The Hipster Chronicles Page 11

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  “I guess I got lucky with my oysters, then.”

  “Not as much competition, I’m sure. That’s a good thing. And I’ve had them—you should be proud. I’m not the biggest fan of shellfish, but your oysters did something to me.”

  His eyebrows waggled and a suggestive smirk danced across his face.

  I raised my hands in warning. “Don’t even say the aphrodisiac thing. So overdone. Besides, you don’t need to go that route to sell them. They’re delicious as is.”

  “But sex sells. Every business owner knows that.”

  “There’s nothing sexy about cupcakes, Zander.”

  “I beg to differ.” He took another bite of the chocolate decadence, annihilating it. “This is the sexiest cupcake I’ve ever had.”

  I shook my head and laughed through my nose. “How so? Sexy isn’t a taste. It’s a state of mind.”

  “Exactly! Half an hour ago I was ready to swim across the Atlantic to beg Zoe to come back to me. This cupcake put me in a New York state of mind. I had a solid few minutes where I didn’t think about her at all.”

  “Then my work here is done!”

  “If only mine was.” It was amazing how quickly his demeanor changed. He was back to hanging his head as he balled up the cupcake wrapper and tossed it into the trash beside my desk. “I’m on my way to cancel the florist, the band, the officiant, and then I have to work up the nerve to get over to the Brooklyn Winery and put the final kibosh on the whole thing.”

  “Aw, Zander. That sucks. I’m so sorry about all of this. Can I make you a care package of cupcakes to go?”

  He slid his hand over his shirt, caressing what I was sure was a twelve pack. “While I appreciate that, I’ll have to pass. I’m back on the market, remember? I need to keep my girlish figure.” His blasé wink made me wonder if his mind was already set on finding that rebound Kyra mentioned earlier. He would surely have no problem in that department, between his good looks and his pheromone-inducing oysters.

  Ignoring the pang of jealousy that tightened my gut, I shrugged. “If there’s anything else I can do to make this easier on you, don’t hesitate to stop in.” It was an innocent offer, but I could understand where he might get the idea I was proposing something other than a dozen fresh-baked cupcakes.

  A flicker of . . . something . . . dashed across his face. Gratitude? Hope? I couldn’t tell. But before either of us could contemplate, his hands were in his shorts pockets and he left me with a, “See you around. Thanks for everything, Paulina.”

  IT WAS A Saturday in August and I hadn’t taken a day off in . . . Crap! Had it been over a year? There was that saying that August was the Sunday of summer, and I totally understood why. I had that remorseful feeling that summer was coming to a close and I had nothing to show for it. I needed to play hookie with a vengeance. Well, my version of hookie, anyway.

  I woke extra early that day and baked my ass off. With a place for everything and everything in its place, I turned the keys over to Hammond and Miriam, and read Kyra the riot act. They could close by four only if the customer per hour ratio was less than two by that time. I had no doubt it would be, since mid-August seemed to be a very popular time for New Yorkers to take out-of-state vacations. Once the business was on steady feet and I could trust someone to man my baby the way I did, it would also be my week to venture off to some distant spot in the tropical sun, far away from the traffic, smog, and overcrowded streets.

  But for today, my dreams of the Caribbean Sea were put on hold to spend a lazy afternoon with my friend Marley. We’d grown up together, attending St. Stanislaus Kostka Catholic Academy from pre-k to eighth grade. Even though we went our separate ways in high school and then college, we managed to stay in touch and got together as often as we could. Our schedules made that difficult—me up at the crack of dawn to get to the bakery, and her tattooing into the wee hours of the morning—so this was a long overdue get together. Today was a long overdue everything.

  I checked my Uber app and clicked on the one set to arrive the soonest. Within a hot New York minute, my compact four-door chariot pulled up to the curb outside my apartment and I was on my way to meet Marley at River State Park. I was looking forward to walking around aimlessly and chatting carelessly. It seemed like forever since I had the chance to do anything other than focus on the bakery. Can you say workaholic?

