Must Love Sandwiches (12 page)

Emma exhaled so hard a paper fluttered off the edge of the workbench. She smirked as she tapped her foot on the floor. “I guess I don’t need to worry about Max then. Brad said he could sic Beth, his ex, on Max. She sounds like a real head case. Hooking Max up with an obsessive psycho would be a rather fitting payback for lying about why he broke up with me.”

The microwave dinged. Daisy laughed as she went to retrieve her snack. She hadn’t seen Emma in such a good mood for a long time. “That sounds like the perfect way to get revenge on the worm.” She shook the heat-inflated bag. A cloud of butter-scented steam gave her a free facial when she broke the seal open. “But it looks to me like he’s already dealing with a Loony Town resident. Micah even talks in that weird, breathy way Marilyn Monroe used to. She is seriously strange.”

“Can you believe Max told me she thinks she’s the reincarnation of Marilyn?” Emma asked.

“Cool.” Daisy dragged a stool over so she could sit next to Emma while she continued to work. “No wonder he was begging to get back with you. There’s nothing like a big helping of crazy to make you realize how much you screwed up.”

Emma used a pair of tweezers to poke at the beads she had just attached to the iridescent door. They didn’t budge. That was some fast-drying glue. No wonder she glued her fingers together so much. Emma giggled and said, “You have to admit it would be kind of fun watching him deal with two crazy women. Beth was gorgeous. His ego would be so inflated if she started paying attention to him he wouldn’t know what kind of mess he’s in the middle of until it’s too late.”

Daisy coughed, then held up her index finger as she continued to chew a mouthful of popcorn. She washed the dry kernels down with a swig of cold coffee from her mug that was sitting on the nearby window sill. She had been hanging out with Emma all morning. It was nice to see her friend relaxed and joking around again. She returned the mug to its place in the sunny window and said, “Don’t make me laugh. I’ll choke to death on this popcorn. The revenge fantasies are fun, but I think you’re just talking about Max to avoid who we should really be talking about. Now that you know what was going on the other night, please tell me you’re not going to keep avoiding Brad.”

Emma stole a handful of popcorn out of the bag. She spun her ergonomic desk chair in circles as she asked, “How about we talk about you telling him we saw him with Beth? What part of me asking you not to say anything to him didn’t you understand?”

“The part where you were going to let a great guy get away because of a misunderstanding.”

Emma stomped her foot. The spinning chair jerked to a stop. “I think a payback is in order.” She tapped her index finger on her chin. “How about I tell Marshall you want to go out with him?”

“Ha! You lose. Too late, baby.” Daisy dumped the bag of popcorn over Emma’s head. She had been dying to tell her about Marshall. It might even shock her more than the fact that she was currently wearing a snack as a hair accessory. “I had lunch with him a few days ago. In his apartment. And we’re going out on a bona fide date tonight at that new barbecue place on the east side. Absolutely no tofu or mushrooms will be eaten by either one of us. Believe it or not, he’s not a vegan. He actually loves bacon as much as I do.”

Emma tied the black striped, cotton string into a bow to secure the tissue paper around the fairy door. She slid the parcel into a dark green gift bag. Normally she would attach a big, loopy ribbon bow to the bag’s handle, but fluffy bows weren’t manly. She glanced at the clock and grabbed the bag. Making the journey to the park before she had time to think about what she was doing was the key to not chickening out. She plucked her keys off the rack near the door and tucked a few dollars into her skirt pocket. The elevator seemed to descend to the lobby even slower than normal. She leaned against the back wall and closed her eyes. She should have taken the stairs. Finally she made it to the first floor lobby. The soles of her sandals squeaked on the polished tile floor. Bright sunshine poured through the windows, projecting slanted, golden blocks on the floor and merchandise in the gallery. When she emerged onto the sidewalk the gift bag danced in a warm breeze while the rising sun warmed her back.

It was mid-morning, but the food trucks would already be arriving at the park. Brad told her how they tried to get there early to claim one of the best positions. As she rounded the corner of the building she could see a rainbow-colored caravan of trucks lined up on the street ahead. The unmistakable navy blue of Brad’s truck was in the middle of the line, near the park’s fountain. In the heat of summer people clustered around the water feature, enjoying the cool mist produced by the small geyser spraying out of the top of the pyramid. The fountain was a group project, designed and constructed by the residents of the artists’ colony. The sides of the pyramid base were embedded with chunks of recycled glass and broken pottery donated by the residents. The colorful objects shimmered as the water cascaded over them, making a gurgling sound that mimicked a stream. Normally she would take a few minutes to stop and enjoy the colorful display and soothing sound, but she couldn’t stop.

The awning was still fastened down over the order window of The Sandwich Emporium. The muted voices of Brad and the other chefs seeped from the open window in the cab as she approached. She knocked on the metal door and then stepped back. Brad’s torso appeared in the door’s window. For a few seconds he looked annoyed at the interruption, then grinned when he caught sight of her.

“Hi there,” he said as he slid the door open. “We’re still working on getting everything prepped. It’s going to be awhile before I can make you anything, but you’re welcome to come in. We would love to have someone else to talk to. We’re tired of listening to each other.” Brad stepped backwards into the van’s kitchen and swept his arm sideways, gesturing for Emma to enter.

