Heartbreak Cake (17 page)

“Why do you keep talking about Josh? How did we get on this subject?”

“He was asking you about that tall drink of water over there with the horn-rimmed glasses. He’s edible! You must date him,” Adam says, surprising Pedro and me both, since he has been so quiet and focused for the last 15 minutes that we both forgot he was there.

“Don’t mind me, kids. I just need to dampen your hair again. I’m changing direction. But keep talking. People always forget I’m here, which to me is a sign of a great stylist. And in case you’re worried, everything I hear goes to the grave. I promise. Unless it’s really juicy, then it goes to
TMZ
.” Adam hoots and pulls a water bottle from his tool belt like a gunslinger.

“But, I have to ask you two something,” he says after a beat. “This other guy you’re hung up on…is he married?”

“I thought you weren’t listening.”

“I said I don’t gossip. I can’t help but listen. I do have ears. Sheesh!”

“Yes, he is married, but we aren’t involved anymore. It’s over, and as cliché as this is going to sound, it really is complicated.”

“It always is with those married men.” Adam rolls his eyes. “Anyways, I think you may have pissed off a few people because there’s someone outside who seems to want everyone to know what she thinks of you.”

Adam points his round brush to the window facing 4th Street, which is now packed with hundreds of people here to watch the live taping. Some of them waving signs that read,
I Love Long Beach
,
Retro Row Loves Good Morning Los Angeles
, and
Let Them Eat Cake at Cake Pan
.

But amongst the happy crowd stands Samantha Tate holding a sign that says
Home-wrecking Baker
in perfectly straight penmanship. She even drew a cupcake with a cherry on top.

“Oh my God!!!” I scream and try to leap out of my chair, but am instantly pushed back in it by Adam’s strong hands. “What is she doing? She’s going to ruin me.”

“You stay put, missy. I need to finish your hair, and you are not about to get up and make a scene. It will draw attention. Right now, she’s still blending in.”

And it’s true. No one has noticed her yet. The crowd is too busy watching the television crew set up, and thankfully we have staff out there distracting everyone with warm doughnuts and fresh coffee. Tawny is getting her lips re-plumped by the makeup artist and typing into her Smartphone. No one cares about Samantha. Not yet.

“I’ll go,” Pedro says, annoyed, and I worry about Samantha and where he is going to shove that sign.

“Hold it, hot stuff. Take a seat. It’s already being handled.”

We turn to look out the window again, and there’s Noah handing Samantha a cup of Cayenne hot chocolate. A Cake Pan favorite that we serve at evening weddings in the winter. There’s something about the taste of sweet and spicy that just puts people in a happy mood. It’s hard to resist, so I’m not too surprised when Samantha begrudgingly takes one from Noah’s tray. But I’m floored when she gives him the tiniest of smiles after she takes a sip.

“All that height, and broad shoulders, and he can diffuse a situation. Good God, it’s like I’m watching an action movie. A pre-Katie Holmes, Top Gun era Tom Cruise action film.” Adam slow claps as if he’s watching a stage play, and Pedro gives him a dirty look until he stops.

Samantha lowers her sign, and it looks like she’s trying to explain something to him. I see lots of hand gestures;

her face contorts into a bevy of emotions from unhappy to angry and finally to sad, if not disgusted. Noah looks at her sympathetically. He keeps listening, and then in the middle of her big speech, he puts his hand on her shoulder and starts talking until he finally says something that makes her eyes widen and she puts her hand over her mouth.

“Wait, what’s happening?” I squeak in disbelief as Samantha hands her sign to Noah and walks away from the crowd and away from the shop.

“Looks like Noah not only kicks ass in the kitchen, but also with women.” Pedro gets up, and to fill trays for our servers who are out there plying the crowd with enough sugar and chocolate to keep them hyped up until the 9 a.m. show.

“She just gave up after a five-minute protest? That’s so sad. I expected so much more from her. She had no determination. She didn’t even come up with a clever chant,” I say.

“You’re nuts. You should be dancing a jig that the world didn’t see her, not being mad that she gave up her demonstration against you.” Adam pokes me in the head with a bobby pin.

“Ouch! You did that on purpose.”

“I was making a political statement.”

“Some Good Morning you are.”

Things are getting intense. I watch Tawny get her mic placed on the lapel of her shirt, and I spot Samantha on the sidewalk across the street talking on her cell phone with a very serious look on her face. I wonder who else Valentina has recruited to run me out of town?

Samantha walks away and I keep my eye on her until she blends into the crowd and I can’t see her anymore. But I know she’s still out there.

“Alright, sweetie, you need to go and meet up with Tawny. She’s going to run you through the show!” Adam pulls out a mirror to show me the gorgeous detailed French braid he did for me. I look chic and sexy, and a lot more professional and girly than I did two hours ago.

“No sex hair?”

“I think sex hair is the least of your worries. Plus, you’ve got these great big eyes the color of espresso. Let’s show them off. Just promise me you will never use the double braid look unless you’re Pocahontas for Halloween or in the middle of some school girl role playing game.”

“That’s very inappropriate, Adam.” I swat him on the butt and he whoops loudly.

“That’s me.” Adam flips his imaginary hair back. “Mr. Inappropriate!”

