Sugar Rush (4 page)

“Oh, make no mistake, that woman is most definitely the enemy. She is as sneaky and underhanded as they come.”

“Dulcie?”

His father sighed. “No, Evelyn, the grandmother.” He shot Nick a look that said he should get there faster. “Although I highly doubt this Dulcie is much different.”

“Okay,” Nick said, putting up his hands in surrender, although the way his father was acting only piqued his interest. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“I’m serious,” his dad said. “We do not associate with anything related to Candy Land Confections
.
”

“Fine,” Nick said.

“Now, since you insisted on entering, we’ve got to start working on this contest entry,” his father said. “It’s coming up fast.”

“I know; I’ve been working on it,” Nick answered, wishing he’d grabbed one more cupcake for the road.

“Wait a minute,” his father said, pacing and rubbing his chin. His eyes suddenly lit up. “You said you find this Candy Land girl intriguing…”

Nick’s face scrunched. “Um, I guess,” he said tentatively.

“This could be perfect,” his father said. “If you could get close enough to her, we could gain access to their contest entry.” Something evil twinkled in his eye. “We could sabotage the whole thing!”

Nick wondered whether it was time to call the psych ward. “We don’t even know if they’re
entering
the contest. You’ve completely lost your mind.”

His father’s brows knitted together. “Of course they’ll enter, and this could be our perfect chance to—”

“Just stop right there,” Nick said. “I am
not
sabotaging some poor woman’s chocolates, for Pete’s sake. What has gotten into you?”

Nick’s father shook his head. “But it would be so simple. Just cozy up to this girl—”

“Stop, Dad. Just stop,” Nick said, staring him down.

His father sighed. “Fine. But remember, you’re the one who wanted to enter this damned contest in the first place, and you’d better not embarrass the store. We’ve already announced that we have a new flavor for the contest and our customers expect something huge. I’ve put a lot on the line for you.”

Nick nodded. “I know, and I appreciate it,” he said.

He still couldn’t figure out why in the hell his father had gone and announced a new flavor was in the works. Although it
had
brought a lot of extra business just this morning already. Must have put the store in people’s minds.

Still, the whole thing would be a lot less stressful if he could just relax and get creative. Leave it to his father to suck all the fun out of the one thing he’d been looking forward to.

His father eyed him dubiously. “Are you sure you don’t need my help with this?”

Nick nodded. Honestly, he could use all the help he could get, but trying to create something alongside his father might be the end of him. And he needed to prove he could do this on his own. “Trust me, Dad, I’ve got this.”

His father stared, then finally spoke. “I’m counting on you. All those people out there are counting on you.”

“I know,” Nick said.

“Do you?” his father asked. “Because I don’t think you realize what a big deal this is. I’ve seen other stores make a poor showing at the competition and get absolutely massacred in the food pages. A store is only as good as its last creation.”

Well, that explains a lot
, Nick thought. No wonder his father never came up with anything new. “I told you, Dad, I’m on it.”

“I hope so. Have some ideas ready for me after lunch.” His father stormed out of the room.

Nick listened to the whir of the machines in the warehouse, just beyond the door. Candy speeding along, pushed and pulled and prodded by machines, touched by human hands only to move them from one machine to another, assembly line style.

He blew out a huge puff of air and stared at the plain white walls.

How did his father expect any creativity out of him in this place?

He stuck in his headphones and started up his favorite jazz playlist, pulling out a notepad for brainstorming.

He drew a cupcake, labeling the drawing with the flavors that came to him so easily, then sighed, ripping the page out and balling it up, tossing it in the trash.

Candy. This has to be about candy
, he reminded himself.

He fell into daydreams of candy, all right, but it was not the designing of candy that was on his mind. It was a certain gorgeous candy girl making all the treats a person could eat, and she was making them for him.

An hour later, his father burst into the room, disappointment and frustration all over his face.

It was a look Nick was far too familiar with. He pulled off his headphones.

“The entire warehouse can see you in here, staring off into space with that goofy grin like you have nothing better to do.”

“I was just trying to find my muse,” Nick said, relieved his father couldn’t read his mind. “You know, brainstorming.”

His father crossed his arms and glanced at the empty sheet in front of Nick. “So what have you come up with, then?”

Nick looked around. “Uh…I don’t know, like, white chocolate coated cookie bits or something.”

His father threw his hands in the air, looking to the ceiling for help. “A very well known candy bar company has already done that, Nick. I really don’t think copying some low-grade chocolate bar is going to cut it with the judges.”

Nick took a deep breath. “Well, I didn’t mean that we should use low-quality chocolate…or cookies for that matter.”

“Ridiculous,” his father said, turning out of the room, muttering under his breath.

Nick only caught a few words: “son of mine,” and “so lazy,” “no vision at all,” but he was pretty sure he got the gist.

Chapter Four

Lila put her hands on her hips. “Sign up for the damned contest already. It’s tradition; you have to do it. Think of all the things you could do with the prize money, not to mention the satisfaction of kicking that jerk’s ass.”

Dulcie sighed. “I can’t. Too risky. What if I make a complete fool of myself again?” She had filled Lila in on the disastrous contest year. It had been far too painful and embarassing to tell her when it had happened. Thankfully, Grams had kept her secret for her.

“How on earth is that even possible? Your stuff is amazing.”

Dulcie’s first instinct was to say,
How would you even know? You’re no expert
, but she stopped herself. Lord knew Lila could probably kick her ass.

“Thanks, but…I don’t think anything in the Spell Book is special enough anymore. Everyone’s already seen everything.”

“So make something new,” she said matter-of-factly, as if it were that simple.

Dulcie stared.

