Chapter 1 #2
As I grew up, so did my hunger. Not just to taste what she made, but to understand it and to hold a piece of her artistry in my own hands.
She let me in slowly, teaching me the delicate fold of batter, the soft patience of kneading dough, the quiet skill of knowing when a cake was ready by scent alone.
But the greatest lesson she passed down was unspoken: that baking was never just about presentation, it was about care.
About memory. About leaving a part of yourself in something that could bring others joy.
When she passed away from heart failure, I was devastated.
Her kitchen felt emptier, quieter, as though the magic had left with her.
But every time I slipped on an apron, I found her again in the rhythm of a whisk, in the swirl of frosting, in the sweetness rising from the oven.
Baking became my tether to her, my way of pulling her love forward into the present.
So, after college, I made a choice. I turned that inheritance into a business.
Don’t get me wrong, the road was anything but smooth.
I spent countless long nights creating multiple failed recipes until the darkness bled into the mornings.
Yet, whenever exhaustion whispered that I should give up, I heard her voice in my heart: “Baking is about love, patience, and a little bit of magic.” Those words became my compass.
And even now, every cake I bake is still a conversation with her, carried in sugar, spice, and memory.
Today, my bakery is a testament to her legacy.
Every cake I create is a tribute to the love and care she put into her baking.
When my customers take a bite of one of my cakes, I hope they feel that same warmth and love that filled my grandmother's kitchen for all those years. Zanova’s Tasty Treats is more than just a business to me.
It was my way of keeping her memory alive and sharing a piece of her with the world.
I was putting the last decoration on the two-tier Superman-themed cake when Denise called my phone to let me know that Nyala, my best friend, was on her way to the back.
“Hey, my best bitch!” she yelled when she stepped into the kitchen, a hair net covering her short bob.
“Hey, Ny. What brings you this way?” I removed the latex gloves, and we shared a hug.
“I came to make sure you were officially free from the trash! I wish you would’ve let me tase his ass when he refused to sign them papers the first time. You know I’m about that life.” She patted her purse, letting me know she had her taser on her.
My bestie wasn’t exaggerating. She'd proven time and time again that she definitely had my back! Her having my back is how we first met. Back in high school, I was ambushed by two girls who thought I was interested in one of their ugly-ass niggas. They confronted me on my way home. My hand game is on point, but they were some big bitches, looking like two linebackers on the football field. We were going at it when, out of nowhere, Nyala came charging down the block, landing punches left and right. We did those twins dirty that day. From that moment on, we’d been thick as thieves.
I went on to tell her how I saw Jerome’s daughter at the courthouse. Just talking about it had me getting in my feelings.
“Ny, she looked just like him. Same eyes. Same complexion… She’s what I envisioned our daughter would look like.” My voice cracked.
She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a firm embrace.
“Aw, Nova, boo. I’m so sorry this happened to you.
You deserve better. Better than Jerome’s dog ass, for sure.
But you can’t sit around dwelling on the past. I’m not trying to be insensitive or anything, but you need to get back out in the dating game.
I’m sure Jerome isn’t out there sulking and shit.
I bet that negro is getting his dick wet. Once a dog, always a dog.”
“I really don’t care who Jerome is sticking his dick in, as long as it’s not me.
I’m just not ready to deal with anyone just yet.
Just thinking about starting all over gives me a headache.
I just want to continue my journey, peacefully, doing what I love most, and that’s running my business and baking cakes. ”
“Nova, it’s more to life than working. I don’t know the last time I saw you get dressed up.
Hell, when was the last time you went and pampered yourself?
Got your hair, feet, and nails done? Don’t let that nigga think you down bad and looking all types of ways because y’all are not together.
Hell no!” She paused, getting a familiar look in her eyes.
“Bitch, I’m setting us up an appointment with Sue Young, so we can get a full body massage, and you can get those crusty-ass feet done. ”
“Bitch, my feet ain’t crusty!” I cackled. “And who the hell is Sue Young?” I was confused. “I thought your nail tech’s name was Mr. Lee.”
“It was. But Mr. Lee closed shop and moved to Chinatown, so I had to find a new nail shop. Sue Young got them gifted hands, girl. Look.” She held her hands out for me to see her freshly done nails, which were almond-shaped tips dipped in gold glitter that sparkled under my kitchen light.
“That’s not her name.” I continued to laugh while admiring the symmetry on both hands.
“Yes, it is. I swear! And you know she got the nerve to catch an attitude because I asked could she get me Chris Tucker’s autograph? How was I supposed to know she wasn’t the chick from Rush Hour? They all looked the same.” She shrugged her shoulders like she truly didn’t see the problem.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Ny, that’s racist!”
“No, it’s not. I bet they be talking about us while they do our nails and shit. They know Black people don’t speak their language.” She scuffed, flipping her hair. “And don’t try to change the subject. I’m picking you up tomorrow for a spa day.”
My best friend was right. The last time I actually cared about my appearance was the night of my anniversary a year ago. Since then, my hair stayed in a messy bun, my nails were bare, and sweats or leggings had become my uniform if I wasn’t actually in my work uniform.
“Do I have a choice?” I rolled my eyes.
“Not really.” We both broke into laughter before she lowered her voice like she was about to spill some tea. “So… Did you hear back from your business manager about the meeting with the tequila guy?”
“Yes! Finally! I was beginning to think he wasn’t going to reach back out. I heard he rarely does meetings, so I was lucky to hear back. I want to get the ball rolling as soon as possible.”
I was in the process of expanding my alcohol-infused cakes and tarts.
