—This Means War—
..
JENNIE
..
..
Two days later I arrive at the shop after nine in the morning. I'm meeting Yoshi, my cupcake truck business partner and friend. My goal had always been to set up a storefront, while Yoshi really enjoyed being on the move and networking in new areas. He wanted to travel, and I wanted a home base.
We made a deal that he gets to keep the cupcake truck and the rights to the business. Instead of buying me out completely, he's agreed to continue to bake the cupcakes and I'll continue to decorate them for both of us while I get Buttercream and Booze up and running. That way he doesn't have to find someone else to partner up with, and neither of us has to hire someone to help.
I met Yoshi upon my return from Paris, while I was selling desserts in a booth at a local street market. Like me, Yoshi had his own cupcake and pastry booth, and we were right across from each other. Realizing that it would benefit us to work together—and save on booth rental costs—we ended up pooling our resources and our creativity. Having been on the street market circuit for a couple of years, Yoshi took me under his wing and showed me the ropes. He baked the cakes and I decorated them. We were a great team in the kitchen. Within a year we'd saved up enough to buy a food truck, and Cupcakes to Go! was born. At first Cupcakes to Go! was great and I loved having a partner. But Yoshi and I started butting heads since we both wanted to be in control of the business side, and by then I knew it was time to move on. It was always a temporary business venture, but it was a great learning experience.
This morning he's stopping by so he can try my newest cupcake creation and we can decide if there need to be any adjustments to the cake flavor and texture. The Cupcakes to Go! truck is parked out front on the street when I pass. The back door to my shop is already propped open with a wedge, which is considerate. It means I don't have to search my purse for my keys.
I'm busy juggling the cupcakes, my purse, and my travel mug, so I almost step in another pile of poop right in front of the door. "What the hell?" I grumble, looking around. Who would walk their dog in the back alley where there's all kinds of garbage? And who would leave their freaking dog poop behind? Maybe whoever it is has some kind of beef with the previous storeowner. Or maybe they have something against buttercream icing and booze.
The possibility that I've already made potential enemies and I haven't even opened my doors to the public unnerves me. I shake my head. I'm being paranoid. This isn't the food truck business. No one is going to slash my tires here.
I sidestep the poop and set the cupcakes inside, out of harm's way. This time I hunt down an old plastic bag immediately so I don't forget about it and no one accidentally steps in it. I make a face as I crouch down to pick it up, expecting the noxious odors to hit me, but strangely enough all I get is the faint stench of garbage. I also expect it to be squishy and gross, but it's unusually firm. Completely solid, in fact.
Once it's safely in the bag I try to lob it into the dumpster, but my aim sucks and it hits the side with a low thud and thwang.
I frown, because dog poop should not make that kind of sound when it hits metal. I don't know what gets into me, other than curiosity, but I open the bag and peek inside. Which is when I realize that it's not real poop. It's plastic.
I glance over at The Manoban Cap and narrow my eyes. She must've seen me step in the poop the other day and this is her idea of being funny. "What a jerk."
Yoshi pokes his head out the back door. "I thought I heard someone back here. What's going on?"
I pull the fake poop out of the bag. "My neighbor is a turd, that's what's going on."
Yoshi makes a face. "Is that…"
"It's fake." I stalk over to the service entrance of The Manoban Cap. The door is propped open with a wooden wedge. The sound of a circular saw and the loud strains of rock music come from inside. I replace the wedge with the fake poop and as an afterthought, I take the wedge with me, because screw her.
"What was that all about?" Yoshi asks as I scoop up the box of cupcakes and he follows me down the hall.
"Apparently my new neighbor has the maturity of a twelve-year-old and thinks she's a comedian."
"Making friends already, huh?" Yoshi chuckles.
"Haha. As you can clearly hear, she's not the quietest, most conscientious neighbor." I set the Tupperware on the counter and wash my hands before I open it up to display my late-night endeavors.
"Oh, wow!" Yoshi wafts his hand over the container, inhaling deeply. "Is that maple? And bourbon? And bacon?"
"It is. Try one and tell me what you think. I'm not sure if the maple flavor is too overpowering in the icing." I tap on the counter, trying to be patient while he peels the wrapper and takes a healthy bite of the cupcake.
