Seduction and Snacks (9 page)

I knew I was full of shit trying to convince myself that maybe it wasn't him. But having Liz confirm it made me feel like a dumb ass.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did you see his eyes? God, those were Gavin's eyes. They were that same weird blue-grey color with a black outline. What the fuck am I going to do?" I asked in a panic.

"TEN!"

"Gavin, four comes after three," Liz yelled to him while I tried not to throw up on the floor.

"That's boring," he announced.

"Come on, let me give you the tour before he starts showing his penis to all the people walking by and gets an indecent exposure ticket before the ink is dry on this place," Liz said as she grabbed my hand. "You're going to stop worrying about this right now and just enjoy taking a look at your dreams coming true. We'll worry about blue-eyes later."

***

I was still in shock and awe mode as I drove us home two hours later. Gavin fell asleep as soon as the car started, so I didn't have any nonsense chatter about wieners and nuts coming from the backseat to break up my thoughts. The kitchen at the store was much nicer than I remembered from the years I spent stopping in there for a cup of coffee and a muffin, and it was stocked with supplies I only dreamed of using, let alone owning. There was an industrial-sized, two-door reach-in freezer with a matching three-door reach-in-fridge, a heavy-duty electric range with six burners, two Cyclone convection ovens, a holding cabinet that could keep sixteen trays of chocolates cool, a refrigerated bakery case that was right below the front counter and two copper kettles to melt chocolate, caramel or pretty much anything I needed. Right in the middle of the room was a four-foot by six-foot island with a cooling marble countertop - perfect for making candy. In all the time I’d patronized Andrea’s Bakery, I always loved the open floor-plan. I loved how when you were at the counter paying you could see into the kitchen and watch someone making cakes or pies.

It was too much and I told Liz that as I walked around the kitchen, letting my hand trail over all of the equipment. She tried to tell me that the previous owners recently upgraded everything so all of the stuff in the kitchen came with the space, but I knew she was lying. I’d been in Andrea’s Bakery not that long ago and spoke with the manager. I knew for a fact they didn’t upgrade. Plus, Liz could never look me in the eyes when she lied and she swore twice as much.

"Liz, this is too much. I can't let you do this."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Claire. This fucking shit came with the fucking place and the previous fucking owners just want to fucking get rid of it."

Liar liar, fucking pants on fucking fire.

Liz’s side of the store was just as nice, only without the amazeballs kitchen that my side had. She showed me where she wanted the wall to go that would separate the two spaces right down the middle, but not extend all the way to the front. She wanted enough room up by the windows for customers to walk back and forth between the two stores. It would provide just enough privacy in case my customers weren't too keen on looking at the dildos, lingerie and lube on Liz’s side and she said we could put a door back by my kitchen where the two of us could easily go back and forth without going to the main parts of the stores. The front of both of our sides had a counter where a cash register would go. Liz’s side had display tables littered throughout the front so she could display the items she would have for sale. Mine was left empty right now, so I could possibly add some tables for people to sit down in the future. I realized she made changes to the place long before she clued me in, knowing full well I wouldn’t be able to turn it down once I saw the hard work she put in to it. Where my side was wide open so when you were standing in front, you could see the entire kitchen in the back, Liz’s side had a wall right behind the front counter since the only thing in the back of her store would be inventory. She’d thought of everything and I was completely amazed at all she’d done in such a short amount of time.

While Gavin ran amok, we sat down on the floor with all of the paperwork strewn around us. We were knee deep in zoning permits, sales tax licenses, business plans, insurance policies and a hundred other different forms that made my head spin. This dream was so close I could touch it, but the fear of not being able to afford it had me biting my fingernails down to stubs. I could take up extra shifts at Fosters to save some more money and of course there was the additional income I would get from suffering through a bunch of Liz’s sex toy parties, but it still wouldn’t be enough to swing the rent and I refused to let Liz invest any more of her money for me. Liz called my father before I could protest and he met us up at the shop to take a look around.

“So, what do you think?” I asked him as he opened up the fuse box and took a look inside.

“Wiring is good. The kitchen is on a separate circuit from the security system,” he replied.

“That’s not what I mean.”

I wanted him to knock some sense in to me like he was famous for. Tell me I was insane for thinking I could do something like this; call me an asshole for having my head in the clouds.

My dad closed the fuse box and turned around to stare up at the ceiling.

“You know how when you were in college I was paying your room and board every month?” he asked as he checked out all of the light fixtures. “Well, for the past five years, I’ve been putting that money into a savings account every month just in case you needed it one day. With the interest it’s earned, it’s a little over fifty thousand right now.”

My mouth dropped open in shock and Liz, who was standing close by and not even trying to pretend that she wasn’t eavesdropping, started squealing loud enough to break the sound barrier. She jumped up and down and flung her arms around my dad while I stood there trying to process what he’d just told me.

“Mr. Morgan, if you weren’t my best friend’s father I would totally hump your leg right now,” Liz told him excitedly.

“There’s a…I have…my dog’s at the vet,” my dad stuttered awkwardly as he pulled himself away from Liz and walked out of the store.

“You’re dad doesn’t have a dog,” Liz stated as the bell over the door jingled with his departure.

“Nope. Your dry humping threats have finally made him go insane.”

