Slice

“What happened to the cake?”

“What?”

“I said, what… happened… to… the cake?”

“That cake?” Scott, nervously bug eyed, nodded his head towards the kitchen counter where a beautiful chocolate cake sat with a very obvious missing slice cut out of it.

“Holy shit, Scott! Yes! Did you take a piece of this cake?” Grant knew the answer, as there were only the two of them in this apartment. He was simply asking so that he could have righteous confirmation for his incredulous anger.

The vein in Grant's forehead was scary, but Scott stammered, “I might have? I mean, yes. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Did you buy this cake? A cake that had to be special ordered? A cake that I had to be put on a three week waitlist for?”

“No. No to all of that.”

“It is common knowledge that in a roommate situation, you don’t use OR eat anything you did not bring into the house without explicit consent from the one who DID bring it in!” Grant was normally pretty uptight, but this was extreme even for him. “It’s ruined!”

“I only had one slice and it wasn’t even that big.” Scott truly didn’t understand what the big deal was. They had lived together for over four years now and this has never been an issue. He was struck with a sudden pang of terror at the thought of Grant ever finding out about his butter or band-aid usage.

“This is an organic, single source cacao, french butter, ganache frosted chocolate cake with real candied violet decorations from Thibodaux’s. It is the hottest commodity right now and Faye is expecting it to cap the dinner she’s making me tonight.” Grant had been seeing Faye for a couple months now and it’s been getting pretty serious. “I can’t show up with this!”

“She’s a cool chick, I’m sure she’ll understand.” Scott could see the muscles in Grant's jaw flex. “Look, is she expecting a whole cake? Maybe you could just bring a couple of slices in some Tupperware or something?" Scott had a point but it was clear that Grant wasn't having it. "Okay. Okay. Did you tell her you were bringing this specific cake?"

"Well, no.”

Scott jumped off the couch. “There you go! I’ll go out and get a replacement dessert for you. You’ll see. I’ll fix this, Grant” He was way too excited for someone talking completely out of his ass.

“What can you get that is even close to this cake, Scott?” Grant was right to be leery of Scotts proposition, but he was also out of options.

“You aren’t the only one with connections in this city.” He was already walking to the door, completely ignoring the doubt on Grant’s face. “ Let me try. I bet you I can get my hands on a suitable organic, single source bullshit replacement. Hang tight.” He grabbed his jacket and keys and hurried downstairs to the street.

When he hit the stoop, a wave of panic washed over him. Shops were starting to bring in their sidewalk displays. It wasn’t going to be long before all of them closed for the night. He looked up and down the street, paralyzed with indecision. To the right, there were chain shops but to the left were all the mom and pop places. Left it was.

Both the Jewish deli, where he would pick up his mom’s favorite cookies, and the Italian place that had the best cannolis on the planet, turned their “open” signs to “closed” as he approached them. He wondered what Grant’s problem was recently as he scanned the street for anything that looked like it would remotely contain edible sweets.

Scott wasn’t as particular about things as Grant was, but it wasn’t an Odd Couple situation. Both were clean and respectful. They would hang out occasionally after work and on weekends. The two of them would make time to celebrate holidays and birthdays together even. They knew each other's families. Scott thought of Grant as more of a friend than just a roommate. Grant’s been so weird since Faye came into the picture.

Don’t get it twisted, Scott liked Faye. She was the relaxed yin to Grant’s anxious yang. She was funny and kind. She was good for Grant. Grant would be dumb to not marry her. Oh no, what if tonight was the night he proposed? Did he ruin a future memory that they’d tell their kids about?

He passed by a coffee shop with muffins in the window. The door didn’t open when he pulled on the handle though. What if they are getting married. Where would that put Scott? Would he have to move or would Grant move out? Would they all live together? That was a ridiculous notion. This wasn’t college. It could very well be time for him to try to navigate life solo for a change. He imagined his wallet cringing and the thought of the little squeak noise it would’ve made caused him to laugh to himself. He shook his head at the absurdity and looked up just in time to see the flickering neon sign ahead of him.

There, in all it’s pastel unicorn vomit glory, was an honest to goodness bakery. In the display window were candy colored iced cookies, rainbow frosted cupcakes, and a white and gold wedding cake with an unnecessary amount of tiers. Best part? The lights were on. It was still open. Scott ran to it like it was an oasis on a deserted island.

He hit the door and pushed it open with such force it knocked the little silver bell above him off its bracket. “I need your help!”