He closes his eyes and chews, nodding slightly. "The bourbon cream in the center balances out the maple perfectly. I wouldn't change a thing."
"Really?"
"They're decadent, Jennie. People are going to fall in love with them. Can you email me the recipe and I'll make a test batch tomorrow so I can be sure I get it right?" He glances inside the Tupperware and taps the top of two small containers labeled icing and filling, nestled among the cakes. "You're so on top of things. We're still doing the lemon drop cupcakes as well?"
"Yes, definitely. Plus the usual flavors, and the morning glory cupcakes. I have everything I need for the buttercream."
"Okay, great. Then I think we're all set. You're doing a fabulous job, Jennie." Yoshi gives me a kind smile.
"Thanks, I really appreciate your help."
"Well, it's mutually beneficial, isn't it? You honestly put together the most amazing flavor combinations."
I wave off the compliment, getting emotional about the whole thing. While I'm not going to miss the cramped quarters of the cupcake truck, we've been working together for a long time and he's been a good friend and partner.
He gives me a side hug, grabs the Tupperware and heads out. I'll see him at the crack of dawn on opening morning so I can decorate the cupcakes and make sure everything is picture perfect.
A few hours later, Lumberjerk passes by my front window, waving jovially.
Such a jerk.
..
..
..
As the week progresses I decide that my disdain for Lisa is completely justified. She's a dick. Or that's what I thought, she has a giant, stupidly attractive dick who always wears long-sleeved plaid shirts—yes, I totally made up the flannel part—rolled up to her elbows with another shirt underneath it. And jeans. And work boots. Every damn day.
How do I know this?
Because every single day she passes my storefront at some point and makes a big show of waving exuberantly while shouting hello.
And yesterday she was wearing a pair of black, thick-rimmed glasses. It's all too much. And annoying.
Especially since she seems to love getting under my skin.
Every day I find a flyer tucked into one of my flowerpots for some kind of class or session to help "calm the restless soul." One has a coupon for three free yoga sessions, which I'd be tempted to use if I actually had time for yoga. The next day she leaves me a brochure warning me about the effects of too much sugar and caffeine. It's even accompanied with lavender oil.
But what really takes the cupcake are the contents of the cardboard box I find sitting in front of my door this morning. I'm hesitant to open it, assuming something is going to jump out at me. I'm relieved to find nothing living, or dead, inside the box. That relief is short-lived, though, because inside the box is my unicorn martini glass. Except it's been reassembled ass backward—quite literally. There are now plaid accents and a little logo with a guy in a suit of armor wearing one of those old-school nightcaps where its eyes used to be. Also, the horn is sticking out of its butt.
Half of me is annoyed and the other half is impressed that she took the time to do this to needle me. Again. It's a hideous, yet quite amazing work of art. Not that I would ever admit that to her face.
On the upside, the constant banging seems to have stopped. The paper is still on the windows, so I'm assuming it's going to be a while before the place opens. Although a new sign was put up yesterday boasting the name THE MANOBAN CAP in masculine gold letters. I'm almost surprised there isn't some kind of plaid on the signage. I'm sure there will be loads of it making the interior extra gaudy.
But today I could care less about Lumberjerk, because it's my grand opening and it's going to be amazing. My Instagram following is already over one thousand, my Facebook page has double that. More than two hundred and fifty coupons have been downloaded.
I've been here since four in the morning frosting and decorating cupcakes. We have hundreds ready to roll, and Yoshi has a contingency plan should I be a little too hopeful about opening day. The display case is perfectly organized and prepared; the specials board is a work of art.
I make sure today's featured cupcakes and drinks are front and center in the showcase: a lemon drop cupcake with lemon curd filling and a tangy lemon buttercream complemented by a delicious, tart, lemon drop martini. Its counterpart is a bourbon bacon cupcake with maple buttercream icing paired with a smoky bourbon old-fashioned topped with a strip of maple candy bacon. Yes, I've already Instagrammed them.
The sandwich menu is simple, yet the variety is pleasing enough for every palate and the array of savory and sweet scones, plus coffee and tea options, make this the only cupcake cocktail café of its kind.
I step outside and set up my A-frame sign boasting today's specials and my quote of the day:
"WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS MAKE LEMON DROP MARTINIS!"
