2. 2
M y glitter shorts wedge themselves so far up my ass as I squeeze past people on my way to my seat, I’m afraid I’ll have a sparkly asshole for the rest of my life. Before I can make it, the crowd jumps to their feet, screaming their love as the football sails over the goal line and into Tank’s waiting hands in the end zone. The guy claiming the chair I’m standing in front of lurches to his feet, causing my balance to become precarious. Without thought, I wrap my arms around the shirtless man, his painted chest pressed against my cheek.
“Woah there, honey, what do you think you’re doing?” he asks, grabbing my arms and unhooking them from around himself.
“Sorry!” I shout, trying to be heard over the crowd. “I thought I was going to fall! ”
“Well that doesn’t mean you get to grab onto The Clint, now does it?” He looks down at me with such self-importance, I almost laugh. Instead, I simply apologize again, pull myself from his grip, and continue on to my seat.
“I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Lorelei says into my ear as I kiss her cheek in greeting. Unlike the other players’ wives, she enjoys being in the throng of the crowd.
“Sorry I’m late. My friend at the bank called. Apparently, I’m going to be rejected for the loan to expand. Again. What have I missed?”
As I settle into the space in front of my seat, prepared to stand for the duration as no one seems to be sitting after the last touchdown, I try to discreetly dislodge the shorts from my ass crack.
“Oh, I’m sorry, babe. That sucks. Do you want me to talk to someone?” She claps as the ball soars through the uprights for the extra point.
“No, that’s alright. Thanks, though. I just might need to push back my plan to expand and start teaching classes.”
“You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
Looking around the sideline, I scan the different jerseys I can see, looking for my brother’s. Seeing what I’m doing, Lorelei points over to the left of the group.
“He’s over there,” she says and I feel myself smile as I find Dominic.
“How’s he been playing today?” I ask.
“Two touchdowns so far.”
She laughs as I cheer, belatedly, for my brother’s offensive prowess on the field. I know she understands .
Lorelei is obsessed with Tank, her husband. Her love for him is obvious. It’s so different from some of the other spouses. She doesn’t care about his ranking in the league or how he plays. She simply enjoys supporting her partner in his passion. She is at every game. Every event. Cheering every play and accomplishment. Whatever he needs, she’s there. And he does the same for her during the off season. You can see deep down they are best friends above all else.
As the top ranked tight end in the entire league, Tank could have gone anywhere when his contract was up last year, but instead of following the money he was being thrown, he signed a less lucrative deal to stay here, near Lorelei’s brother.
Selfishly, I’m glad she stayed.
Three years ago was Dom’s rookie season. The quarterback’s wife, Sasha, set up a dinner for the significant others of the entire team so they could all meet the new members of their exclusive club. Being the spouse of a professional athlete is a position that requires you to sacrifice everything for the betterment of a team. Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, weddings. If it’s not in the off season, it’s like it doesn’t exist.
When asked for a name for this dinner, my single brother gave mine, knowing I’ve been struggling to find a good group of friends. Our family moved here my sophomore year so Dom could play for the best high school football coach in the country. It was worth it for his dream, but I never seemed to click with any of the girls in my class.
Sasha welcomed me at the dinner, but I could tell she was not thrilled at Dominic’s blatant disregard for the nature of her request.
Lorelei Carlston sat next to me that night, and as they say, the rest was history. We quickly bonded over the fact we didn’t feel like we fit in, uncaring of the unspoken ranking of the spouses based on the ranking of their husband on the team. We joked and laughed all night long as we shared stories about Tank and our brothers.
As we watch the game today, we talk of small things. Nothing deep, but I enjoy the conversation all the same.
“No, I’m serious. There was one season Alec’s contestant refused to wear anything except swim trunks as shorts, which is weird but whatever. The problem was they were always light colored and you could almost always see his penis through them!” Lorelei giggles as one of the guys in front of us turns and gives us a dirty look.
We both love watching the games, but we aren’t going to only talk about football the entire game.
“What are you wearing to the benefit next week?” Lore asks at the next break in the action.
The holiday benefit is planned for the bye week after the team’s last home game in December. Private dinners with the players are auctioned off to raise money for whatever cause Sasha has picked out for the year. The guest list is extensive, with friends and family of the team staff, top-tier season ticket holders, and various sponsors.
The whole affair is the bane of my existence because the evening attire we are expected to wear is so expensive. And the last thing I will ever do is ask my brother for money.
“The same dress I wore last year,” I say, keeping my gaze on the field, my lack of dresses and formal attire embarrassing me.
“Why don’t you come over to my house? You can go through my dresses and see if there’s anything there you like?” She claps her hands in excitement.
I grimace. “That’s a very nice offer, but there’s no way I’m going to fit into anything you own. ”
While we both have black hair, that is where the similarities between us end. Even in high heels, Lorelei barely reaches my chin. She is slender, with gentle curves, and almost everything in a clothing store is made for her.
