Buttercream Bump Off (2 page)

“True,” Angie said. “Where would we channel all of our misdirected rage if we didn’t have Ginormica Cupcake?”

A horn blared, and they glanced up to see a silver Lexus pass by Olivia, who dropped her basket of flyers in surprise. The Lexus zoomed past, and Mel recognized the driver as Tate, their business partner. Before she could retrieve her basket, Olivia’s pink coupons were scattered by a blast of exhaust from a passing Escalade. The scene looked like an impromptu ticker tape parade.

Mel felt Angie nudge her as a motorcycle cop with his lights flashing pulled up alongside the giant cupcake. Over the roar of traffic it was impossible to hear the conversation, but judging by Olivia’s wild hand gestures and bobbing cherry hat, it wasn’t going her way.

Just then, Tate pulled up beside them and said, “ ‘What we’re dealing with here is a complete lack of respect for the law.’ ”

“Buford T. Justice,
Smokey and the Bandit
,” Mel said, identifying the line. “That’s such a man movie.”

“It’s a classic,” Tate said as he pushed open the passenger door.

Mel glanced up and saw Olivia pointing in their direction. The police officer was studying them over the top of his sunglasses.

“We can debate what constitutes a classic later,” Angie said and gave Mel a shove into the car. “Get in! Put the pedal to the metal, Bandit!”

Tate stepped on the gas, and they shot out into traffic. Mel and Angie smiled and waved as they passed Olivia while the officer scribbled a citation on his pad, tore it off, and handed it to Olivia with a flourish. She looked ready to spit sprinkles at them, and Mel sank back into her seat, clutching her latte with a smile.

“Well, that was worth waking up for,” she said.

Tate circled the block and parked in front of Fairy Tale Cupcakes.

He opened the car doors for Angie and Mel and said, “We should probably wait before we go get your cars.”

“Good idea,” Mel said. “I have to prep for my couples’ cooking class tonight anyway.”

“Ah, yes, your lead-up to Valentine’s Day,” he said. “How’s that going?”

“Five couples for four weekly nights of baking fun,” Mel said. “Other than the Bickersons, it’s going well.”

“Bickersons?” he asked.

“That’s what we call the Bakersons,” Angie said. “Neither one of them knows a pastry bag from a garbage bag, but they’ll fight to the death about it.”

“Some couples are like that,” Tate said.

Angie fished the keys to the shop out of her purse and led the way into the bakery.

Mel glanced at Tate out of the corner of her eye as she followed him into the shop. It had been three months since his fiancée had been murdered, and even though he had been duped into getting engaged to her—she had been a wily one—Mel wondered if the upcoming lovers’ holiday was making him wistful.

“Thank God I don’t have to buy anyone flowers or candy or even a card,” he said. He shuddered in his impeccably cut navy blue Armani suit. Well, that answered that.

Angie glanced at him with a small smile. “ ‘Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.’ ”

“The Wizard of Oz,”
Tate said, identifying the quote. “Nice.”

Angie bowed her head in acknowledgment before flicking on the overhead lights.

“For the record, my heart is not broken,” he protested. “Merely dented.”

Angie grinned at him, and Mel felt an anxiety butterfly flap its wings down in her belly. How could Tate not see that when Angie smiled at him her heart was in her eyes? She literally lit up from the inside. A beautiful girl to begin with, when she looked at Tate she was breathtaking.

Mel was torn between wanting to smack Tate into getting a clue and keeping him ignorant for the sake of their friendship. After all, what if Angie and Tate did get together? She’d be shut out of their coupledom. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

The three of them had met when they were in junior high school. Mel had been a chubby candy freak with no friends until she’d met Tate, who was the consummate geek with thick glasses, starched shirts, and a love of math. Along came Angie, the new kid, with her hot temper and knuckle-cracking ability, and their threesome was formed.

