
Fletcher would be the youngest of the three.
“What?” I manage as my brain tries to reject what my ears have heard.
He gives another sheepish shrug and one corner of his mouth lifts a little. “Ed played poker with me years ago. I’ve known Fletch since he was a baby.”
I blink because how is this possible. Then I groan because of course Al knows them. Fucking hell. Al knows everyone. He’s like the mayor of the smallest town in one of the biggest cities.
“Al!” I groan, followed by a chorus of groans from everyone else.
He throws his hands up in the air. “Sorry. I…wasn’t sure how to tell you.” He pauses as I continue to wrap my head around Al knowing my rivals.
“I tried to talk some sense into him. I did. But Fletch is, well, he’s very stubborn,” Al concedes.
“No shit,” I mutter under my breath.
“But I’m on Team Cam. We’ll figure out a way. All of us will,” he says as he motions to our apartment building with his head.
“Maybe I can find a sponsor for that bake-off?” I muse and then launch into what I could bake if I can find a partner bakery to pair with.
“Hold up,” Gray says. “Explain this competition again.”
“So, every year the city has this giant competition. It’s being televised this year.
The premise is that you get paired with a more established bakery that sponsors you, sort of like a mentor situation.
Anyhow, the winner gets fifty thousand dollars to invest in their company and they get a free advertising plan from this big marketing firm and ten thousand to spend on some of the plan.
It’s a really big deal. Plus, you obviously get bragging rights.
All the bakeries that have won have gone on to be huge.
Bakeries from across the country come to compete.
Last year’s winner was this little food truck bakery and they were able to open two storefronts after their win,” I explain.
“So, let’s find you a sponsor,” Al states. I cannot believe this man knows the McDowells, but also, I am totally not surprised.
If anyone here knows a company owner that could sponsor me, it’ll be Al.
“Any company but McDowell’s,” I add.
Al’s face falls. “I was going to suggest them. Are you sure? They would be a great match. They’ve opened bakeries and café storefronts all across the world. They are a huge company now,” Al says.
I swallow. He’s right. They are. And if Fletcher McDowell hadn’t been the biggest jerk in the history of jerks, I’d consider that, but now, out of spite mostly and pride, I could never consider working with his family’s company. Could I?
No. Absolutely not. Hard pass.
“I…I think that would be a bad idea,” I say as I think of Fletcher.
He epitomizes everything I hate, from his pretentious-looking suit to his perfectly sculpted hair that looks unkempt yet model-like all in one.
Yeah, there’s no way. Even if I entertained that, I don’t see how we wouldn’t kill each other.
The look he gave me the other day tells me he loathes me just as much as I loathe him. It’s a mutual-enemy situation.
“You know what they say,” Hutch pipes up. Everyone turns to him. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”