Chapter 3 #2
“It’s a fruit from south China. It looks kind of like a kiwi on the outside. It’s used as a zero-calorie sweetener. I use it instead of sugar in a lot of things. It’s a lot sweeter, I prefer it.”
“This is to die for!” he whines, taking another sip, and he writes “iced coffee” in his notebook. “Now we need to think about what you want and what you can handle, okay? How crazy do we want to go?”
“I have no idea what we’re doing, so I’m not sure.”
“No worries. Let’s start here. Mark is going to help me with a website for you, so we need to do that first. No one calls for orders anymore, almost everything is online unfortunately, so we need a place for orders to be placed.
Then people can come in and pick up their treats.
That’s the first thing.” He puts his pen down. “Let me see your phone.”
“I . . . um.”
“I won’t search through the porn you watch, I just want to download some social media apps. We need to get your name out there.”
“I don’t watch porn!” His brows rise as he looks at me from behind his glasses. “Fine, here.” I hand him my phone.
“Okay, so I set up two accounts last night. One on ReelDreams . . . that one’s for videos we’ll do. Then one on BlueVibe . . . that one is for posts.”
“Videos?”
“You know, of you making your desserts. It’ll be great content. Then you can post your desserts, and depending how close you carry your recipes to your chest, you can give out the recipes for a couple.”
“Won’t that make it so people can just make them at home?”
“Nine times out of ten people won’t do it.
It’s just nice to share. You’ll still get business, and you don’t have to share them all.
Maybe just a recipe here and there. Besides, they won’t taste like yours.
” He writes something on a sticky note after he logs me into the apps.
“These are your passwords and logins. If you want, I can manage the responses from my phone since you don’t have the time, but if you want privacy. I’ll leave it to you.”
“You can help me.” I know I won’t be able to keep track of all this. I don’t use any personal social media. My mother was against it when I was growing up, and I just never felt like I needed to use it.
“Great, this way I can delete and block nasty comments.”
“Nasty comments?” Why would I get nasty comments on a baking video?
“Oh, you will get them. Do not take them personally. Some people have nothing better to do than leave mean comments on a stranger’s video. Don’t worry about that, and if you happen to see one, don’t give any weight to it. You’re incredible.”
I watch him make more notes, and Mark’s words from the other night come back to me. I . . . I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t expect him to take this seriously. He doesn’t seem to take anything seriously.
“Okay, next.” He flips a page and there’s a list written in the same pink ink as the pen he’s using.
“Now, I wrote a list of suggestions for all the events we could hold. Obviously money is a factor, so I put them in order from the least expensive to throw to eh, you might want to save up some funds for it. Just keep in mind, these will bring in customers. I also highlighted the ones that you could charge people to come to. You give them samples and it could open the door to more customers.”
I read through the long list he has. It’s overwhelming. While I appreciate all this, it’s clear I haven’t been doing enough. Sitting in my bakery making desserts isn’t enough, but that’s all I want to do. I don’t want to plan or set any of this up. It’s too much.
My head hurts.
Trivia nights, book clubs. “Knitting club?”
“That was our beautiful Bri’s idea. You wouldn’t have to charge, just have a set time they can come.
If you want to make samples, have coffee .
. . that’s up to you. I’m telling you now .
. .” He shakes the almost empty glass he has.
“They will come just for this alone. People need third spaces, and they’re hard to find nowadays.
Corporations want you in and out. It’s cold and unfeeling. But people want to feel welcome.”
“Third spaces?”
“You know. You have your home, your job, and then a hangout spot. A place you go to socialize. This could be a third place for a lot of people. It’s in a great spot. You’re close to a lot of jobs and other shops.”
I nod, looking through the list. “What is Valentine’s night?” Noah beams, taking the notebook back from me and flipping a page. “Oh wow.”
“My talented tattooed hottie drew this mockup.” I look at the illustration. The entire bakery is decorated in pinks, whites, and reds. It’s a nice drawing, though maybe a little extravagant.
“It looks like Valentine’s Day threw up in my bakery.”
He laughs. “I had an idea, and it will cost a bit of money; however, I think it would be really profitable for you. Now, you’re going to have to hear me out.”