A mutual love of old movies and junk food sealed their friendship all of those years ago. And even now they still spent almost every weekend together watching old movies and eating Jujubes and Milk Duds. There was an ongoing contest between them to see who could stump the others with movie quotes. Mel couldn’t help but worry that if Angie and Tate became a couple, she’d be left out.

Tate pushed back his starched cuff and checked his slim Omega. “Gotta go. Big meeting with the shareholders. Call me if the giant cupcake causes any more trouble.”

“Will do,” Mel and Angie answered together.

Tate hugged each of them in turn and then left. The bells on the door handle jangled in his wake.

Mel and Angie exchanged a look, and Angie shook her head. “No, I’m not going to tell him how I feel.”

“But . . .”

“Change of subject please,” Angie said as she pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen beyond. “Like, when are you and Joe going to start playing cars and garages?”

“Playing what?” Mel followed her. Then it clicked. “Oh, I get it. What makes you think we haven’t?”

“Oh, please. If you and Joe had slept together, I’d know,” she said.

Mel couldn’t argue the point. Well, she could, but it would be futile. Angie had known her forever, and Joe was Angie’s older brother, the middle one of her seven older brothers, so she’d known him even longer. There was no hiding from Angie.

Mel had lusted after Joe DeLaura from the first time she clapped eyes on him when she was twelve and he was sixteen. And now, they were actually dating. Sometimes she had to pinch herself to believe it. But then, when she remembered they hadn’t progressed much past hand-holding, she began to fret.

“Change of subject please,” she said.

Angie gave her a knowing nod. “Fine. What are we baking tonight?”

“Kiss Me Cupcakes.”

“It sounds as if we could both use a batch of those. Describe please.”

Angie dropped her purse on the steel worktable and headed straight for the coffeepot. Mel talked while Angie started a fresh pot.

“It’s a mint chocolate chip cupcake with red-and-white swirled mint icing and a big Hershey’s Kiss planted in the middle.”

“Wrapper on or off?”

“On,” Mel said. “I like the silver foil as a decoration.”

“Agreed,” Angie said. “Oh, hey, one of our couples’ payments for class didn’t clear. I left the paperwork on your desk. Do you want me to talk to them?”

Mel considered her partner for a second. She didn’t think a shakedown from Angie would do anyone any good, so she said, “No, I’ll take care of it. But thanks.”

“Okay, then. Do I need to run to Smart and Final for any supplies?” Angie asked.

Mel checked the stock in the large plastic bins they kept along one wall of the kitchen. Flour, check. Sugar, check. Baking powder and soda, check. Then she poked her head into the large walk-in refrigerator. Butter, check. Eggs, check. And last, she looked in the pantry for the specialty items. Peppermint extract, check. Chocolate, in all shapes and sizes, check.

“No, I think we’re good,” she said. “I’m going to grab a shower. Give me fifteen, and we can get started.”

“You got it,” Angie said. “You do realize, though, that the overstuffed cupcake has issued a challenge that can’t be ignored.”

“Don’t you worry,” Mel said. “It won’t be. I promise.”

Mel pulled her pink bib apron over her head.
Fairy Tale Cupcakes
was scrawled in glittery script over the top, while the bottom half sported three roomy pockets. Angie wore a matching one. The aprons were as close to a uniform as they ventured.

The mint chocolate chip cupcakes had been baked and cooled, and it was now time for the icing. Mel had mixed two batches of peppermint icing, one white and one red. She and Angie then worked in tandem, icing the tops of the cupcakes to look like round peppermint candies.

Angie went first with the white icing. Using medium pressure on the frosting bag, she started in the center and moved the tip out to the edge of the cupcake, allowing the stripe to get wider as she veered to the right, giving it a small curve. Mel followed her lead, filling in the bare spots with red stripes. Mel had thought this would be a good project for their couples, as they would have to work together.

When they finished the last of the twenty-four cupcakes, Angie went back and plopped a shiny silver Hershey’s Kiss in the middle of each one.

