Chapter 21 #2
They spent the next half hour perfecting every detail. They arranged the pies just so, adjusting the sign until the lettering was perfect. By the time they carried the big platter and sign to the front window and set it up for maximum visibility, Junie’s heart was racing.
She stepped back and looked at their creation. The beautiful pies glistened under the lights, the bold pink lettering… it all said exactly what they wanted it to say. Hell, it screamed it.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel small or helpless. Power hummed under her skin, and a little spark of naughtiness curled in her belly.
And she liked it.
The meaning of their display was crystal clear. They placed it front and center in the bakery window where everyone walking by could see it.
Word spread like wildfire.
Late that afternoon, Cherry stormed into Bread & Batter with her entourage of friends trailing behind her, faces flushed with fury.
“You take that down,” Cherry demanded, pointing at the window. “Right now, you pathetic little—”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Junie said sweetly, coming around the counter. “Is there a problem with the display?”
“You know exactly what the problem is!” Cherry hissed, storming up to the counter with her three friends right behind her. “You’re trying to ruin my reputation with your childish, slutty little games.”
Junie’s hands found their way to her hips as she lifted her chin in defiance. The humiliation from the farmers’ market was still burning, but now it was mixing with something hotter—real anger.
Before she could find her voice, Kenzie stepped forward, arms crossed, mock sympathy coating her voice. “Oh, honey, that ship has sailed. Let’s be honest, your reputation’s been circling the drain for years.”
Martha, the tall brunette with too much eyeliner who had come in with Cherry, sneered. “At least Cherry doesn’t have to bake her way into anyone’s bed.”
Poppy’s eyes flashed. “I totally agree. Cherry doesn’t have what it takes to get anyone into her bed. Well, voluntarily that is. Of course, there are all rumors…”
Cherry’s face turned an ugly shade of red. Not taking her eyes off Junie, she said, “You pathetic little cow. You think being with Tanner makes you special? You’re just a sad, desperate bakery bitch who’ll never be enough for him. So enjoy him while you can because you won’t keep him long.”
The words stung, but this time Junie didn’t shrink.
“At least I built something real,” Junie said, voice shaking but clear. “Unlike those tits of yours.”
Rena, who had used about four too many bottles of peroxide on the straw she called hair, spoke up. “You only wish.”
Junie rolled her eyes. Why would she wish for fake tits? Cherry obviously picked her friends from the dull side of the crayon box.
Starla, the third in the trio of girls with Cherry, leaned in. “Nobody wants to buy you or any of the disgusting things you sell at this sad little shop.”
And Junie had had enough. “You can insult me, call my shop sad, and hate every display I put up, but when you insult my baked goods….” Junie snatched a cupcake from the display and hurled it straight at Starla. It exploded against her shoulder in a burst of frosting and cake.
Tildi threw her hands up and screamed with pure delight. “Food fight!”
And just like that, the bakery descended into delicious chaos.
Cupcakes sailed through the air like sugary missiles. Frosting splattered across the walls and floor. Kenzie grabbed a handful of whipped cream and smashed it into Cherry’s face. Poppy pelted Martha with a shower of sprinkles while laughing maniacally.
Joy and Kip teamed up, launching cookies like they were in a food war. Junie, heart racing with a wild mix of fear and exhilaration, grabbed a tray of chokecherry turnovers and flung one right at Cherry. Junie wanted to squeal in triumph as the dark red juices splattered all over Cherry’s chest.
Maybe next time, Cherry would think twice before she tried to bully her. The bell over the door jingled, and, out of pure reflex, Junie threw a tart toward the sound.
She froze in horror as the sheriff and one of his deputies stepped inside and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the absolute disaster zone that used to be her bakery.
A chokecherry drifted down the front of the sheriff’s neatly pressed shirt, leaving a trail of blood red juice in its wake.
Junie gasped. “Oh god, Sam! I’m so sorry. It was a case of mistaken identity.”
Heaving a deep sigh, Sam reached for the nearest table, took a bunch of napkins from the dispenser, and tried to wipe the tart juice from his shirt. But the more he wiped at the stain on his shirt, the bigger it grew.
“Apology accepted.”
Junie wanted to crawl into one of her cakeboxes and disappear.
But Sam was far from done. “I got a disturbing the peace complaint on this address. I thought for sure there was some mistake, but from the frosting dripping down the walls, and the sprinkles crunching under my boots, and the general disarray of the bakery… I’d have to say the report was valid.”
