Cake Love: All Things Payne (2 page)

I asked her once at happy hour a while back when I had one too many rum and cokes. She just smiled and looked over to Edgar Mimir, VP of Technology Infrastructure here at Mimir and brother to the founder, Jacob Mimir. The usual in control and wise Evaleen turns to mush in front of the man. Unfortunately for her, Edgar is a man-whore. Don't get me wrong, Edgar is a great guy and really sweet, I totally get what Evaleen sees in him. He is also crazy gorgeous. BUT, that man will do just about any woman who shows him the least bit of attention.

"Looking extra sexy today Drake!" Evaleen has yet to actually call me by my first name. When I first started she was very professional, addressing me as Ms. Drake, but once we got to know each other we have developed a very odd friendship. One of mutual respect, fear, love, and of course, cake. She prefers cheesecake, whereas I am open minded in my love of cake.

"It's just who I am Bechmann." I get up from my chair to illustrate my point by shaking my butt to an imaginary beat.

"When you got junk like this in the trunk and milkshakes that call all the men in the yard, then you need to let it shine!" I get more into the song playing in my head 'I Believe in a Thing Called Love' by The Darkness.

"Isn't it boys in the yard, not men?" Evaleen points out while shifting her weight so her firm little ass is half on and half off my desk.

I stop my dance and give her my stone cold expression. "I don't want boys Bechmann. Men, only men!"

I sit back in my seat slightly winded and pick up a pink sticky note, one of many, which Mr. Payne leaves on my desk so he doesn't have to speak to me. It reads:
Late work day. Order us pizza for dinner. Large, hand tossed, with ham, green peppers, and onions.
I pick up my pen and scratch out the toppings he listed, writing in pepperoni instead. I'm such a bitch to him.

"Speaking of men, have you found any on that site I told you about a few weeks ago?"

I smile and nod my head while putting the sticky note on my desk phone.

"Maybe! Alright, I can't keep it in; I found one guy that so far seems great. I was a little worried for a while because most of them came across as losers. One guy had his mom call me. Ugh! But when Hi-Ed-Junior emailed me, I liked what he had to say. He also didn't want a picture or phone number right away. I liked that. He just wanted to talk, well, message back and forth. Spend some time getting to know each other."

Evaleen leans across my desk and smirks at me. She is about to say something but is cut off with the opening of Mr. Payne's door. We both turn to see him standing in the doorway, his gaze jumping between us. I notice a little pink post it note in his hand and try hard not to sigh. He clears his throat before walking over, placing the note in his hand on the desk in front of me and glancing at my phone. Mr. Payne reaches over to pick up the pink note I edited, reads it, and grabs a pen to add more. When he is done he adheres it back to my phone before turning his eyes up to Evaleen’s irked gaze.

"Ms. Bechmann, don't you have some HR wizardry you need to be doing that doesn’t involve bothering my assistant?"

Most people cower in the presence of Mr. Payne. He is a tall, well-built man and has a strong presence. The kind of presence that screams, RUN! But, Evaleen is not most people. She isn't afraid of anyone. A man could hold a shotgun to her face and she would probably roll her eyes.

She surveys him without getting off my desk and answers his question, "No, Payne I don't. Don't you have some lackey you have to make cry?"

They both narrow their eyes at each other and I swear I hear rattlesnakes as tumbleweed rolls down the hall.

Mr. Payne looks back at me and waves his hand at the pink paper, then uses his two fingers to point at his eyes and then mine to let me know he's watching me. Once he walks back into his office and shuts the door I pick up the note on my phone: I wrote
Ham, Green Peppers & Onions on the Pizza. Get it right!

Rolling my eyes I glance at the other post it he brought out:
Drink your own coffee in the morning.

Damnit he’s on to me.

"His name is what exactly? It sounds weird."

"It's hi as in hello, then Ed, and then junior. It's probably Edward and he is named after his dad or something. I don't know. We have only been PMing on Gchat so I don't know his real name."

She is staring at me with a mouth wide open. After a few moments she regains her verbal function and twists her head to the side, crinkling her brow in confusion.

"He hasn't told you his real name yet?"

I shrug my shoulders. "No."

"At least tell me you have seen his picture."

I'm starting to wonder if I should have actually told her this to begin with. As I talk about it out loud it does sound kind of weird.

"Um...no. But he hasn't asked for my real name or picture either, so it's not like he's getting his load off on what I look like or anything." Wow, this is just sounding worse and worse.

Evaleen is standing now and pacing the floor.

