Heartbreak Cake (16 page)

Josh came a bit closer to me and looked like he was about to say something as he touched my right shoulder.

“Indira,” Simon bellowed from his office. “Finish up and get the hell in here so we can go over tomorrow’s budget. I would like to go home at some point.”

I didn’t make a move, hoping Josh would say what was on his mind before Simon interrupted us.

“Have a good night,” he said quickly instead, and bowed his head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

***

“So what do you think?” I finally say after catching Simon up on my tale of woe. He has stayed unusually quiet, only butting in twice to call Josh a
tosser.

“What do I think? Chicken, I think you’re royally fucked.”

“Now you’re just stating the obvious, Simon. I need help. My business and reputation are on the line.”

“You slept with her husband. There’s not much you can do to fix this. Not quickly.”

“That’s not what I wanted to hear from you,” I say honestly.

“I know, but it’s the truth. I’m not going to sugar coat this. You really messed up. And I don’t think I or anyone else can help you.

“I’m going to hang up. I thought you’d be more understanding,” I say tersely, tired of having to defend myself.

“Wait a minute, don’t get huffy. Listen, just focus on what is good in your life and it will eventually smooth out. Someday, I promise.”

“This could take years, Simon!”

“It could, but you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar and there’s no recovering from this. You are in the wrong. Biblically, socially, morally, and all of the above.”

“I know it.” I run my hands through my hair. “You know how unfair it can feel when no one cares about your side.”

“You know I do.”

“How did you handle it?”

“I sold my restaurant, moved to America and spent five years rebuilding my reputation and dodging the press. And guess what,” Simon continues on before I can answer. “I still get people asking me if I’m that chef that got caught having an affair with his business partner’s wife. No one cares that he was sleeping with half of the female staff or that I actually was in love with her. People don’t care about the details. They just care about the titillating gossip.”

“I know, I keep trying to explain myself, and no one cares.”

“Stop explaining yourself. There’s nothing to say here, Chicken. And as I said years ago, Josh is probably going to get away with this.”

“Don’t you dare say I told you so, Simon.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. But you know I did.”

“Simon!”

“Sorry, I can’t help it. It’s just so rare that I’m one hundred percent right. My prediction was flawless.”

I knew I wouldn’t be able to escape his,
I told you so
. Parked across the street from the shop, and I can see the bakery getting crowded, and I look at my watch. 11:45. It’s the early lunch crowd, and even though I can’t hear it, I know the doorbell jingles each time it’s opened. During busy times, it can feel like we are being frantically summoned, but for the most part, we love the sound of people coming to visit us.

It’s been a year since we opened, and it feels like we are just getting to know the heartbeat of our neighborhood. Fine tuning our coffee beans, adding tea or including a flavored-coffee roast, adding more savory tarts and quiches so locals can drop in for lunch. I love looking out from behind the cash register and seeing everyone enjoying themselves. It’s more than a bakery. It’s our home.

“I have to save the shop.” I cut off Simon who is going on and on about Josh, and how he’d like to kick his arse.

“Why in the world do you think you’re going to lose the shop?”

“We just lost our big account to Crystal Cove. To Josh and his perfectly pressed suits,” I shriek.

“You need to calm down, take a big breath, and let me ask you something, Chicken,” Simon says carefully. “Sounds to me that you’ve been given a challenge, and true to chicken form, you’re wimping out instead of going in there with Pedro and kicking ass. Don’t you think you can overcome this? Or are you ready to pack up your knives and go?”

I bite my nails, hesitant to admit to Simon that I don’t want to go up against Josh or the prestige of Crystal Cove.

“Hello? Did I lose the call? Goddamn cell phones, they never bloody work,” he grumbles.

“I’m here, I’m here. Just thinking,” I trail off. “What if we fail?”

“You won’t. This woman, Stephanie, she knows that you won’t fail. It’s why she has told you to go ahead and create the dessert table that you want. She’s giving you the opportunity to take the spotlight away from The Cove. So do it.”

“You think?”

It was a prospect I had never even considered, but seems to make sense. She gets the money, and I get creative freedom to do and make whatever I want. If we do it right, maybe we can trump Crystal Cove. I smile, thinking of the one recipe they would never be able to get their hands on.

“Simon, you’re brilliant!”

“I know. It’s nice to finally hear you admit it.”

“How do you always know what to say to rally the troops, Chef?” I ask, tearfully.

“Good lord, are you crying? I can hear you across the pond here sniffling like a girl.”

“Sorry, Chef.”

“Now, get back to work. I’ll nose around and see if I can get any dirt on Valentina that can help you get her off your back.”

“Have you heard anything on her?” I say, my interest suddenly piqued.

“There’s been some chatter, but wait to hear from me. Could be nothing.”

“Alright,” I sigh.

“In the meantime, go kick Crystal Cove’s ass. You know you can.”

Chapter 14

The front of the shop is swarming with the crew from
Good Morning Los Angeles
and locals excitedly huddle with their coffees to watch them set up and wave at the camera when it’s swung in their direction.