“Excuse me?” The owner and head baker of Firefly Bakery, spun around in time to see her doorbell fly across the room. She looked back at the crazed, out of breath man on the other side of the counter and slowly reached back for the chef’s knife on the worktable behind her. She leaned over to look behind him to check for the thing that had to have been chasing him.

Scott looked over his shoulder in an attempt to see whatever it was that she was looking at and when he turned back around he saw the woman holding the large knife up close to her chest. “Oh! Oh, god! I’m so sorry. I’m not a lunatic. Really.” She relaxed her arm so that the knife was more belly-button level. “I just need a cake, and I need it now.” She brought the knife back up to her chest. “Hold up, I’m going to pay for it. I’m just really in a bind.” He took a deep breath and started a rambling monologue. “I messed up big and ruined this cake my roommate got for his girlfriend and now they aren’t going to get married and it’s all my fault and I told him I’d make it better but I don’t know if I can and I saw your light was on and…”

“Stop. Breathe. I don’t understand half of what you are saying.” Rita turned around and put the knife back down. He was looney, that much was clear, but he didn’t seem dangerous. She wiped her now clammy hands on the grey twill apron she was wearing and turned back around to her visitor. “I hate to break it to you, but we don’t keep the cakes in stock. It’s all special order.”

“What about the one in the window?”

“The wedding cake?”

“Yeah. How much for that?”

“Well, that one is styrofoam, but if it was cake it'd be a couple grand.”

“Jesus. What about just squeezing a bunch of those cupcakes together?”

“One, that’s not how that works. And two, those are also styrofoam.”

“Do you have any actual food in this place?”

Rita crossed her arms at her chest and glared at Scott. “Well, we do for most of the day and then our normal customers come in and buy it all when it’s fresh.” She placed all the emphasis on the word “normal”.

“I’m sorry. I’m not this rude in real life. I just… Do you have any ideas at all that could help?”

Rita took a deep breath in. He certainly was pitiful, and kind of cute. “Just wait right there. I might have something in the back.” She gave him a good up and down, just in case she needed to give a description to the cops, and walked into the back room. She was gone only a couple of minutes before she emerged with a medium sized round layer cake. “This was a special order, but the client never came to pick it up.” She placed the cake on the counter and Scott walked over to inspect it.

“It says ‘Happy Birthday, Doreen.’ Her name isn’t Doreen.”

Rita glared at him again. “It’s a yellow cake with chocolate buttercream frosting. All of it made from scratch by yours truly. I know this is hard to believe, but I can probably fix that for you.”

“Of course. Understood. I’ll take it. Wait, is it organic?” Rita crossed her arms at her chest again. “Right. It doesn’t matter. Thank you, thank you, thank you. The other cake had these little sugary purple flowers on it. Do you think you could do something like that?”

“Was that other cake from Thibodaux’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh boy, you are in trouble.”

“Yeah.”

“Let me get my tools.” She walked back behind the swinging door and emerged with a tool box and a large metal bowl. In the bowl were three piping bags of more buttercream; a yellow bag, a purple bag, and a teal bag. She set everything down on the counter and opened the tool box. She took out a couple of offset spatulas and a handful of silver cones that Scott correctly assumed were icing tips.

She placed the chocolate cake in some good light on the worktable. She grabbed one of the smaller spatulas and carefully slid it under the words on the top of the cake to remove them . There were piped scrolls on the top and bottom edges, so she took a larger spatula and smoothed those over. That helped fill in the divots she just made and gave the cake a slightly more modern look. She then got to work making tiny, perfect, flowers in varying combinations of the colors of icing she pulled out. She placed those flowers in a sweeping arc up the front and across the top. Scott tried to watch from the other side of the counter and was amazed at how quickly her hands worked. When she was done, Rita set her handiwork in front of Scott. It was perfect and delicate and beautiful.

“I love it. It’s way prettier than that other one. How can I ever repay you?”

“Money.”

“Oh, right.” Scott reached for his wallet.

“I tell you what. Since I was going to have to toss it anyway, I’ll give it to you for half price.”

Scott smiled. “Thank you. Again. You know, if you ever wanted to know what that stupid fancy cake tastes like, I think I know where you could get some.” Now it was Rita’s turn to smile.

Grant was pleasantly surprised by Scott’s acquisition and Faye loved the cake. So Scott was off the hook. There was no proposal that night, but Grant and Faye did wind up getting married a couple years later. They never told their kids this story, though. Rita and Scott’s children would hear the story plenty enough for all.