On the other hand, I’m an inch shy of six feet without shoes on and my curves are more like a road winding its way up a mountain, all thanks to my mother. We all tower over my already short father who seems to be shrinking with every passing year.
She looks at my long legs and my ample breasts and nods in agreement.
“You’re probably right. Charlie has a close friend who designs clothes and is also crazy tall with giant tits,” she says, mentioning her brother’s girlfriend. “I’ll call her for you tomorrow and we’ll get you all squared away.”
I’ve never met Charlie, but Lorelei has only had good things to say about her.
“You’re like a fairy godmother,” I tell her, clapping for the field goal we just scored.
“Don’t I know it.”
Flour dances in the air as the sun crests the horizon. The early rays break across the bakery case, bathing the various offerings in morning light. The blue and pink walls are bright, more like a toddler’s bedroom than a bakery. I have a lot of plans for the space, wanting to bring in some sophistication and expand the menu to include coffee drinks, but there’s only so much I can afford at the moment. So the pink and blue walls from the old ice cream shop that used to inhabit the space remain.
Liam, my shop boy, walks in at six on the dot, slinging his backpack on the floor behind the counter while running his hand over his tightly coiled hair.
“Anastasia! Guess what, guess what.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab the backpack and hang it from the hook Dad put up right inside the kitchen for exactly this.
I tripped over the bag one Monday morning, losing an entire tray of fresh croissants in the middle of our morning rush. And I almost broke my ankle in the process. After we got through all the customers, throbbing ankle be damned, I called my dad and he rushed over to make sure it never happened again.
“What? What?” I ask, mimicking his excited tone.
“I asked out Sophia!” he says, tying his apron around his waist.
Sophia is one of the popular girls at Liam’s high school whom he’s had a crush on since she wore a yellow polka dotted bikini to the community pool on the first day of summer over a year ago.
“And?” I ask, pointing to the sink silently reminding him to wash his hands, excited he finally worked up the nerve. If I tried to count how many hours we have talked about the various dating dynamics of teenagers during our time in the shop together, I would lose my mind.
“We are going to get ice cream on Saturday!” I try to remember the last time I went on a date as he soaps up, no closer to the answer when he turns off the water and begins drying off. “Which reminds me, is it okay if I cut out a little early? That was the only time she had available.” As he finishes drying his hands, he clasps them in front of his chest, giving me a smile full of braces and guilt. Knowing I’ll never be able to say no, I decide to tease him a little .
“Saturday is our busiest day, you know. And you’re giving me less than two days’ notice.” I cross my arms over my chest and pretend like I’m thinking.
“What if I promise to buff the floor on Sunday? We haven’t done that in a really long time and it could use it.”
I cock an eyebrow at the unexpected offer.
“You would do that? You know it can’t be done until the shop closes.”
Buffing the floor requires the chairs and tables to be moved around as well as a loud buffing machine I was able to get second hand. The intention had been to do it every Sunday before heading off to the football game since we close at ten a.m. during the season so I can watch Dom, but there was always something else needing to be done.
“My mom doesn’t need me to babysit this week.”
He hasn’t put his hands down the entire time, but now he adds on big, round eyes.
“Okay, fine. And I’m taking you up on your offer to buff the floor even though I was going to say yes without that,” I say, smiling as I move to the front of the shop, turning on the neon ‘Open’ sign.
His mouth drops open, arms fall to his sides, and my smile widens even further.
“You were going to say yes?” he asks.
“Yup,” I say, popping the ‘p’.
“So, I don’t have to buff the floor then?” He holds still in expectation and I almost give in. Almost.
“No, that was the agreement I accepted. You leave early on Saturday and I get a freshly buffed floor on Sunday.”
“But you were going to say yes! ”
“Sounds like you learned not to put all your cards on the table until you see what the other person is going to do,” I tell him, jokingly, but it’s an important lesson. One I had to learn through similar trial and error. I’ll never forget the four weekends I had to spend helping Mom with the gardens to go on a school canoe trip.
His shoulders slump and I feel a little bad for him, so make a mental note to talk to my father and see if he can come help him with the buffing. The whole family loves Liam, but Dad especially.
“He’s a good kid,” he tells me every time he sees him, like I don’t already know.
Liam joined my shop last school year as a way to earn credit for a business class. It meant his first class period of the day on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were spent here with me, opening the shop and helping our early morning guests. When the school year came to an end, he asked if I would take him on as part-time help. Considering I wasn’t the only person to fall in love with him, my customers and family did too, I happily agreed. His presence allowed me to take on a few additional custom orders a month, covering the expense of paying him.
“Don’t look so sad, kiddo. Sophia is going out with you!”
His smile is as dazzling as a disco ball. The bell above the door tinkles as our first customer of the day walks in, and we prepare ourselves for a busy morning.
I rush into Lorelei’s bathroom where a makeup artist is dusting my friend’s face with some sort of powder.