“Oh my God, maybe you should listen to your Grams for once. Think outside the box.”

She rolled her eyes. “If Grams ever found the guts to come into the store, we might stand a chance, but with her issues, I don’t see how we can compete.”

“Why not? You make candy every day. Just make another batch.”

Lila didn’t get it. She never would. “I could completely ruin our reputation…again.”

Lila tilted her head, looking doubtful. “Your reputation? You think your Strawberry Marzipan is going to hook up with the competition’s Hazelnut Fudge or something?”

Dulcie tried not to laugh, but the idea was kind of hilarious. The ridiculousness of the whole situation was getting to her, like the fact she’d rather jump off a cliff than actually make one of her own creations, especially in front of the world. “I can’t… I mean…” She sighed.

Lila leaned in, like she wanted to pull the answer out of her. Then she shrugged. “You’re the one who doesn’t get it. You think I’m just a friend who likes sugar, but I’ve tried those other guys’ stuff. Dulce, you
can
compete. For real.”

Dulcie waited for the punch line, but nothing came. Lila looked straight at her, as serious as she’d ever seen her.

Dulcie groaned. “I can’t. I just can’t,” she said, and walked away, straight through the kitchen and out the back door.

Lila would watch the counter for a few minutes. She’d done it a million times before, when Dulcie had to make sure a batch of caramel didn’t burn or a cream base didn’t curdle.

She flopped on the ground, landing on some of the cardboard Jess used for sitting.

“Rough day?” Jess asked.

Dulcie leaned her head back on the wall. “Rough life.”

“I hear ya,” Jess said, taking a swig from her water bottle.

Oh God. She was complaining about her life to a homeless person. How much lower could she get? Dulcie looked at her. “I’m so sorry. Ignore me.”

Jess swiveled to face her. “Look, I know because of my”—she motioned around—“situation, you probably don’t want to talk about your problems, but believe me, I would love five minutes thinking about somebody else’s shit instead of my own.”

“Really? Like for real?”

“Bring it on,” she said, turning to lean back on the wall.

Dulcie sighed. “God, where to start?”

“Start at the start,” Jess said, shrugging.

She took a deep breath. Start at the start. Right. “So my mom got sick a couple years ago and the store kind of fell to me to take care of after she died.”

Jess took a deep breath, raising her eyebrows. She looked Dulcie in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Dulcie gave that
it’s okay
smile she was so used to giving.

Jess leaned back on the wall. “I was wondering how someone so young had a store all by herself.”

“Yeah, well, my grams is half owner, and anyway, a lot of stuff is piling on, the rent on this place, supplies, upkeep…everything else. I just really don’t want to lose my mom’s store.”

Jess kept nodding.

“And then there’s the whole time issue.”

“Time issue?”

“Yeah. There’s never enough.”

Jess laughed. “Right. You do kind of rush around like a chicken with no head sometimes.”

Dulcie raised her eyebrows in agreement.

“So what’s the deal? Why can’t you just keep doing what you’re doing?”

She sighed. “The thing is, Grams is totally fine with me keeping the store open and everything, but it has to be self-sufficient. I mean, she takes care of a lot of the house and makes sure we have food and everything, but we don’t have a bunch of money to put into Candy Land. And if I can’t turn a profit, I have to let it go.” She dropped her hands to her sides in defeat.

Jess drew in a big breath. “Well, I’m no expert in the money department, obviously, but you should do everything you can to save the store. Anyone can see how much you love it. And I seriously doubt that has anything to do with continuing your mom’s legacy or whatever.”

Dulcie crinkled her brow. “Why?”

“Like I said, anyone can see you love it. And you can’t fake that.” She paused. “Besides, where would I sleep? Everywhere else in this city smells like sewer.” She grinned, and Dulcie found herself smiling, too.

She’d never really thought much about it before, but she realized Jess was right. “I do love it. It’s kind of insane how much, actually. How many twenty-two-year-olds have their dream job?”

“Not too many, I imagine,” she said.

“I mean, there’s this one thing that could help…”

Jess turned to face her. “What one thing?”

Dulcie shrugged. “It’s this competition, for the best new flavor or whatever, and the prize money would really take the pressure off.”

“Is it expensive to enter?”

“No, it doesn’t cost anything.”

“Sounds like a no-brainer.”

Dulcie pulled her knees in, hugging them. “But what if I’m not good enough?”

Jess sighed and leaned back. “I may not be an expert at too many things, but I am an expert at regret.” She turned to face Dulcie again, serious. “It sticks with you. For a long time. Believe me, if you have a chance to save this place, you’ve got to try. It might be hard, but you’ll be so mad at yourself later if you don’t.”

Her eyes bobbed back and forth, looking from one of Dulcie’s eyes to the other and back again, like she really wanted to get through to her.

And it worked. The way Jess talked about regret…she obviously knew from experience.

Except…Dulcie was still terrified.

She took a deep breath. Jess was right. If she didn’t at least try, she’d hate herself. And honestly, what
did
she have to lose? At least, that’s what her head thought. Her heart, on the other hand, was thinking she’d lose customers, the store, her mind, perhaps…

Then again, those were all things she stood to lose already.

The day tumbled downhill from there, and as Dulcie opened the web page showing the grade on her last Economics paper, any confidence and ambition she may have had in that alley shriveled to the size of the raisins she was cooking that morning for their Butter Tart Slice, special because it was drizzled with white chocolate.

The only thing her mother had ever asked of her was to get her degree. Every bit of money she’d had in the world had gone into education savings, and all Dulcie could seem to do to repay her was let her down. If she couldn’t figure out a way to get her grades up, there was a very good chance her hopes of a Masters would be over, along with any chance she had of learning something that might help her run the business.