I double and triple check that the bar is stocked, the coffee is ready to be poured, the hot water is prepped for tea and Callie is comfortable with her counter duties. She's my only employee—because one person is all I can reasonably afford to pay. I'm hoping we can handle whatever gets thrown at us. She looks adorable in her Buttercream and Booze shirt, and her shoes have a lemon wedge print on them, which is beyond perfect. Thankfully, Rosé's agreed to help out this morning and not to take photos. I'm so freaking lucky to have her as a friend.
I clap my hands excitedly, smooth my palms over my apron and adjust the hem of my dress. Today I'm wearing an off-white dress with a huge lemon slice pattern. I added a temporary lemon slice tattoo on my cheek, decorated with a tiny yellow jewel.
I give Callie a brief rundown of the specials. While I expect the majority of my business to cater to the lunch, afternoon, and cocktail hour crowd, it seems spiked coffees might very well be a hit this morning, considering the line of people waiting for the doors to officially open.
We're only a few blocks from the university, and there are several student-centric apartment buildings close by, as well as plenty of local businesses.
The first hour is mayhem of the most delicious sort. It doesn't matter that it's not even noon—almost everyone seems to want cupcakes and coffee or tea. The college crowd and the Saturday shoppers fill the café in the early afternoon, the two-for-one cupcake coupons are piling up, and I'm kept busy making martinis and bourbon old-fashioneds while Callie works the cash. Rosé sticks around since we're far busier than I anticipated, which is not a bad problem to have.
Around three in the afternoon the door tinkles and Lumberjerk weaves her way through the tables, making every single woman in the place—college students, mothers, grandmothers—and a good percentage of the men do a double take.
Rosé whistles low under her breath. "Holy crap I think my panties just lit themselves on fire."
I shoot her a look. "She's not that hot."
Rosé gives me her seriously face but she doesn't have a chance to respond because Lisa's already standing in front of us. I plaster on a smile. "I think you're in the wrong place. Axe throwing is next door."
"Jennie." Rosé elbows me in the side.
Lisa smiles back, widely. As if she knows exactly the effect she's having on me and every damn woman in here. "I thought I'd stop by and grab one of those cupcakes everyone seems to be freaking out over." She pulls a two-for-one cupcake coupon out of her back pocket. Where it's been curved around her tight ass.
Not that I've noticed how tight it is over the past week. Okay. I've totally noticed. Every single time she's walked past the front window.
She passes me the coupon and I snatch it from her with more aggression than necessary, which makes that smile of hers widen even more. Damn her and her perfect teeth and her sexy eye-crinkles. I motion to the display case of cupcakes, each tray labeled based on flavor with a description of the cake and frosting combination. "What tickles your fancy?" I cringe internally at my terrible choice of wording.
Lisa tips her head to the side and her tongue peeks out of the corner of her mouth. I want to shove it back in—with a mixing spoon.
She shrugs. "What you do recommend?"
"How about some Death by Chocolate?"
She chuckles. "I'm not really a fan of chocolate cake, or death."
"Not a fan? Obviously you've been eating the wrong cake." Rosé's voice is smoky and low, like she's thinking about eating one of those Death by Chocolate cupcakes off Lisa's naked chest, while riding her.
"Maybe." Lisa shuffles over a few steps and leans in, peering at the options. She taps on the front of the case, leaving behind a fingerprint. "Bourbon bacon cupcake with maple buttercream? That sounds good. I'll try one of those."
"Would you like it to go?" Yes, I'm trying to get her out of my shop as quickly as possible since her mere presence is a gray cloud hanging over what's supposed to be a sunshiny day.
Her gaze lifts, wry smile firmly in place. "Nah, I'll sample the goods right here, but thanks."
I slip my hand into a pale pink non-latex glove and pluck one of the cupcakes from the display case, then wait for her to decide on her second one.
"The lemon drop cupcake is a featured special today if you'd like to give it a try."
"Hmm. Is it sour?" The like you is clearly intimated, though unspoken.
"It has some pucker power, if that's what you mean. It's a good balance of sweet and tart."
"So exactly like its creator, then?"
Rosé chokes on a cough and turns away so she can help the next customer while I finish up with Lisa. She hems and haws for another minute before she finally decides to go with the lemon drop cupcake.
"Would you like anything to drink with that?" I set the plate on top of the glass display counter.