Junie looked around her shop for the first time since the food fight had started. Cherry and her friends looked like Junie had been preparing them to be part of a pie. Not that her friends looked any better.
Sam stood there, hands on his hips, staring at the mess like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.
Junie and Cherry pointed at each other at the same time, both yelling, “She started it!”
The muscles of Sam’s jaw clenched before he let out another long, heavy sigh, the kind that said now he’d seen it all.
Mitch, on the other hand, took one look at Cherry with whipped cream sliding down her face and barked out a laugh. Sam shot him a sharp glare, which had Mitch clearing his throat and studying his boots. But his lips were still twitching.
“All right, ladies,” Sam said, voice booming with that familiar mix of authority and pure exasperation. “You’re all gonna need to come with us. We’ll get this all sorted out at the sheriff’s office.”
Junie shrank where she stood, feeling about two inches tall as Sam’s disappointed gaze moved slowly across the group. Her stomach twisted when it paused on her just a tad longer than everyone else.
Mitch rubbed the back of his neck, still fighting to keep a straight face. “I haven’t seen anything like this since Iraq.”
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helping, Mitch.”
The sheriff eyed the ten of them—all covered head to toe in frosting, sprinkles, and guilt—and shook his head. “I’ve known most of you girls since you were in pigtails. And this is what you’re doing with your time? Throwing food like a bunch of toddlers?”
As lectures went, it was a good start. Junie shrank behind Kenzie, cheeks burning. She clutched the edge of her apron, feeling every bit the naughty little girl who’d just been caught red-handed.
Sam pointed toward the door. “Go on now. All of you.”
Cherry chose that moment to speak up. “We won’t all fit in that one squad car.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “My squad car is reserved for prisoners who aren’t wearing the pastry of the day. We’re not a mile from the sheriff’s office. Probably. You girls can hoof it. Mitch and I will follow in the squad car to make sure you arrive at the assigned destination.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Cherry said. “Do you see the heels that I am wearing?”
“Yeah, I do. They’re pretty. Now get going.”
“What are we gonna do with them at the sheriff’s office?” Mitch asked as he walked out the door. “Should we hose them down before we let them inside?”
“Shut up, Mitch. We have enough trouble on our hands without having to deal with a bunch of ornery Daniels boys mad that we’re running some kind of wet t-shirt contest at the sheriff's office. Get in the car.”
“Oh, we don’t have to get the Daddies involved,” Tildi said. “I brought my SUV, and it’s big enough to get us all home.”
Sam snorted, which was just rude. “Good try, but it can stay exactly where it’s parked. And don’t even think about trying to sweet-talk your way out of this. Your Daddies are gonna hear about this one as soon as we get to the office.”
Junie’s stomach dropped to her toes as their little group trudged down the sidewalk.
She could already picture Tanner’s face when he found out.
That stern look. Could hear the disappointed tone in his voice.
There was a very real possibility that she was about to spend a long, sore evening over his knee.
The long walk of shame from the bakery to the sheriff’s office felt like it would never end. Every step made a horrible squishy sound in her left sneaker where frosting had somehow oozed inside. Her cheeks burned hotter than the ovens back at work.
“Kill me now,” Junie muttered, trying to wipe a glob of pink frosting off her arm. It only smeared worse. “I have frosting in places frosting should never be.”
Kenzie snorted beside her, though she looked just as ridiculous with sprinkles stuck in her hair. “You? At least you didn’t get the entire tray of lemon bars dumped down your shirt. I’m pretty sure I’ve got zest in my bra.”
Tildi giggled, then immediately winced as her own shoe made an even louder squelch. “Mine are worse. I think buttercream just seeped between my toes. This is so gross. Why did we think a frosting fight was a good idea again?”
“Because we’re clearly very smart Littles,” Joy deadpanned, scraping crumbs from her cheek. She kept glancing around at the people staring from cars and storefronts. “Junie, is that your Nanabelle over there taking pictures and laughing?”
Sure enough, Nanabelle waved when she caught Junie’s eye.
In one hand she held the leash that she’d bought for Pup, the other she used to hold up her phone.
After she pointed to a picture, her thumbs flew over the buttons on her screen.
She made a big show of pushing one of them, then laughed so hard Junie feared she might topple over.
Even Pup seemed to find the situation highly amusing as he was now bouncing about and yipping as if laughing.