Chapter 37

Kendall

“Judas…!”

I spun around to face the otherwise quiet bakery to find a diminutive creature poking a trembling finger in the air, and that’s when it hit me. I gasped, then grabbed my phone out of my pocket, seeing all the missed calls and texts.

“Oh god, Barbie—”

“Don’t ‘oh god, Barbie, me!’” my best friend said in a theatrically outraged voice. “We were supposed to meet at a bar. I was going to introduce you to some of Alan’s colleagues. This new guy from England is really nice and…” Her eyes narrowed, then her head jerked forward, looking for all intents and purposes like a hunting dog that had caught scent of prey. “Holy shit!” The old ducks sitting enjoying a pot of tea looked up in alarm at Barbie’s shriek. “You—”

I was well used to moving quickly and slapping my hand over my bestie’s mouth. Shit just came out sometimes, often at top volume

“You need to use your damn inside voice,” I hissed at her as she tried to say her piece, the words just coming out as muffled grunts. “If I take my hand away, are you going to say anything that will force me to kick you out of the bakery?”

“Would you kick me out for saying you got gang banged by three guys last night?”

She said that in a low undertone, but I still flicked my eyes around to check if anyone had heard.

“What the hell—?”

“You did.” Her voice became a theatrical stage whisper, and the finger was back, giving me the point of shame, right before her whole face lit up. “You did!” She jumped up and down, clapping her hands together like a small child. “Oh my god, girl, way to break a drought. Like gargle, gargle, gargle…” Her voice was getting louder, and she mimicked a woman struggling to keep her head above water. “You are drowning in it. You—!”

I have no idea how we looked, but I slapped my hand back, glaring at her meaningfully.

“Don’t say it. Don’t bloody say it.”

“Had sex—”

I peeled my fingers away just a tiny bit and her words came rushing out.

“Barbie, get some damn chill, will ya?”

“With three guys!”

Her voice was thin and so high, maybe only dogs heard it. Nope, the old biddies in the corner looked up, sensing a drama. That was further exacerbated when Barbie did a victory lap around the bakery, holding her hand out for them to slap, which they obliged, if utterly confused by her carry on.

“Are you done?” I asked when my best friend returned.

“Are you?” She cocked a hip and shot me a salacious smile. “You can’t be because, damn me, not one hottie but three!”

“Kendall.” Chris burst out of the kitchen looking harried, which had me trying to recall what the staff manual said about polyamorous relationships. Oh, that was right, there was no manual. “Look, love, I’m gonna need a hand in the back. Mrs. Hutchins just rang and she’s changed the ‘decor’ of her son’s party.”

“For the birthday cake she’s picking up…” I looked up at the clock on the wall and winced. “In two hours.”

“I know.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “If the woman didn’t send so much business our way, I woulda told her to get bent, but she has us cater every single one of her many parties, so I need to make the necessary changes. But there’s the baby quiches and mini-sausage rolls she ordered, plus the sandwiches—”

“I could do it.”

Where the hell had that come from? I looked around, realising Barbie hadn’t said that, but me.

Shit.

Chris looked at me now with way too much hope, making me regret all of my many life decisions.

“You could? I didn’t realise you had cake decorating skills, love. You know it’s not just slathering a cake with icing and then plonking some decorations on.”

“You want the crumb layer checked after the existing fondant is removed, then if it’s intact, you want a new layer of fondant rolled out and smoothed over the cake. Some piping of some decorative elements that suits the new theme, which is what, exactly?” I asked.

Chris stared openly.

“Spider-Man…”

“So maybe some icing using a thin nozzle, create some spiderweb like decorations on the sides. Are we going with red or black fondant?”

“Red…” he replied.

“Well, that at least makes things easier. We had The Flash as the previous design, so rolling red fondant over a cake that already had red icing on it is less problematic than trying a new colour.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s it. So you can take care of the cake—?”

“While you sort the party food?” My heart started to rattle in my chest, and I felt a curious kind of restless energy in my veins. The same kind that had me wanting to race out the door this morning, but when I’d had a coffee with Van, something had changed. Maybe I could rush towards something good, rather than away from it? “But what about the front counter?”

Both of us turned around to see Barbie standing there.

“Me?” She fluttered her eyelashes prettily. “Well, it’s been a while since I worked a register, but I think I can do it if you can.”

Her smile softened as she stared into my eyes, her eyes searching my face for an answer.

“Yeah…” I sucked in a breath, hoping like hell I wasn’t too rusty with a piping bag. “I think I can.”

But only just.

Getting the old fondant off and tossing it into the compost bin was one thing, but rolling out more was another.

Especially when Chris was keeping a not so secret eye on me. He had more than enough work to keep him busy, but he couldn’t help but try to surreptitiously supervise me. Mrs Hutchins was exacting in her demands and wouldn’t hesitate to refuse to pay for the cake if it wasn’t up to her standards. That weighed heavily on my mind as I rolled the thick icing out.

Too thin at first, I could see the light shining through the layer as I picked it up. Chris shook his head slightly, then went back to work as I kneaded it back into a ball and then started again. Thick enough to cover the cake in a smooth, uniform finish, it’d provide the perfect canvas for my pipework, so I rolled it out, that sixth sense coming back to me. Sure enough, when I picked it up, it was perfect.

Then there was the matter of smoothing it over the cake. At first it fell in a messy drape but I repositioned it and used the back of a spoon to smooth it into place. Down the sides, across the top of the bottom layer, and then to finish the sides of the base, I finally cut the remainder of the icing away and dumped it into a bucket.

