Kiss My Cupcake(8)

I’d invite you over for a little axe throwing to get out some of your latent aggression, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Maybe this will help your vibe.

~ your friendly neighborhood bar owner



“What a jerk!” I ball it up and toss it in the trash. I don’t have to wonder how he knew it was my SUV since I have a Buttercream and Booze magnetic decal stuck to the side panel.





chapter three





This Means War


Blaire



Two days later I arrive at the shop after nine in the morning. I’m meeting Paul, my cupcake truck business partner and friend. My goal had always been to set up a storefront, while Paul really enjoyed being on the move and networking in new areas. He wanted to travel, and I wanted a home base.

We made a deal that he gets to keep the cupcake truck and the rights to the business. Instead of buying me out completely, he’s agreed to continue to bake the cupcakes and I’ll continue to decorate them for both of us while I get Buttercream and Booze up and running. That way he doesn’t have to find someone else to partner up with, and neither of us has to hire someone to help.

I met Paul upon my return from Paris, while I was selling desserts in a booth at a local street market. Like me, Paul had his own cupcake and pastry booth, and we were right across from each other. Realizing that it would benefit us to work together—and save on booth rental costs—we ended up pooling our resources and our creativity. Having been on the street market circuit for a couple of years, Paul took me under his wing and showed me the ropes. He baked the cakes and I decorated them. We were a great team in the kitchen. Within a year we’d saved up enough to buy a food truck, and Cupcakes to Go! was born. At first Cupcakes to Go! was great and I loved having a partner. But Paul and I started butting heads since we both wanted to be in control of the business side, and by then I knew it was time to move on. It was always a temporary business venture, but it was a great learning experience.

This morning he’s stopping by so he can try my newest cupcake creation and we can decide if there need to be any adjustments to the cake flavor and texture. The Cupcakes to Go! truck is parked out front on the street when I pass. The back door to my shop is already propped open with a wedge, which is considerate. It means I don’t have to search my purse for my keys.

I’m busy juggling the cupcakes, my purse, and my travel mug, so I almost step in another pile of poop right in front of the door. “What the hell?” I grumble, looking around. Who would walk their dog in the back alley where there’s all kinds of garbage? And who would leave their freaking dog poop behind? Maybe whoever it is has some kind of beef with the previous storeowner. Or maybe they have something against buttercream icing and booze.

The possibility that I’ve already made potential enemies and I haven’t even opened my doors to the public unnerves me. I shake my head. I’m being paranoid. This isn’t the food truck business. No one is going to slash my tires here.

I sidestep the poop and set the cupcakes inside, out of harm’s way. This time I hunt down an old plastic bag immediately so I don’t forget about it and no one accidentally steps in it. I make a face as I crouch down to pick it up, expecting the noxious odors to hit me, but strangely enough all I get is the faint stench of garbage. I also expect it to be squishy and gross, but it’s unusually firm. Completely solid, in fact.

Once it’s safely in the bag I try to lob it into the dumpster, but my aim sucks and it hits the side with a low thud and thwang.

I frown, because dog poop should not make that kind of sound when it hits metal. I don’t know what gets into me, other than curiosity, but I open the bag and peek inside. Which is when I realize that it’s not real poop. It’s plastic.

I glance over at The Knight Cap and narrow my eyes. He must’ve seen me step in the poop the other day and this is his idea of being funny. “What a jerk.”

Paul pokes his head out the back door. “I thought I heard someone back here. What’s going on?”

I pull the fake poop out of the bag. “My neighbor is a turd, that’s what’s going on.”

Paul makes a face. “Is that…”

“It’s fake.” I stalk over to the service entrance of The Knight Cap. The door is propped open with a wooden wedge. The sound of a circular saw and the loud strains of rock music come from inside. I replace the wedge with the fake poop and as an afterthought, I take the wedge with me, because screw him.

“What was that all about?” Paul asks as I scoop up the box of cupcakes and he follows me down the hall.

“Apparently my new neighbor has the maturity of a twelve-year-old and thinks he’s a comedian.”

“Making friends already, huh?” Paul chuckles.

“Haha. As you can clearly hear, he’s not the quietest, most conscientious neighbor.” I set the Tupperware on the counter and wash my hands before I open it up to display my late-night endeavors.

“Oh, wow!” Paul wafts his hand over the container, inhaling deeply. “Is that maple? And bourbon? And bacon?”

“It is. Try one and tell me what you think. I’m not sure if the maple flavor is too overpowering in the icing.” I tap on the counter, trying to be patient while he peels the wrapper and takes a healthy bite of the cupcake.