"Let me get this straight, you don't know what he looks like and you only know his screen name. He also hasn't asked what you look like or for your real name either. He could be a seventy year old man in Orlando or a North Korean spy for all you know."

I chuckle at her paranoia. Shaking my head I put my feet up on the desk and play with my pen between my fingers.

"The dating site matches you based on age and where you live. So unless he lied about being in his early to mid-thirties and living in Chicago, then I am fine. Anybody can lie on those things, it's always a risk. I'm not telling him my bank account, just likes and dislikes. You know, normal stuff people do when they get to know each other. I doubt a North Korean spy has any interest in my belief that afternoon napping should be a law in this country. Businesses should adopt the Spanish act of siestas; we close for two hours every afternoon, preferably from one to three, so their employees can get in a much deserved nap.”

"I guess so, but just be careful okay. Every man wants to get laid eventually, and I just worry there is something wrong with him if he doesn't want to even talk to you on the phone."

Her eyes bug out as she stops pacing the room. Evaleen walks over to the corner of my desk and stares down at me.

"What if he's married?"

"He might be, Bechmann. Only time will tell. I'm not going to get myself worked up over something that might not even be true." I'm starting to get a little freaked out now. Why didn't I realize this stuff before? The way he said everything it just seemed normal, natural, and even a little romantic that he wanted to only use the written word to communicate. He could be in prison! Oh God, he's probably in prison, and he only gets internet privileges in the evening when we chat. He's going to get out of jail, track me down, and rape or kill me, or at least steal my money, not that I have much.

"Drake you're a better woman than I. I would be afraid he's a serial killer or something. Well, I better get back. It's almost eleven; shouldn't you be hanging out in the kitchen to avoid the nuclear fallout from the Brooks bomb?"

I nod my head and just sit there in shock as I watch her walk away. Maybe I should push him tonight when we chat to give me a picture, and ask if he's married and if he's ever been affiliated with the communist party.

My brain is making a mental list of all the questions I will discuss with him tonight when my nostrils become assaulted with a pungent odor. I look up and realize Ken Brooks has crept into the bathroom without my knowledge. It smells like he is shitting out a three day old dead raccoon. I've got to get out of here.

Chapter 2

Morgana's Problem: Her Friend

I walk through the front door of my apartment after a massively long day at work and toss my purse on the antique wooden writing desk that I inherited from my grandmother when she decided RVing across the country is the spice of life.

Mr. Payne ate most of the pizza I ordered, leaving one tiny slice for me. I never realized what an appetite that man has. Of course he made me eat my food at my desk, alone. It's like he’s allergic to humans.

Sighing as I flop down on my brown sofa sectional I grab the remote from our white particle board coffee table and flip on the television. I turn my attention from the small flat screen that stands on a red metal cabinet that looks like a squashed high school locker to the footsteps stomping out of the hall. I see my roommate, Aria, standing in front of me blocking the television. Her arms are folded and she is tapping her foot on our worn reddish Persian rug, another castoff from my grandma. It doesn’t take a genius to realize she is angry. The real question is what has her panties in a bunch now?

"Yes Aria, what did I do this time?" I try to look around her to catch the ending of The Mindy Project.

"Who the hell is [email protected]? And why is he sending you steamy emails?"

I wave her away from in front of me. She walks over to the couch and flops down, hugging her knees to her chest. I sit up a bit and face her.

"First of all, you really need to learn boundaries Aria. I think it's illegal to read other people’s email."

She shakes her head defiantly, sending her fine platinum blonde hair flying in the dry static filled air.

"No it's not. It's illegal to read postal mail that isn't addressed to you, but not email. I should know, my dad's a lawyer."

She has no idea. Her father may be a lawyer, but she doesn't know nor care what he does. She hates anything business related, being more the artistic spirit like her mom. Aria only breaks out the 'dad's a lawyer' argument when she doesn't want to bother with the explanation or threatening someone.

"Anyway, secondly Aria, it's none of your business who he is."

She pushes her finger into my chest and widens her dark brown eyes, giggles overflowing from her bubble gum pink lips, "Ha! Ha! I knew it was a guy. Come on Morgana; spill the syrup all over the table."

Oh Aria you and your expressions that no one on Earth would ever say. Not many people get her or understand the words that come out of her mouth, but it's Aria's odd sayings and ignorance with the laws of this country that make me love her even more.

"Okay, because you are my best friend. He is..."