It took another hour for Liz to convince me that it wasn’t selfish to take the money my dad offered. It was money he put away for me to do with as I wished, so why shouldn’t I use it to start up the business I’ve always dreamed of? With money worries out of the way for the time being, Liz asked me to make up a tray of items to take to the party she booked me to do tomorrow afternoon. Jenny, a friend of her cousin, was having it and she was a computer designer. She offered to help Liz with brochures and flyers and things like that. Liz let her know I would be doing her party and that I would need help creating something to advertise my store as well. She agreed to help us out as long as she got to test out some free samples. I'd let her sample my vagina if she did this for me.

After the party, I was going to head over to Liz and Jim’s house for dinner and some wine so we could talk more and come up with names for our business.

Our
business. I repeated those words over and over to myself as I drove home from the store, trying to make it sink in. It was all happening so fast. Just two days ago the idea of owning my own business was a pipe dream that I figured was years and years away from ever happening.

I pulled into my driveway and quietly unbuckled a sleeping Gavin so I could take him in the house and lay him down. As I lifted him out of his car seat and held his head to my shoulder, he wrapped his arms around my neck and squeezed.

"You hafta mow the lawn wiffa snake marshmallow," he mumbled sleepily. "I slipped on a penny."

I let out a chuckle at my son's sleep-talking habits as I walked into the house and got him situated in his bed.

I wonder if
he
talks in his sleep too.

Liz sufficiently took my mind off of Gavin’s father all morning, but now that I was alone with my thoughts, his reappearance in my life screamed through my head and it was all I could think about. For all I knew, he could have been passing through town and I'll never see or hear from him again. He was too drunk to remember me the first time we met, and obviously history was repeating itself. He had no clue who I was last night.

I refused to admit it stung a little that I hadn't made any kind of impact on him almost five years ago, when I had to live with a reminder of him every single day.

She rested her elbows against the bar and leaned closer to me. I was mesmerized by her eyes. They looked like pools of Hershey's chocolate syrup. It was her. All these years and I could finally see her face. She was just as stunning as I remembered.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," I said.

She laughed and goose bumps rose on my arms. I remember that laugh; it was like music to my ears. She reached across the top of the bar and ran her hand down my arm and rested it on top of my own.

"Do your shot glasses usually talk to you?" she asked with a smile.

"Wait, you're the girl from the bar," I said in confusion.

"Am I?" she asked with a smirk.

She leaned completely across the top of the bar and pressed her cheek to mine, her lips close to my ear.

"Ask me what my favorite movie is," she whispered.

I turned my head and slid my nose against her cheek. She still smelled like chocolate. But that didn't make sense. Someone started knocking on the door to the bar and she pulled away and whipped her head around in that direction. She started backing up as the banging continued.

"Wait! Don't go. Just tell me your name," I pleaded.

She kept backing away and I stared at her face, memorizing every single detail: brown eyes, thick chestnut hair, full-heart-shaped lips, and a dimple on each cheek.

That's what the girl from the bar looked like. But this one had the same eyes and the same voice as MY girl. What the hell is going on?

"Please, tell me your name!" I yelled after her.

I jerked awake to the sound of banging and my heart pounding like I just ran a marathon. I slid my hand through my hair and flopped back down, trying to remember what I had just been dreaming about. It was right there at the edge of my consciousness but I just couldn't grasp onto it. There was something I needed to remember about that dream. I closed my eyes and tried to bring it back. The silence lasted for two seconds before the pounding against my front door started again and interrupted my thoughts.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I screamed at the incessant banging, irritated that I couldn’t make myself remember.

Oh, sweet Jesus, I am never drinking again.

I have the weirdest dreams every fucking time I drink. Why the hell can't I remember this one? I picked up a pillow from next to me and hugged it against my ears, trying to muffle the sound of my door being kicked in.

"Open the door, goat-fucker!" Drew’s muffled yell shouted as he continued to pound his fist against my front door. I know if I don't get up, he'll keep making noise and then I'd have to kill him.

The banging continued as I sat up, threw the covers off angrily and stumbled through the rental house with my eyes closed. I still had boxes of shit all over the place that I had yet to unpack and I kicked them angrily out of the way as I went. I made it to the front door without breaking any limbs and flung it open with an angry growl.

"Holy shit, dude, you don't look so hot," Drew said as he shouldered his way past me and into my house, wearing one of his signature t-shirts. I swear this guy owned at least two-hundred-and-fifty of these things. Today's shirt said "I pooped today".

"Sure, come on in Drew," I muttered to myself as I slammed the door shut and followed him to the living room. "You totally interrupted a good dream I was having. At least I think it was a good dream, I can't remember."

"Were you dreaming about the hot bartender you couldn't stop drooling over last night?" he asked with a laugh.

"Funny," I deadpanned as I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms in front of me.

"If only I were kidding, dude. Her friend with the blonde hair asked me if you rode the short bus to the bar after you picked up your beer and poured it down the front of your shirt instead of your mouth—which was wide open staring at the bartender's ass.

Wow, definitely not one of my better nights.

"Maybe I should go up there and apologize to…."

Shit, I was drawing a blank.

"Yet another girl whose name you didn't get." Drew finished. "At least this time we know where she works. This place is a fucking mess," he said as he shoved boxes away with his foot so he could make his way over to the couch.

"Did you just come over here to insult me, or is there a reason for this early morning visit?"

"Early? It's twelve-thirty, dumb ass. We've got orientation at one," he said as he slid a box of books over and flopped down on the couch.