“Sorry! I’m so sorry. I was finishing up a cake for a client and then I got some inspiration for another one and anyway, here I am. ”
I had rushed home to shower and change before coming over to take advantage of the glam team Lorelei hired for herself. My boobs are tapped in almost every direction under my t-shirt in preparation for the backless, deep plunging dress Lore had picked out from the designer friend for me. Lore said she had many stunning pieces from her time on the awards circuit with her various projects, and was happy for them to receive a night out, but they both agreed this one would show off my assets the best. I happen to agree, even with the inconvenience of the tape. I pull my phone out, answering Dad’s text I received while driving.
Dad: Liam ran out of polish. Small section to go. Where?
My parents remain unconvinced they have unlimited text messages no matter how many times I’ve called their phone company and had them explain it. Because of this, my father uses as few words as possible to keep from sending more than one text. Normally, I can figure out the message. Other times, I just have to call him and ask.
Anya: There’s more in the back closet, on the bottom shelf, behind the mop bucket
I told Liam he would have some help with polishing the floors and he said he’d change my name in his phone to “The Benevolent Boss”. Originally, I was simply “Bakery Lady” so I feel like it’s an improvement.
Anya: Is everything going okay?
My father sends a thumbs up emoji, his favorite, and I put my phone away.
“It’s okay, babe. I told you earlier than you needed to be here in anticipation of this. You’re right on time.” Lorelei smiles at me.
I would be offended, but she’s right. More often than not, I am going to run late. I do my best, but sometimes creativity strikes at the worst time. Unfortunately, the disorganization and changing plans for cakes at the last minute has led to some lost business.
“Did Liam tell you how his date went?” Lorelei asks as the hairdresser curls her tresses, while I plop into the chair next to her.
The week after we met, Lore stopped by to grab a variety of cookies and desserts from the shop for the executives at her job. Liam had stopped by after school to make a few extra dollars, and his eyes almost popped out of his head when Lorelei came strutting in.
With the shameless optimism of a teenager, he flirted with her as he filled her order. Hearts were bouncing around his head like in a cartoon. Lore has had a soft spot for the boy ever since, talking to him about his life whenever she comes into the shop.
“From what he said, his ice cream fell to the floor when he licked it a little too hard. He was convinced she’d never be attracted to him after that. But she gave him a kiss on the cheek at the end of the date and her phone number, so I think he’ll survive,” I tell her as my makeup artist begins working on my closed lids.
“Good for Liam! Alec never orders cones for his ice cream after a similar event. Our mom refused to buy him a new one since she had warned him against the double scoop.”
“Always have to listen to Mom,” I tell her, laughing. “Dom never did either, and he suffered the consequences a time or two.”
She doesn’t respond, and I open my eyes, looking over at her. Her eyes are downcast, no smile on her face, and I know I stuck my foot in it. One night, sharing a bottle of wine, Lorelei and I sat cuddled under a blanket on her outdoor couch, looking over her and Tank’s backyard. As we talked, the topic turned to family, and she shared how her mother tragically died while she was in high school .
“Lore,” I say, but she picks up the pieces of her broken smile and fits them back together on her face. Not quite the same, but a good approximation.
“It’s fine. Don’t mind me,” she says, waving away my guilt. “Are you bidding on anyone tonight?”
Her change of subject is as subtle as a tornado siren, but I let it pass.
“Dominic forced me to take some money to bid on him in case no one else does.” Lore snorts, looking at me with a real smile this time and I roll my eyes. There’s no way my brother won’t be bid on. He’s told he looks like a young, dark-haired Jensen Ackles constantly. I don’t see it, but then again, he just looks like Dom to me.
“I can tell you which players I know are single,” she says, with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows making me roll my eyes.
“You know I don’t have any time to date. I think in the last month I’ve left the bakery on time twice. Dates don’t really like to wait because I’ve been struck by inspiration or have a deadline. Plus, if I have one more guy serenade me trying to prove he’s going to be the next big thing, I might scream.”
She turns toward me. The hairdresser followed her movements with the practiced ease of a professional. “You should go on House of Desire !”
“The dating show with the candles? Where twenty people compete for the hand of one? Pass.” I give a dismissive flick of my hand and hold my mouth steady as it’s painted.
“I know for a fact Parker, the guy from season ten of House of Deceit , the tall blond one that Charlie flirted with? He’s going to be the lead. You could be one of his flames! He’s a really great guy. Truly. I wouldn’t lie to you about this. He’s not a wannabe actor or aspiring musician. Plus, I’ve always thought you two would be a good match.”
I can’t respond as my mouth is painted, but my mind is working through every excuse in the book.
“ And ,” she continues, “my brother can get you in. They just started going through the women’s applications. I could give Alec yours, personally. Some of the wranglers from Deceit have moved over to Desire .”
Dating has been hard in LA. Between the wannabe actors and aspiring musicians, I’ve taken a bit of an unintended hiatus. That, and the store keeps me busy. I perk up a little. If I went on House of Desire , I would have the ability to talk about the bakery. That could be incredible marketing. Plus, maybe there is some merit to trying something different.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, surprising both of us.