I already had a contract with a famous brandy brand, but now I was trying to score one with a tequila brand—preferably, Fuego Azul, one of the top brands out right now.
Fuego Azul was known for its sleek black bottles, blue-fire logo, and its use of fresh agave in all the flavors.
With their tequila, my cakes and tarts would all have sexual themes.
My menu already included “Lick Me Slow” cupcakes and my personal favorite, “Cream In Me,” a peach tart topped with twice-whipped cream.
“Friend, you have to let me go with you to this meeting!” Ny fanned herself dramatically. “That man is fineeee! Did you see his website? He looks like sex dipped in the finest chocolate! I just want to lick him!”
“Ny!” I burst out laughing. “You’re a fool. And you will not be going. This is business, not a time to find you a man. And I haven’t looked at his website, so I wouldn’t know if the man is fine or not.”
“I’m serious, Nova. At least let me catch the man.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
I shook my head but couldn’t stop smiling. She was a mess, but she was my mess, and right now, the only one making sure I didn’t let work swallow me whole.
“Nope. You have to get another man. I’m trying to do business with this one.”
“Shidd! If you don’t get the deal, at least get his number. Lord knows that man looks like he got BDE written all over him!”
“Well, good thing I’m not looking for a man. So…” I shrugged my shoulders.
“So, my ass. We are getting you back in the game. Starting when you go with me to this new lounge that’s opening next weekend.”
“Ny, I never said I was going. I said that I would think about going.” I shook my head, standing back to inspect the Spider-Man cake. It came out perfect.
“Same thing. This guy I met at the club a few weeks ago invited me and a plus-one. Since you are my only friend, you are going.” Nyala picked up the bowl of frosting and dipped a spoon inside, scooping up the leftover butter cream and putting it in her mouth.
“Mm. This is good.” She smacked her lips.
“Whatever. Let me box this cake up. I have a meeting in twenty minutes.”
After placing the cake in the walk-in refrigerator, my three o’clock appointment arrived.
I let Denise know to show her to the conference room, where I held all my meetings with clients.
Ten minutes later, Nyala and I were walking into the conference room.
A woman was sitting at the long mahogany table, on the phone while she tapped away on her tablet.
The first thing I noticed was how beautiful she was.
The expensive, powdered-blue Alexander Chanel pantsuit she wore let me know she was paid.
Her long, jet-black hair flowed effortlessly past her shoulders with a middle part.
I could tell it was hers. If not, I needed to ask who her hairdresser was because, baby…
Her ’do was slayed to the gods! Her golden-brown complexion matched her honey-colored eyes that seemed brighter under the room lights.
“Hey, baby, let me call you back. My meeting is about to start. No, Jamian… I will be home soon. I’m sure you can hold off until I get there, baby.
” She paused, then blushed at whatever the caller had said.
Considering the big-ass rock on her finger, I assume it was her husband.
“Okay. I love you more, big daddy.” She blew a kiss through the phone before hanging up and standing to her feet.
“Sorry about that. Ms. Pierce? I'm Modesty Armstrong. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” She reached her hand out for me to shake.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I shook her hand before releasing it. “Have a seat. Oh, and this is my best friend, Nyala.” The ladies greeted each other before we all took our seats.
“Ms. Pierce. I…”
“Please. Call me Zanova.”
“Sure. So, Zanova… my husband, Jamian, and I are set to open a new hotel in Ibiza, and we are in desperate need of a pastry chef for the grand opening. The person I originally hired had a death in his family, which brings me to the reason for my visit. I’d love to hire you for your exceptional services for our special night.
We’re hosting a pre-opening gala the evening before our grand opening, and I need a showstopping dessert table for our elite guests.
The pre-opening gala will be formal, but we plan to only serve finger foods.
We are saving the grand opening night for a huge banquet-style dinner.
I only work with the best, and from everything I’ve heard, that’s you.
I did my research, and I absolutely love your work.
Your cakes are incredible.” She smiled, and I returned the gesture.
“Thank you so much. I am honored that you chose me. I do have a couple of questions.”
She nodded. “Shoot.”
“You only need desserts for the pre-opening gala?”
“Yes. The hotel staff and the catering company we hired for the grand opening dinner are handling desserts that night.”
“Perfect. Okay…” I looked at my tablet. “When is the event? Right now, I am booked up for the next week or so.”
“That’s perfect for us. The grand opening weekend isn’t until next month. My fiancée is prepared to fly you and your team out on his private jet. As well as set everyone up for the duration of your stay in our executive suites, since you’ll be the contract holder.”
“Aw, shit! Boo, you better say yes! I always wanted to go to Ibiza!” Nyala yelled, completely embarrassing me.
“Nyala! I apologize for my friend.” I turned and gave her a stern glare while she shrugged. My friend could be over the top at times, but I wouldn’t trade her for the world, so I hoped Modesty wouldn’t be opposed.
Modesty laughed, allowing me to release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “She’s fine, Zanova. My best friend, Jayla, responded the same way when she found out that she would be attending the grand opening in Ibiza.”
After we chuckled at our friends’ outspokenness, I gave it a quick thought before kindly accepting the offer.
The $10,000 check sweetened the deal, she agreeing to pay me for any inconvenience the trip may have caused, given it was such short notice.
I have traveled around the world, baking cakes for many weddings and events, but a bitch has never been to Ibiza!
Although this trip was for business purposes, it may be what I needed to help kick-start my healing journey.
“Yesss! Bitch, we are going to Ibiza!” Nyala stood and started twerking.
Maybe I should rethink taking her ass!