  For a pleasant change, there was zero humidity and the temperature was in the low eighties. It beat the inferno of a heatwave we’d experienced the prior week when it was so hot I was lazy enough to take advantage of Uber to drive me to and from the bakery. The six bucks a trip was well worth avoiding swamp ass and the boob lagoon, not to mention heat like that made me crankier than a toddler at naptime. But not today. Today, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and I was ready for whatever Marley had in store for us.

  Jumping out of the car, I thanked the driver, swiped through the app to give him the stellar rating he deserved for his cleanliness and timeliness, and searched the benches lining the riverfront for my gal pal. Off to the right, sitting under the shade of a large tree, I spotted her with her phone to her ear. I took the opportunity to sneak up behind her and eavesdrop. Hey, before you judge, remember that I had like no social life. These days, I lived vicariously through others and would take whatever thrill I could get. For all I knew, she was on the phone with her gynecologist’s office, making an appointment for her annual. Hell, that would still be more action than I was getting. Jealous of sterile stirrups. Jesus, something’s gotta give.

  “Yes, baby. Uh huh. Just the cowboy boots.” She giggled and my jealousy grew to new lengths. “Oh, and don’t forget the chaps!” She slapped her bare thigh, her head lolling back in melodious laughter. Our eyes met, hers from an upside down perspective, and she immediately shot up and cleared her throat. “Um, Jasper, lemme go. Paulina just got here.” She said her good-byes, all the while smiling so brightly I couldn’t wait to ask her who this Jasper guy was and why she’d been holding out on me.

  “Hi,” she said, trying to hide her smile but failing adorably.

  “Hi to you, too.” I scooted beside her on the bench. “Who’s Jasper and why is he wearing cowboy boots?” I cut right to the chase before giving her the chance to change the topic. The sleeve of ink on her freckled skin made Marley come off bold and daring. But deep down I knew the true Marley. Guarded and cautious—especially with her heart. I was itching to hear all about the man who had her visibly swoony.

  “You heard that?” Her hand flew up to her mouth, revealing a chipped cobalt manicure.

  “If you hadn’t noticed I was standing there earjacking your convo, I probably would’ve heard all your dirty secrets.” I nudged her shoulder with mine. “Now, come on, tell me more. You seem so happy. I had no idea you were dating anyone.”

  Marley let out a sigh and stared off across the riverfront. “I wouldn’t exactly call it dating. We’ve never said anything about exclusivity, but I’m not seeing anyone else and I don’t think he is either. Then again . . .” Worry flashed across her face and she cracked her knuckles before placing her palms in her lap and nervously stroking her thighs. “It took me until this exact moment to realize I’d be jealous as fuck if I found out Jasper was sleeping with anyone other than me.”

  I arched a brow and tilted my head.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Because in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never been the jealous type. You’ve always had a what you see is what you get kind of attitude and you couldn’t care less about being the center of attention. I admire all of that about you and I’m not casting judgment, but it sounds like you’ve stepped out of your comfort zone. That’s gotta say something about the kind of guy he is.”

  “It does,” she hummed. “He’s pretty amazing, Lina.”

  I smiled, genuinely happy for my friend. “How’d you meet?”

  “He came into the shop
for a tattoo like a tourist on a mission. There was something about him that sparked my interest from the start, but he’s so far from the kind of guy I usually go for, I didn’t even realize I was attracted to him until I heard him sing.”

  “He’s a musician?” The words flew from my mouth with disdain. I immediately thought of Marley’s brother Milo.

  Milo Crawford, walking sex-god. When we were growing up, I had the most insane crush on that boy. He paid me no mind but treated me nice enough, being I was his sister’s friend. I resigned my twelve-year-old self to the fact he was out of my league and I was just a baby in his eyes. Until that one summer when I was seventeen and Milo and I ran into each other at a party. I was no longer a tomboy with pigtails and dirty fingernails, and he took notice. Marley wasn’t around for disproval or forewarning, so we let the buzz of cheap beer and nostalgia get the best of us. That night, Milo Crawford fulfilled every one of my teenage-girl fantasies and kissed me as though he knew I’d been dying for it for years. I’d been kissed before, but not by someone with Milo’s brand of experience. After all, he played in a band and had girls fawning over him for as long as I could remember.