“Thanks.” She stepped into Brad’s realm. The interior of the truck smelled like grilled onions and chicken. A mountain of chopped, green herbs was piled on a cutting board in front of Geek. Now that she was face to face with him she realized his glasses and board-straight, messy hair did make him look like a bit of a nerd. Whale stood in front of the grill at the other end of the truck. He was almost as wide as the aisle down the middle of the mobile kitchen, so his nickname certainly fit, too. She offered the gift bag to Brad. “I brought you something. A little present to thank you for all of the delicious food you’ve been giving me.”

“Really?” Brad stripped off his latex gloves and took the bag. “You didn’t need to do that! I love surprises, though, so I hope you don’t mind if I rip the paper off right now.”

“Go for it. I want to see what you think of my creation.”

His eyes sparkled as he untied the string and tore apart the delicate paper. “It’s a fairy door.” He held it up for the other guys to see. “Look at this. It looks like a kitchen door. I love it.”

Emma pulled a tube of heavy-duty glue out of her pocket. “I thought you might like to put it somewhere on the truck, maybe near the real door. This glue is made to bond with metal and I put a water-proof sealant on the door, so it should hold up outside just fine. That is, if you want to put it on the truck.” She poked at the rubber mat that ran down the center of the cooking area, with her shoe. This was worse than being in the fourth grade and offering her crush a cookie at recess. She had once again turned self-conscious, a shy ugly duckling, even though she was wearing a lemon yellow dress with a full, floaty skirt and had paid special attention to tame her unwieldy hair by pinning it up with a jeweled barrette. On her walk to the park she had caught several lingering glances from other men as she passed by them, so she must not look quite as bad as she felt at the moment.

“Do you mind if I take a quick break?” Brad asked his co-workers. Whale shook his head and Geek shrugged as Brad turned his attention to her. “Did you bring some business cards with you?”

The question caught her off guard. “No. Why?”

“When the other food trucks and my customers spot this door I’m sure a lot of people will want one. You are a marketing genius.”

“I…I didn’t give it to you to drum up business for myself. When you saw it in my studio you said it looked like it belonged in a restaurant, so I thought you would like to have it. I didn’t do this to boost my sales.”

Brad held his hand up to stop her. “It’s okay. I realize it’s a gift and I love it. I just know others will love it too, so I want to help send some more business your way.” He squeezed past her, opened the door and offered his hand to help her down the steps. The brief physical contact took her breath away. She wanted, no, she needed more. Her libido took over and she barely heard him ask, “How about if anybody asks before you can get me some business cards to hand out, I just tell them to go to the colony’s gallery?”

He squatted next to the truck and held the miniature door in different spots. She stared at his back until the question sunk into her brain. She took a deep breath and said, “Thank you for helping me out. I appreciate it, but I meant the door as a peace offering and apology for being such a stuck up bitch lately. I was worried that I was heading down the same life path that my mother took. When I was a kid I was a miserable bystander, watching my mom’s endless parade of pathetic boyfriends. I was beginning to act just like her, so that’s why I refused to go out with you. Then I should’ve asked you what was going on with Beth, but instead I just assumed the worst.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. She couldn’t stop them any more than she could stop a flood after a week of rain. If only the words could wash away the mistakes she had made.

Brad propped the fairy door on the truck’s tire and stood up. He wiped his hands on his jeans as he turned to look at her. Emma fidgeted as he took a step closer. His warm breath brushed her cheek as he cupped his hand under her chin. When their lips met waves of shivers rocketed through her body, one after another, from her lips to her toes. He drew back and looked into her eyes. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m willing to wait while you work through those things, but eventually I want to go out with you, as your boyfriend, not business associate. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“I will,” Emma said. She slowly exhaled, releasing the breath that was threatening to burst her lungs. She started dating when she was sixteen. Over the past ten years she had never been kissed like that. “What would you think if I said I’m ready right now?”

The End

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About The Author

Janel Gradowski grew up, and still lives, in the mitten of Michigan. She is a wife and mother whose writing companion is a crazy Golden Retriever named Cooper. In the past she has worked many jobs. Renting apartments, scorekeeping for a stock car racetrack and selling newspaper classified advertisements are some of the experiences that continue to provide inspiration for her stories. Now she writes fiction and is also a beadwork designer and teacher. She enjoys cooking and is fueled by copious amounts of coffee. Her work has appeared in many publications, both online and in print. She is the author of two series. The Bartonville Series is women's fiction with recipes. Each volume will contain stories of various lengths, all set in Michigan. The 6:1 Series features collections of her stories that are based on the title's theme. You can connect with her in various ways.

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Bonus Stories

The next two stories are little bites of fiction that you can read during a coffee break or whenever you have few minutes to spare.

After Work

The bartender clunked the beer mug down in front of her. The liquid in it was so dark it looked black in the dim light. A witch’s brew for the witch of the Bartonville restaurant scene. Beth hissed when she grabbed the mug’s handle. She had forgotten about the burns. The flesh on her thumb and first three fingers was raw and blistered. The idiot owners of the cafe insisted boring, little molten chocolate cakes had to be on the menu every day even though she had many more impressive and innovative desserts in her repertoire. As she was plating the fifty-fourth one of the evening she had gotten careless, distracted by the delicious new waiter who was standing behind her, waiting for his dessert order. Usually she sliced a finger or two open when she wasn’t concentrating on a task. This time she grabbed a metal cake pan that had been in the oven five seconds earlier with her bare hand. Beth took a long drink, savoring the mixture of bitterness and slight sweetness in the chocolate stout. Maybe the alcohol would help dull some of the throbbing pain that was radiating from her scorched right hand and spreading up her arm.