"Nah, just the cupcakes, thanks." She passes over a five-dollar bill.
She braces a forearm on the glass case, despite the fact that there's a sweet little sign that reads DO NOT TOUCH THE GLASS. Peeling the pale yellow wrapper from the lemon cupcake, she jams half of it into her mouth in one bite, making a small noise of surprise—likely a result of the sweet-tart combination of flavors. Cake crumbs litter the glass top and there's now a small line of customers waiting.
Instead of moving aside, she continues to devour the cupcake in a less than polite manner, while leaning on the display case, making it impossible for anyone else to check out what's available. Not that any of the waiting customers are particularly upset about it, considering the way many of them are eyeing her, probably wishing they're that freaking cupcake she's mowing down on.
She eats the first one in three bites and licks the icing from her fingers before she starts in on the bourbon bacon and maple one. Her brows pull down on the first bite, and a deep groan follows. She chews quickly, her throat bobbing as she swallows. "Holy fuck, that's awesome. It's like sweet, but not? Savory, but…decadent?" She jams the rest of it into her mouth, leaving more crumbs on the glass top counter and making a general mess.
She also groans her way through the mouthful. It's ridiculous. "Wow. That was amazing. They both were, but the bacon is the winner for me. Can I buy half a dozen of those?"
"Of course you can!" Callie appears out of nowhere. "I can help, Jennie, and you can take care of the new customers." She gives me a slightly manic, bright smile.
"That'd be great. Thanks."
Lisa glances at what has now become a significant line. "Oh shit. I'm kinda holding things up, aren't I?" She winks at the waiting customers, who all happen to be women. "Sorry, ladies."
There's a collective murmur of "it's okay" and "no problem" and I'm pretty sure someone says "marry me."
I let Callie take over her order since Callie's already loading up a box for her.
Her little performance seems to have an impact on the rest of the customers standing in line, because every single one of them orders a bourbon bacon maple cupcake.
On her way out, Lisa stops at a couple of tables to chat with some of the customers. I eye her suspiciously, but I don't have time to contemplate it much since she's created quite the backlog.
"You failed to mention Lumberjerk is also a super hottie," Rosé mutters as she bumps my hip so she can get to the cupcakes.
"That's because her personality ruins all the pretty," I reply. But that's not entirely true, because despite the jerkiness, I can still definitely appreciate how nice she is to look at, unfortunately.
"I don't know. Is she really that bad? She came in to support you, and now everyone is ordering cupcakes by the half-dozen, so it's not like she's bad for business."
I grunt instead of answering, because Rosé might be right, but admitting it is against my current moral standards.
We run out of bourbon cupcakes so I have to run to the back to restock the display case while Callie and Rosé manage the front counter.
..
It's nearly four thirty before things calm down and I can finally take a breath. I move through the tables, checking on customers. I pause to clear some plates at a two-top with a pair of women in their mid-twenties and notice a couple of pieces of paper sitting beside an empty coffee cup. Upon closer inspection, I realize it's a coupon. For half-price wings and beer at The Manoban Cap. And it's for today.
As if on cue, the low rumble of bass coming from next door makes the floor vibrate under my feet.
I plaster on what I hope is a pleasant smile and tap the coupon. "Do you mind if I ask where you got this?"
"That super hot girl who orgasm-moaned her way through her cupcake at the display case dropped it off at our table on the way out," she offers.
"I'm stuffed, but I would totally pretend to sip a beer so I could stare at her for a while." Her friend pats her belly.
They both laugh and I join in, although I sound like I'm choking on a squeaky toy, or like I've swallowed the Wicked Witch of the West. "Do you mind if I take one of these?"
"Go right ahead! I say you should treat yourself after you close up for the night and enjoy some eye candy." She pushes one of the coupons toward me.
"I might do that." I wink and slide the coupon into my apron pocket, then clear their empty plates and cups.
After I drop them in the bus bin, I sidle up to Rosé at the till and slap the coupon on the counter. "Looks like our neighbor wasn't being quite so supportive."
Rosé scans the coupon. "Where'd you get this?"
"She gave it to our customers on her way out. Invited them to her Grand Opening. So kind and thoughtful, huh?"
"But you said that place was a construction site last week. How could it be ready to open so soon?"