  I was one of those girls.

  Nevertheless, that kiss ruined me for any other boy for a very long time. I never saw him again after that and I certainly didn’t tell Marley about our little rendezvous, but I did obsess over it for a few months. What? I was seventeen! I was sure that kiss was a start to the future I’d foolishly dreamed of for Milo and me. I got over it, as most crush-sick girls do, but anytime I thought about him a spasm of regret crept up to remind me how what-ifs and unrequited feelings could linger long after they should be allowed to.

  I tucked those immature emotions aside to listen to Marley delight in telling me the story of her and Jasper. And what a story it was. I laughed in disbelief when she got to the part about him being an Alabama boy who made her rethink her aversion toward country music.

  “Marls, you can’t be serious. You? Country music? That’s like—I scanned my surroundings and pointed to a guy with a thick beard that plunged to the second button of his plaid flannel—that dude and a razor!” I shook my head when I realized I didn’t have to point to one particular guy to prove my point. Marley liking country music was equivalent to any man within a two-mile-radius shopping at Bloomingdale’s over Fred’s Thrifty Finds around the block from the bakery.

  To my utter shock, my friend of what seemed like a million years raised her hands in surrender. “It’s true. I confess. I’ve been turned.” She proceeded to pull up her latest iTunes purchases and my eyes widened in amazement.

  Luke Bryan, Eric Church, Maren Morris. “Oh no! Not Carrie Underwood! You blacklisted American Idol for all of eternity when she won! This can’t be happening. This Jasper guy must have a magical co—” And then it hit me. “Oh, my God, Marls. You’re in love with him! This is amazing!” I found myself clutching my chest and beaming. I hadn’t had any luck on Zoosk, OkCupid, or Tinder, but this wasn’t about my non-existent dating life. My friend was in love. I was sure of it. No random hookup or insignificant scoob had the power to get Marley to appreciate what she once called ‘the genre otherwise known as whining with fiddles.’

  “Whoa. Hold the fuck up. No one said anything about love. I’ve known the guy a little over a month. Let’s not get carried away.” Even as she said it, full of conviction, I could tell she was mulling the thought over in her mind.

  “That means nothing and you know it. Do you know how many weddings cakes I’ve done for couples who’ve tied the knot after only one date?”

  “How many?” she dared.

  I chewed at the inside of my mouth and scowled. “Okay. Just the one, but still.” I inched closer to her and grabbed her hands. “Maybe it’s not love yet, but something tells me this is more serious than you’re letting on. You know how good I am at this kind of thing.”

  “So good, you’re still single.” It was a dig, but a friendly jibe just the same.

  “Nice. Real nice.” I dismissed her dis and went back to making my point. “I’ve never seen you like this. Can I meet him sometime? I’d love to see the country boy who’s stolen the skeptic’s heart.”

  “Enough with the heart and all this love shit!” she exclaimed, rising from her seat and stretching her arms above her head. “I’m starving and I’ve been sitting on this bench so long my ass is numb. Let’s grab lunch and then window shop at RePop.”

  “RePop? Have you been tattooing for the stars or something?” I stood to join her and tugged my purse strap higher over my shoulder.

  “Nope. I said window shopping. I couldn’t afford a lamp shade from that place, but I love their displays. It’s like peeking into an art gallery, only with furniture instead of paintings. Gets my creative juices flowing.”

  I shrugged, but understood because we were both artists in our own rights. Besides, the more we strolled around and did things that made Marley happy, the more she’d be willing to share about Jasper and how she was falling in love with him.

  We wound up talking mostly about the bakery and how my mom was coping since Dad passed. Marley brought up a time she’d stayed over for dinner and I laughed, remembering the corny way my dad always tried to butt into our girl talk. It felt good to reminisce about him like that. I focused so much on him being gone that I often forgot about hanging on to the happy times. I had to make a habit of doing that with Mom more often. It would be good for the soul.