It’s not often we get a slice of Hollywood out here, so seeing a live television shoot happen right on 4th Street is enough to make everyone in town giddy.

I’m seated in one of our bistro chairs inside the bakery waiting for someone from hair and makeup to show up and make me camera ready. I face the window that overlooks the front of the shop so I have a perfect view of all the hustle happening.

Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes for a minute, it’s 7 a.m., but I’ve already been at work for four hours, and I still have a long, long day ahead of me. I hear a loud rap at my door and open my eyes to find a gorgeous blue-eyed, brown-haired man with razor sharp cheekbones. He’s wearing what looks to be a tool belt, but instead of hammers and screwdrivers, the pockets hold an oversized makeup brush, a portable flat iron and a mini blow dryer.

“Hi, I’m Indira.”

“I’m Adam, hair and makeup extraordinaire at your service. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Adam makes one complete circle around me, eyeing me up and down, and then stops.

“So let me ask you, did you think doing this to your hair was a good idea?” he clucks at me like an annoyed mother, and I self-consciously touch my hair.

“What’s wrong with braids?”

“Honey, are you twelve? I think an appropriate bun or chignon is more your age bracket, am I right, Miss Mid- thirties?” Adam lowers his voice and gives me a knowing stare.

“Does your producer know you speak to your guests like this?”

“It’s why they hired me. Trust me, Rachel Ray got the smack down from me, too. She tried to wear green eyeliner on the show. Green freaking eyeliner. It was a disaster.” He shakes his head with disgust at the memory and unleashes my braids. He stands back and gives me a long stare, drumming his fingers on his chin.

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad!” I snap. “Believe me, I do alright.”

“Of course you do.” Adam pats my shoulder and gives me a sad look. “Don’t worry brown eyes. I’m going to make you look positively beautiful for television. So much so, that that cute waiter over by the dessert bar outside, the one who keeps looking over here when he thinks you aren’t looking, he’s going to snatch you right up.”

That cute waiter Adam is talking about happens to be Noah. He’s already been through hair and makeup and he’s now waiting by the dessert table wearing a black apron and bow tie while handing out hot pink mini doughnuts.

“That waiter happens to be an award-winning chef. He’s just being a good sport and helping me out,” I say to Adam, who ignores me and appears to be deep in the hair zone.

Noah knocked at the front door of the shop at 3 a.m., just like I’d asked him to, and he didn’t seem very surprised when he saw the note I had left for him, just in case he had the nerve to show up.

Which he did.

Gone Fishing for a new job since you and Josh took the one we had.

Maybe it was the fact that the marine layer was thicker than usual this morning and he wasn’t wearing a jacket that made me feel sorry for him. But really I think it was Pedro reminding me that we desperately needed the extra hands to roll out mini croissants.

Death by rolling pin seems to trump my bruised ego.

I unlocked the door and handed him an apron and a cup of coffee and he wordlessly made a beeline toward Pedro who rattled off instructions. We all settled into the quiet of early morning. Small talk consisted of the virtue of French butter versus American, but mostly we just listened to classic rock.

He fits right in with us, I think to myself, as I watch him laugh companionably with the host of the show, Tawny Kelly, a busty blonde who looks like a former dancer for 1980s hair band videos. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her roll around on the hood of a Camero in a White Snake video.

“He’s nice.” Pedro Comes up behind me as Adam shoves a fistful of bobby pins in his mouth and starts pinning my hair back.

“Who?” I pretend to scan the news briefs in the
Long Beach Gazette
.

“I saw you ogling him.” Pedro gives me a smirk.

“I don’t ogle. I like to think of it as, I visually enjoy.”

“Looked like ogling to me.” Pedro shrugs. “I like him.

Did you see how he just cranked out those mini croissants and then went right on to the plum gallettes like it was nothing?”

“We don’t know him. You just like that he can match your speed in the kitchen.”

“That’s saying a lot. He has earned my respect, which is more than I can say for Josh.”

“Alright, alright, let’s not even go there.”

“Fine, I just think you should give this guy a chance. What’s the problem?”

Pedro is a linear thinker when it comes to matters of the heart. He approaches it the same way he works. Scientifically. Proper measurements, keep your station clean, and most importantly, no fucking around in the kitchen.

“What’s the problem? I’m a mess, my life is a mess, and I’m trying to save our business from becoming a mess.”

I swat at Adam who is now telling me to bend over and shake my hair to create a “sex head” look.

Seriously? This is morning television.

“Your life is not a mess. It’s in a good place. We are about to be on television, and we are still part of LA’s biggest wedding of the year, even if Crystal Cove is the big name in all this, that’s okay. I’m not worried, and neither should you be. We always outshine them, and Josh knows it. I think the real problem here is you’re still worried about what he thinks of you. But I promise you, he will respect you if you stand up to him and show him what you can do. And that goes for professionally and personally.”

“Simon said the same thing.”

“Of course he did. He loves nothing more than getting into the ring for a good fight. You used to love that, too. You’re just scared to fight Josh.”