"Who the hell knows?" I glance at the tables and notice that there are several women holding the same damn coupon. That slimy bastard. "But I'm going over there to confront her. Hold down the fort." I grab the coupon, stalk around the counter and head for the door, my anger gaining steam as I step outside and notice the giant GRAND OPENING banner plastered to her storefront and the sign that looks almost exactly like mine, but reads DONE WITH TEA AND CAKES? NEED A BREAK FROM WONDERLAND? HALF-PRICE BEER IS HERE!
"Sonofdouchecanoe!" I mutter and stomp my way up the front steps. I yank on the door, expecting the same suction vacuum as last time. However, the problem must have been fixed last week because it opens surprisingly easily, almost sending me flying backward. Again, but for the opposite reason.
I recover before I end up sprawled out over the sidewalk and step inside the low-lit pub. It's the exact opposite of my bright, airy café. However, I can easily pick out at least six tables with familiar faces—because they were all recently patrons of mine before they defected here.
I loathe to admit that in the week since I stepped foot in this place, it's come together quite nicely. Despite the dim lighting, I can see the tables are pale pine, and the décor, although lacking in sophistication, is cozy and comfortable. And, as I predicted, there's a red-and-black plaid theme throughout.
Perfectly publike. It's a great place to sit back, drink beers, eat wings and hang out with other hipsters while getting your axe throw on. Which is exactly what's happening in the back half of the pub.
It's even manned by a huge, ominous-looking bouncer who doesn't let anyone through the door without first signing a waiver and passing a sobriety test.
I drag my attention away from the axe-throwing enclosure and search the bar for the backstabbing turd who owns the place. I find her behind the bar, a black towel thrown over her shoulder, matching her black-rimmed glasses.
I cross the hardwood floor, noting that it's been freshly varnished, and step up to the bar as Lisa places a pint in front of one of her customers with a wink. She also happens to have recently been a customer of mine.
Lisa grins when she sees me and props her thick, gloriously tattooed forearms on the bar. Gloriously tattooed? What is wrong with me? "You taking a break from Wonderland to join the madness, Alice?"
"I'd like to talk to you."
"I'm a little busy." She motions to the already crowded pub. "But you can pull up a stool and tell me all your woes over a pint." She winks.
I want to poke her in the eye.
I ignore her semi-flirtatious behavior, aware that these are probably the lines she uses on every single woman who bats their lashes at her, which I don't do. Instead, I slap the coupon on the bar. "Would you care to explain this?"
"It's a coupon for half price beer and wings. Not sure you're much of a wing eater since that would mean getting your fingers dirty." And there's that smile again. So condescending.
"I know it's a coupon and I know what it's for, thanks. I'm fully capable of reading. What I'd like to know is what the hell you think you're doing coming into my café under the guise of being supportive, when really, you were planning to steal my customers."
Her smile drops. "I wasn't trying to steal them."
"Oh, really?" I wave the coupon in front of her face. My voice continues to rise over the thumping bass. "So you just happened to stop by and drop a handful of coupons at my patrons' tables inviting them to leave my place and go to your Grand Opening, which you also happened to schedule the same day as mine?"
She bites her bottom lip, glancing at the women sitting at the bar to her right, who all recently came from my café. "Can we talk over here?" She tips her head to the end of the bar.
I follow her lead and meet her at the other end. She uses her hip to open the swinging half door that separates the bar from the rest of the pub and motions me down a short hall. Old, framed photographs line the wall, a few of them slightly askew, as if someone has brushed them with their shoulder on the way past and tried to right them, but only ended up setting them even more out of line. For some reason it's endearing, annoyingly so. She ushers me into a small office, which was clearly left out of the renovations based on the ancient desk and the rolling chair that looks like it's from the seventies.
She leaves the door slightly ajar. In this confined space I'm noticing how big she is compared to me. At five-five I'm not exactly fun-sized, and my heels put me at a solid five-eight, but Lisa is well over six feet.
Not that I'll allow her size to intimidate me.
I toss the coupon on her desk—it's messy and there is a pile of them scattered all over it—and cross my arms. "Real dick move, hijacking my Grand Opening, Lisa. You said your place wouldn't be ready for at least a couple of weeks. It somehow miraculously came together in one?"