“Indira, we are on in ten! Stop puttering,” Pedro screams from the kitchen.

“That guy needs a spa treatment. Badly.” Adam says as I flee into the crowd and the cameras.

***

“Good morning, Los Angeles!” 

Tawny Kelley flashes the crowd a dimpled grin and the mob of hundreds of neighbors and business owners erupts into cheering as the cameraman pans the street to get the full image of everyone filling the streets.

“Welcome to Long Beach’s Retro Row. Today we are lucky enough to be taping live at Cake Pan, a sweet bakery that makes some of the best comfort classics on this side of the Pacific Ocean. Even though they started out as a Long Beach spot, Cake Pan is quickly becoming the talk of LA’s bridal scene thanks to their funky ideas that are handcrafted for each bride’s personality. No cookie-cutter wedding cakes and dessert bars from these bakers. Let’s welcome Indira Aguilar and Pedro Sanchez who are going to walk us through what it takes to create a dessert bar for your next event!”

As Tawny makes her way toward us, I take a minute to reach for Pedro’s hand underneath the table and give it a squeeze. We both beam at one another.

Here we go…

Chapter 15

“How do you get the butter to permeate the crust like that? I feel like I’m eating a stick of butter covered in chocolate and vanilla bean.”

“It’s called, a pound of butter. So in a way, you’re kind of right.” I watch as Tawny Kelley eats another mini chocolate almond cake, and I worry about the impending comedown of her manic sugar rush.

“They’re so tiny it makes me feel less guilty.”

“That’s the trick,” I say wryly.

Tawny gives me a Cheshire cat smile and skips back to her cameraman, who is loading the van to take her back to the studio. The entire morning is a blur, I don’t remember much after the introduction. All I know is it was fun. I demonstrated how to create a multi-tiered cake stand with different mini cakes without tripping over anything. And Pedro charmed the crowd with his good looks and ability to flip a freshly made crepe in a cast iron skillet with one strong hand.

We were a hit.

“What are you daydreaming about?”

Noah and I haven’t had a chance to talk. We were all so busy the last few hours, but he stuck around to help clean up, which I’m eternally grateful for, and I know I can’t avoid him much longer.

“I’m thinking about cake. Big, multilayered cakes that are squeezed in between more layers of buttercream or chocolate ganache.”

“How can you still be thinking about cake? I’ve had enough cake today to last me the week, if not more.”

“How dare you?” I tease, smiling up at him and relishing how he looks in his black and white server outfit. It has been unbuttoned so I can see his t-shirt underneath, sporting a picture of Dolly Parton on it.

“I think it went well, don’t you?” Noah takes a look around the shop, the camera crew gone and neighbors still standing out front.

“It went better than well. Thanks for your help. With everything…including Samantha Tate.” I cough nervously and look away not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“Wait. First things first,” Noah interrupts. “Josh told me last night about the wedding, and I want you to know that I didn’t know he was gunning for the job. I thought he just wanted into the wedding. I would never be involved in something like this. It’s not my style.”

“Josh gets what he wants, when he wants it. Best for you to know that about him.”

“I think he felt really slighted that they went with Cake Pan over the hotel. He seemed to take it really personally. So, did you lose the job?”

“No, we are working together. You, me, Josh and Pedro. Should be super cozy,” I say sarcastically.

“As for Samantha Tate, you owe me a drink. You promised you would introduce me to your favorite bar. The one that makes the best fish tacos. I’m cashing in on that promise tonight. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Don’t you want to talk about, uh,
it
, now?” I trail off, feeling embarrassed.

“Why?”

“Maybe you won’t want to hang out with me,” I say meekly, realizing how mortified I really am about this whole fiasco.

“We can talk about it later, after we’ve had enough fun for you to not worry about this shit anymore because, Indira, you have to know…I already knew.”

“You mean previous to this morning?” I ask dumbly. “Of course. It’s a small town and people love to gossip. They certainly love talking about you. Everyone at the hotel talks about your great love affair with Josh as if it was a scene from
Gone with the Wind
.”

“And, you still want to go out…with me?”

“Frankly, my dear...”

“That’s awful.”

“Come on, it was punny, you love it. Promise you’ll come out and just have a drink, eat fish tacos, and you can tell me your tragic love story. Everybody has one.”

I take a deep breath and look into Noah’s hazel eyes. The hints of yellow look like bits of edible gold flakes that I shake onto cupcakes. Maybe I can have a different life? A different version of the one I’ve been living the last few years.

***

Coral Reef isn’t just a beach dive bar. It’s an institution.

It’s a bar where memories are made and forgotten all in one night. There’s sand on the floor that ends up in your bed no matter how much you dust off your clothes when you get home. There’s plastic mermaids on the wall, seashells used as tea light holders, and a jukebox that has just the right amount of balance between Air Supply and Madonna.

There’s also Russell, the ornery bar owner and retired fisherman, who gets his buddies together once a month to create the biggest fish taco night in the parking lot of Coral Reef with bottomless margaritas and picnic tables set up for a perfect ocean view dinner.

“I can’t believe you get to have this every month.” Noah takes a bite of the mahi-mahi taco that’s covered in fresh slices of avocado and a tangy pico de gallo. “The owner is a fisherman? Is that why the tacos taste like he just plucked them from the ocean?”