I hear Honey Boo Boo child's narration from my ringtone which is radiating from my purse. Holding up my finger to Aria she sighs. I scramble up to the writing desk to dig through my bag and get the phone just in time.

"Hello?"

"Oh sweets! How is my favorite granddaughter?"

"I'm your only granddaughter, and I'm fine."

There is silence on the other line.

"Grandma you alright? Where are you? I can't hear you?"

"Sweets, I'm just crossing into Wyoming, heading to Yellowstone National Park. So I might cut out on you, not a lot of reception around here."

"Then why did you call?"

My grandma, I love her, but she picks the worst times to make phone calls. She’s usually traveling all over the country, so I rarely get to see her anymore. Ever since Grandpa died five years ago she has been restless. I worry about her all alone, but my parents bought her a big black and white dog named Orly before she left. The dog is for protection but I think he's more a companion to her now.

"I wanted to let you know Orly and I will be camping at Yellowstone, so you might not be able to contact me for a few days."

"Make sure you take Orly with you everywhere you go. That dog is crazy enough to scare off bears. I want to make sure you are safe."

"Oh sweets, you met someone haven't you?"

How does she know?

"What Grandma?"

"The last time you were worried about my safety you were dating that internet porn guy, Terance… Tony…"

"His name was Trevor, and he wasn't an internet porn guy. He filmed us...you know...doing stuff without me knowing about it."

"I hope you still don't worry about that. I saw it, what’s the big deal? You looked beautiful, but you always look gorgeous sweets."

I sigh. Can this conversation get any more uncomfortable? I never thought my grandma would be complimenting my beauty about a sex tape I was in.

"Changing subjects Grandma. I have met a guy, but we have only been communicating online for the past few weeks. He's in retail and I think he works a lot on the weekends as he hasn't had time to meet."

I look down at Aria who is still seated on the couch and now raising her arms in the air with disbelief.

"So, you tell your grandma but not me Morgana?"

"Oh sweets is that Aria? Perhaps you should tell me later about the guy, she might be jealous. You don't want to break her heart."

I roll my eyes which lets Aria know my Grandma is talking about her.

“Hello Mrs. Austin!” Aria yells toward the phone.

"Grandma neither Aria nor myself are lesbians. We are just friends.”

I turn my back to Aria to have a more private conversation with my Grandma.

"Sure, sure, sweets, whatever you call it nowadays. Well, I gotta go. I pulled off into a gas station. Give my love to your parents when you see them, and give your brother Daniel a big squeeze for me. Tell Aria I would never judge her. If she is your soul mate then it’s meant to be."

"Bye Grandma, love you."

"Love you too."

I hang up and place the phone back into my purse before turning to face Aria the Inquisitor. I sit on the couch to prepare for the assault.

"Seriously Morgana? I live with you and I don't know about this guy. Yet your grandma calls out of the blue and it's practically the first words out of your mouth."

"I love you Aria, but I’ve never done the online dating thing before. I wanted to make sure it was something before I told anyone. Besides I haven't met him or even seen his picture yet. He hasn't even told me his first name. Perhaps we meet and there is no chemistry, then what? I haven't dated in over five years, so I know everyone, including you, is going to make a big deal out of this. I guess I just don't want to disappoint you, or anyone else, if it doesn't work out."

Aria is pouting now and I see a tear escape. Her emotions, much like her personality, is flighty, one second angry the next sobbing uncontrollably.

"Oh Morgana! I'm sorry. I don't want you to feel like you have to make me happy. Here, you just tell me anything you want me to know and I won't ask any more questions, okay?"

I nod.

"I met him through an online dating service Evaleen told me about. He was the only one who understood my love of cake and comedy movies. That's actually why I picked him, because of his screen name Hi-Ed-Junior."

She is wrinkling her brow at me.

"I don't get it?"

"Raising Arizona! Hi, Nicholas Cage's character. Ed, Holly Hunter's character, and Junior, the baby they kidnap."

She shrugs, but nods to appease me. I know she has seen that movie before. I played it all the time on our dorm room television at college. Of course we were high a lot when it was on, but you would think she would remember something.

"So you both like the same movie that's something."

She is trying to sound positive and nodding her head to look convincing.

"Anyway Aria, I'm going to try to get him to meet me when I chat with him tonight."

She gets up and heads over to the kitchen to open the refrigerator. “Let me know how it goes.”

Once Aria is focused on food I know it's a lost cause to try and talk to her. What cake is to me, all food is to Aria. The woman has the metabolism and eating habits of a sixteen year old boy, with the body of a swimmer. Maybe because she swims any chance she gets. I get up and head into my bedroom and flop on my bed clumsily.