Her brows pop. "It's not like we're appealing to the same client base. You serve fruity drinks and cupcakes, and I serve beer and bar food."
"That might've been a decent argument if you hadn't come by pretending to be all nice-nice, putting on a great show for my customers, having yourself a foodgasm in front of them, buttering them all up and stealing them right from under my nose with this." I stab at the coupon.
She half-rolls her eyes. "I didn't steal them."
"Like hell you didn't!" I throw my hands up in the air, agitated, and nearly hit her in the face since there isn't much room for flailing in here. "More than half the women lining your bar were in my café before you pillaged them."
"Okay, pillaged intimates something a lot more sinister than handing over a coupon and inviting them to stop by when they were done at your place."
"They might have stayed longer, had another drink, ordered some cupcakes to go if you hadn't stopped by and flashed your pretty smile and special offers at them." I flick her glasses, which is admittedly crossing the invisible don't-touch line, veering into assault territory, but I'm really fired up and we're less than a foot apart so it's almost impossible to not touch her. "Are these even real or are they a prop? What about your tattoos? I'd hardly be surprised if you ordered those fake sleeves online so you can look more hipster than you are." I don't know what it is about this girl, but she brings out a side of me that I didn't even know existed. Sure I can get worked up about things, but not usually to this degree.
"So I can…What?" She shakes her head and holds up her hands, maybe to prevent me from flicking her again. "I've been pulling twenty-hour days for the past week, and if I wear my contacts it feels like I have sand under them. The glasses are real, and so are the tattoos."
"So you're a legit thieving hipster. Good to know."
She purses her lips. "I'm not trying to steal your business."
"And I'm supposed to believe you after you drop by and flirt with all my customers and leave these coupons for them?"
"I wasn't flirting with them."
"Oh my God! Yes you most certainly were with the smiles and the banter and the damn winking."
"I don't wink."
"Oh yes you do."
"I do not."
I hold a hand up, unwilling to argue about this. "The winking isn't the point. The point is that you're a lying, conniving bastard and I'm on to you."
I reach for the doorknob at the same time she does, so her fingers skim the back of my hand. I jolt from the contact, because it honestly feels a little like I've been electrocuted. Not in an I'm going to die kind of way, but more of an unexpected stimulating way. I'm not sure which is worse, actually.
She raises both hands in the air and adopts a contrite expression. "My intention wasn't to steal your customers, Alice."
"It's Jennie, not Alice!" Of course she's still making fun of me. "As if I'm going to believe that after you leave fake poop in front of my back door and all the anger management, get Zen with yourself flyers! Not to mention what you did to my poor unicorn martini glass!"
She rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on, I was playing around and you have to admit the unicorn glass looks way cooler now."
"It's an abomination! And of course it's funny to you since you're the one doing the pranking!"
Her expression sobers. "Look, it's too bad you took it the wrong way, but you came in here that first day guns blazing and I figured it might lighten you up. Obviously I was way wrong about that. As for the grand opening, I just thought it would be better for both of us if they happened on the same day, more like a two-for-one kind of deal, you know?"
"You mean you thought it would be better for you since I'd already done the work to bring people to the area. If you really thought it would be better for both of us you should've approached me, but you didn't."
She crosses her arms. "Well maybe I would have if you'd been more approachable."
I prop a fist on my hip. "And you think playing pranks on me would accomplish that."
"Okay. So I should've told you my plan—"
I cut her off, triumphant that she's finally admitted she's wrong. "Of course you'll admit it was a mistake now, when the damage is already done."
Her eyes go wide, as if she's trying to look innocent. "I can see how this might look to you, but I really wasn't trying to steal your customers. Besides, it's not like people can survive on cupcakes and alcohol indefinitely—"
She did not just say that. "Do not try and justify your actions to me." I point a finger at her face. "I see right through you. Just remember, Lisa, you threw the first axe."
"What? I didn't throw anything."
"It's an expression." I roll my eyes. "I'm being cheeky. You threw the first stone, took the first shot. It's on." And with that I yank open the door. "You may have started the war, but I'll be the one taking you down, one sweet treat at a time." I wink and sashay through the bar, slipping my hand into my apron. I pull out a handful of my own coupons and toss them on tables, inviting customers to stop by before they head home so they can bring their loved ones something delightful to sink their teeth into.
..
..
..