“Ta da,” she said. “Kiss Me Cupcakes. Hey, if the Bickersons start fighting tonight, we can always rename these Kill Me Cupcakes.”

“Funny,” Mel said with a smile.

Angie hefted the tray of finished cupcakes onto her shoulder while Mel opened the door to the walk-in cooler for her. She then started to clean out her mixers. She had an industrial Hobart and a smaller pink KitchenAid, both of which she would run back to save if the building ever caught fire. Yes, they were covered by insurance, but they were also her babies.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur of buttercream. Three special orders were picked up, one for a mah-jongg club, one for a Girl Scout Daisy troop, and one for the knitting club that met at the yarn shop down the street. Mat Matazzoni, a favorite customer, stopped by to pick up a dozen Calamity Creams, leaving their display case looking empty, which they didn’t mind a bit. Between the regulars and the steady stream of foot traffic from tourists visiting Old Town Scottsdale, Mel and Angie rarely had a chance to sit down, catch their breath, or even take a potty break. It appeared that despite Olivia’s attempt to steal their customers, Fairy Tale Cupcakes was doing just fine, thank you very much.

“So, have you thought of how we’re going to put a crimp in Olivia’s cupcake?” Angie asked as she joined Mel in the kitchen to prep for their class.

“Funny you should ask,” Mel said. “I did have an idea.”

“Let ’er rip, former marketing genius,” Angie said.

She was referring to the years before Mel was a pastry chef. As a freshly minted alum from UCLA, Mel had jumped onto the fast track at a marketing firm in Los Angeles. She was a natural, thinking up new and creative ways to move products, and her clients loved her. Too bad she had loathed all things corporate and lived only for her daily sweets fix at her local bakery, which became the catalyst she needed to ditch the job and pursue opening her own bakery. Still, she had skills.

“All I ask is that you keep an open mind,” Mel said. She circled the steel worktable, putting out the mixing bowls that their couples would be using.

“Uh-oh.” Angie looked concerned as she placed different-size cups with the ingredients already measured in them next to the bowls.

“What?”

“The last time you asked me to have an open mind, you set me up on a blind date with a guy who smelled like onions,” Angie said.

“Barry is nice,” Mel said.

“He’s our accountant,” Angie argued. “He’s logic and numbers and eau de stinky.”

“I was just trying to help,” Mel said. “Besides, you set me up with the wandering eyeball.”

“Clint is a good guy,” Angie protested. “He just has a lazy eye.”

“Really? Because the way it followed every pair of tatas that entered the room, it seemed to be getting quite the workout to me.”

Angie let out a put-upon sigh.

“Change of subject, I get it,” Mel said. “Now why did we name our shop Fairy Tale Cupcakes?”

“Because a yummy cupcake is our idea of living happily ever after,” Angie said.

“Correct,” said Mel. She put a wire whisk and rubber spatula beside each bowl. “Now, who always guarantees a happy ending in a fairy tale?”

“The handsome albeit devoid-of-personality prince?” Angie guessed.

“No.”

“Well, it’s not the evil stepmother,” Angie said. “And the mother is usually dead, so that leaves the furry wood-land creatures?”

“No.” Mel shook her head. “Come on, think.”

“Who’s left? The fairy godmother?”

“That’s it!”

Angie glanced around the room. “And this works for us how?”

“We’ll raffle ourselves off as the lucky winner’s fairy godmothers for one day, and we’ll call it the Fairy Tale Cupcake Contest.”

“Our oven is electric,” Angie said. “So you’re not suffering brain damage from a gas leak.”

“Oh, come on, it’s a good idea,” Mel said.

“I don’t know,” Angie said. “I’m not really the fairy godmother type. I’m more the surly dragon who flames people.”

“No flaming,” Mel said. “I figure we can launch the idea on our website and in a print ad in the
Phoenix New Times
. I’m thinking for every four-pack of cupcakes purchased, the customer can fill out a slip and enter the drawing.”