“So you do know what you’re doing.” I jumped when I found Chris standing behind me. He was eyeing the cake, moving the turntable to check each side, and he finally nodded. “You never said you had experience in baking.”

“I couldn’t…” A lump filled my throat, but I swallowed it down, remembering Finn being put on his arse before I smiled at my boss. “I couldn’t before, but I can now.”

“OK.” He didn’t have time to work out what the hell I meant by that, turning back to the massive tray he was about to put in the oven. “Let’s see how you handle a piping bag.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got a bit of time. You’ll be able to redo things if you need to.”

So no pressure. I nodded and then went into the cool room to retrieve the bowls of buttercream.

Piping bags used to seem like magic to me when I was a kid. The way each nozzle could be used to extrude sugar into more and more intricate shapes transfixed me. That and all the reality TV shows about cake making had me well and truly hooked when my maternal grandmother showed me how to pipe icing. My first few attempts were bloody terrible. Learning how to apply the right amount of pressure consistently and to perform the necessary movements to create graceful loops of icing was something that took practise, but I had mastered it. I tried to remind myself of just that as I packed the bag now. Chris had his back turned towards me as he worked, cutting up a million sausage rolls and placed them on a tray, so I picked up the bag and then squeezed.

The stream came out steadily, forming a perfect net of sugary lines that together would represent Spider-Man’s webs. I was practising on a chopping board first, but as I went, I could see it. All across the cake, like little creepy banners, I’d turn the red fondant into a massive set of spiderwebs, perfect for additional decoration. Maybe some little spiders with red bums, representing both the venomous red backs of Australia and the radioactive spider that bit Peter Parker.

That made me snort. I knew wayyy too much about Marvel and DC superheroes, due to my brother forcing me to… I paused, easing off the pressure and pulling the piping bag up. Finn. He’d dominated the TV, making such a fuss when I put on things I liked watching that I’d retreated to the kitchen and Mum by default. I’d tried to ‘help’ initially, but as I got older, I learned. Finn was never interested in finding out how to make a cake or the perfect chocolate chip biscuit. I was free of his influence in the hot confines of the kitchen, and for everyone, this was a good thing. When I was cooking, peace ruled the house. He could screw around in the garden, but I…

I shook my head, staring at the cake in front of me, seeing all the imperfections, but that didn’t seem to stop me. I didn’t need perfection, just the feeling of a job well done. I thought of the little boy whose birthday cake this was, imagining his smile, right before I went to work.

Spiders climbed over all of the cake and I’d even added some web sprays, like the ones Spider-Man used, slung between sections of the cake. I added some decorative stars made of sugar to look like the campy explosions that happened in the old Batman reruns and then grabbed the cake topper. Mrs. Hutchins had thankfully provided us with an alternate to The Flash one, a cut out of Spidey attached to some long skewers to keep it upright. Then across one side in black writing, I’d included the boy’s name and happy birthday, something I was inspecting with a critical eye as Chris came over.

“Shit…” His tone had me looking around in alarm but his grin quickly allayed my fears. “That looks amazing! Jesus, Kendall, if I had any idea…” He stared at me openly. “Why haven’t you done a bakery apprenticeship? Obviously it takes more than just prettifying a cake, but you look like you have some skills. I could take you on as an apprentice—”

“Maybe.”

I grinned far too wide, just wanting to bathe in his praise for a second. I knew it was mainly because I’d gotten him out of a jam, but still. It felt good to do this again, to have someone praise something I actually cared about, a feeling I carried with me as I carried the cake out the front.

“I’m so sorry about the last minute change,” the client said as I approached, carrying the cake so very carefully. “It was all The Flash this and The Flash that until a few days ago and then… Oh!” I watched Mrs. Hutchins’ every expression, catching the moment her mouth fell open and a pretty flush coloured her cheeks. “Oh, that is so well done!” My cheeks flamed bright red as I moved to set the cake down. “Chris, you outdid yourself!”

“Probably because Kendall did the decorating,” he replied. “I made the cakes and everything, but as I was too busy getting the rest of your order ready, Kendall took over the decorating. She did a damn good job if I say so myself.”

“Kendall?” Her eyes locked with mine, and then I saw something flicker to life there. “Oh, you’re wasted standing behind the counter if you have these kinds of skills! Do you have a card at all?”

“Not trying to poach my best worker, are you, Iris?” Chris asked her.

“No,” I said with a smile. “I don’t.”

“Well, you need to get on that. You are really very good.” She looked past me to my boss. “As are you, Chris, darling. Now, what do I owe you?”

Once we’d bundled all of her items into the back of her car safely, Chris turned to me once we got back into the bakery.

“You may as well finish up, love—”

“Yay!” Barbie tossed her apron on the front counter and then skipped over.

“You helped me out of a tight spot, so have an early mark,” Chris told me.

“And dinner. You’re coming to my place and giving me all the details.” Barbie’s hand wrapped around my biceps, just in case I was thinking of trying to make a run for it.

“Have a good one then, ladies.” Chris nodded to us before flipping the open sign. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kendall, and think about my offer. I can always find someone to serve customers, but a bakery apprentice? That’s something else again.”

“Did he just offer you a fucking apprenticeship?” Barbie squeaked the minute we got out the door. “Are you gonna become a baker? But you stopped cooking because the guys—”

“It’s a long story, Barbie,” I said with a sigh.

“I’ve got time, so c’mon! My place. Mexican takeaway and margaritas.”

“The last time I had Mexican I was down with food poisoning for days,” I replied before jingling the van keys. “And I need to drive.”

“Thai food then.”

A celebratory laksa? Yeah, I was down with that. I grinned and unlocked the van.