  It wasn’t until the pungent aroma hit me that I realized we’d meandered to Smorgasburg. My stomach growled and my mouth watered in anticipation. I’d only been here a handful of times but not once was I disappointed.

  “Busy today. Looks like everyone had the same idea,” Marley commented as we weaved through a thick crowd and scattered picnic tables.

  “Know what you want?” I asked, scanning the assortment of vendors marked by colorful canopies and nifty logos.

  “Everything,” she laughed, her nose in the air like a search and rescue dog sniffing out its latest objective.

  There was everything from gelatos to poke bowls, tacos, and gourmet French fries. Vegans and carnivores alike had plenty to choose from. Those with a sweet tooth or a craving for something savory would surely find their mecca, as well. I was leaning toward a cheesesteak but I felt Marley tug on my arm, dragging me away from the allure of the Philadelphian cuisine.

  “Oh! Lobster rolls! I’ve been dying for one of these ever since Jasper and I caught Guy Fieri chowing down on one on an episode of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.”

  Without much choice as her grip was pretty firm, I spun around and followed her toward the stand. Once we were in line under the red and white canopy, I looked up to search the menu and my heart drummed in my chest.

  Behind the counter stood Zander, looking fine—as Kyra would say—and shucking oysters. I hadn’t seen him since that day in the bakery when he poured his heart out to me. And now here we were, about to meet again, and I hadn’t been in contact with a mirror since I left my house at five this morning.

  “Crap!” I muttered.

  “What’s the matter? Forgot your wallet? I’ve got you covered, girl.” Marley was so focused on the menu she didn’t notice me futzing around with my hair to make sure I didn’t look like a mess.

  But Zander did. “Paulina! You’re here!”

  I smiled, reacting to the way his dark eyes sparkled and his voice showed enthusiasm at the sight of me. “Hey, Zander. Yes, I am.” It sounded so stupid—stating the obvious—but I was caught off guard, giddy with unanticipated butterflies, and sensitive to the weight of Marley’s curious stare.

  “You know him?” she asked with a smirk.

  “Yeah. Sort of,” I whispered with a shrug and caught Zander abandoning his oysters to come around and greet us.

  “He’s cute,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “I know.” I clenched my jaw but kept smiling because Zander was approaching.

  He leaned in for a hu
g and planted a soft, unexpected kiss on my cheek. “Couldn’t resist my oysters, could you?”

  The tenderness of his kiss left me feeling alight—the sun must’ve been stronger than I thought—and I struggled to find the correct response. What wound up coming out on the fly was pathetically honest. “No, not really. My friend kind of pulled me over here. I was eyeing the Philly Cheesesteaks.”

  Both Marley and Zander laughed—Marley merely spurting out the sip of water she’d poured from the complimentary canteen and Zander scratching his head.

  “Smooth.” I heard her mutter under her breath before waving at a still smiling Zander. “Hi. I’m Marley, by the way.”

  “Zander. Glad to hear at least one of you came for oysters.”

  “Well, actually . . .” she hummed. “I came for a lobster roll, but I’ll try the oysters. Lina tells me they’re addicting.”

  “She did?” He beamed.

  I’d said no such thing and we both knew it. But I realized what she was trying to do, and rather than bring more attention to how awkward I’d already made myself look, I rolled with it. “Yeah. I told her they were the best I’d ever had.”

  “They’re also the only ones you’ve ever had.”

  How’d he know that?

  Gauging my obvious confusion, he stroked my shoulder and explained, “Last time I saw you, you told me you weren’t a fan of shellfish. I took a wild guess.”

  “Good looking and attentive,” Marley pointed out. “I like this guy, Lina.”

  Oh, Jesus. She had no idea that Zander was recently jilted and grieving the loss of his soul mate. This was no time for Marley to play matchmaker. Not to mention, I still had no intention of playing the rebound.

  In an attempt to make this less painful and get on with what we came for, I brushed off her insinuation and looked up at the menu. “On second thought, a cheesesteak sounds ordinary. Can we get a dozen of your famous oysters and two lobster rolls?”