Compared to the hodge-podge style of our apartment, my bedroom is ‘quite grown up’ as my mother calls it. The walls are covered in silver framed classic movie posters, like Airplane and Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. I have a matching green and gray comforter set covering my mocha colored wooden bed. There are two matching dark side tables with an alarm clock I’ve dubbed Clocky on one and a cream ceramic lamp on the other. I had a matching lamp on Clocky’s table, but it was involved in an unfortunate accident one morning due to Clocky being an early riser.

Grabbing my laptop from under a pillow, I open the machine. Checking my emails and Facebook updates I hear a ping. My heart races as I know who it is. I click over to the Gchat tab and see Hi-Ed-Junior awaiting my response.

Hi-Ed-Junior:
Hello Sweetcakes! Had a long day today. Would have contacted you sooner but just getting home.

Yes my screen name is Sweetcakes. I know it’s terrible, but originality is just not my thing.

Me:
Hi. I got home a short while ago too. I hope there hasn't been trouble with your co-worker again? :(

Hi-Ed-Junior:
The usual. She always makes it a point to push my buttons. I think she gets some sick thrill in harassing me.

I hope she isn't flirting with him. Some women have never left the school playground and that's their idea of flirting. She needs to back off! Wow. How the hell am I so possessive all the sudden? I don't even know his name.

Me:
Yeah, my boss has been ignoring me as usual. If my boss and I were the last two people on Earth I'm pretty sure he would die before uttering a word to me. He's an ass.

Hi-Ed-Junior:
Ha. Ha. Well, if we were the last two people on Earth I don't think there isn't anything I wouldn't say or do with you.

And there it is, the cross over. He just went over the line into possible sex chat territory. I have never done this before, but with him I really want to. It would be better if I knew what he looks like.

Me:
Really? What are you wearing?

My palms are sweating as I type this. Part of me thinks I have taken it too far. He seems a bit shy; perhaps this is all too much for him. Of course the other part is throbbing and wet.

Hi-Ed-Junior:
Navy boxer briefs pushed down to my ankles.

Maybe he isn't as shy as I thought.

Me:
Oh. Is it big?

What am I sixteen? As soon as I send that my face goes red and I cover my eyes afraid of his response. I hear a ding and peak through a crack in my fingers.

Hi-Ed-Junior:
Big enough to fill you until you whimper my name. What are you wearing Sweetcakes?

I moan as I read it and bite my lip trying to think what to come up with. Wow, he went from one to five to one hundred in just a few lines.

Me:
Black lace bra and panties. My panties are so wet I have to take them off. You know this would be a lot more exciting if I knew what you looked like.

I hit enter and wait. A full minute passes before he responds. I feel quite certain I have scared him off.

Hi-Ed-Junior:
Perhaps we should talk about something else.

Shit! I ruined it. There is probably no way he will send a picture now. I guess curiosity doesn't just kill cats, but sex chatting too.

Me:
Okay. I'm sorry I pushed you to show me what you look like. It's just I don't understand why you can't show me your picture? Are you much older than you said, or younger?

Hi-Ed-Junior:
No, I'm thirty-four, going to be thirty-five in December. I'm not married or in a relationship, if that is what you are thinking. I know it seems weird I haven't given you my pic, you have my word that my face is fully intact. :)

Me:
I'm thirty and single, but I don't mind giving you my pic if you want to see it. If you are a completely normal looking thirty-four year old single guy, then what is stopping you from letting me know what you look like?

I just have to push this. What Eveleen told me today has been bugging me. I have to know more than his likes and dislikes.

Hi-Ed-Junior:
You can't tell but I just sighed and shrugged my shoulders in an overly dramatic way. How about this… My name is Ric and if you are free on Sunday at ten in the morning do you want to meet for coffee at Beans & Beans & More Beans on Wacker Drive by Lake?

Ahhh! I got a date! Not just that but his name is Ric! Ric. Hi, Ric. So nice to meet you Ric. I like how your jeans look on my floor Ric. I'm going to see Ric in all hi-Ed-Junior-thirty-four-year-old-Raising-Arizona-loving-ness!

Me:
Yes! I am free. How will we recognize each other?

Hi-Ed-Junior:
I think it is supposed to rain that day. I have a blue plaid umbrella. I will bring it, rain or shine.

Me:
Oh, that's a good idea. The old recognize me by my umbrella bit. I have a red umbrella, I'll bring that.