“I’m scared.”
“Well, I’ll tell you the same thing I told Jamie last night .
. . I know it seems scary, but it’ll be okay.
Just relax and let the magic happen.” Oh my god.
He opens to another page with notes. “I’m thinking we should hold a singles’ night next month.
For Pride month.” I open my mouth to speak but he continues.
“It’ll be perfect. Just think about it. We decorate the bakery, you make themed desserts for the night, everyone pays an admission fee.
Not to put you in a hard spot, but maybe they could get like one free dessert, right?
Or samples. I think that would be best. Then we can play games.
Do a little speed-dating thing. It’ll be so fun.
It’s hard to meet people nowadays. Maybe not exclusively queer, but maybe a queer-safe singles’ night.
Bring people together. People can meet new friends.
And best of all . . .” He flips the page.
“Noah, what the hell?” Jamie is standing in an apron, shirtless and looking the most unimpressed a person can look.
“Shirtless servers.” He grins, taking the picture giving it a kiss and tucking it into his shirt. “Huh? Huh? Am I a fucking genius or what?”
“Noah, this is. I don’t—”
“Just think about it. Bri is on board. She’s going to make us aprons with cute little designs and your shop logo.”
Really? No, that’s . . . I can’t ask her to do that. “That’s too much.”
“No, it’s fine. Any chance to free the nipple and she’s on board.
Hunter and unfortunately Mark are into it.
Cam is enthusiastically excited about it too.
Bo said he’ll help but he’s wearing a shirt—he gets cold real fast and we can’t have him wheezing during the event.
Of course I’m on board, and Jamie, well .
. . he agreed.” He flips the page. “It’ll be twenty-ones and over, queer friendly, and it’s Pride month.
Come on. It’ll be amazing, I promise you.
This will get people in the doors. I wouldn’t have put so much thought into it if I didn’t think it would work. ”
“And it’s not because you’ll get to have us all shirtless in one spot.”
“Babe, that’s a Friday night for me.” He writes something down.
“I wasn’t going to let Mark be a server, but Puck Daddy wouldn’t agree unless I let him.
His biceps alone are worth looking at Mark’s pasty chest.” He sets his pink pen down.
“Also, I think we need to talk about your hours of operation.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, come on. Your store is called Moonlight Confections. It’s sexy. Ten out of ten. It’s just, you’re open from ten till four on weekdays, then ten till two on Saturday.” He exaggerates a wide yawn.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Tons. A lot of people work during those hours, and the last thing they’re going to want to do is come here on the weekend in the morning.
Moonlight Confections is daring and mysterious.
She’s not a ten-till-four kind of girl. She’s a possible one till nine.
Maybe a flirty little five till eleven. She’s dark and dangerous. ”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Noah blinks his green eyes at me. “Your hours are boring!”
“They’re just hours.”
“Yeah, and they’re boring, hotness. I did a little bit of thinking, because I don’t want to burn you out. So here . . .” I look at the mockup. “You’re not going to like this, but I think you need to hire someone part time.”
“Noah, I can’t.”
“Hear me out. Just to work a couple of hours during the week and then on the weekend. You need two days off, okay? You’re burning yourself out. Don’t worry, I did the numbers for you.”
“The numbers? When? I didn’t give you my financial information!”
Noah blinks his green eyes behind his glasses.
“Honey, I am that good.” He flips another page.
“I found a way to cut some costs. First thing is the Pride Valentine’s event.
That’ll be next month, and I promise you, it will be packed.
I’ll advertise, I’ll put up flyers, I will not shut the fuck up about it.
Leave that all to me.” He writes something down.
“If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s using my mouth. ” Someone help me.
“This is a lot of work you’ve done.” I look up at him. “Um, thank you.”
Noah smiles kindly. “You’ve never seemed like the type of guy who likes to ask for help. That’s fine, but you have friends who do want to help you. And . . .” He sets his ridiculous pen down. “You’re doing all this while mourning. It’s a lot. I know it is. We all want to help you, okay?”
My throat tightens. Tears don’t come, but my eyes heat. I blink rapidly. “Thank you.”