Smashwords version Sweet Surrender (3 page)

Poppy
heard the bakery’s front door slam as Rafe and his hot brunette
girlfriend/fiancé/lover left, but she still waited a couple of minutes before
venturing out into the bakery again.

Violet was standing at a display shelf, rearranging the
pink-tipped boobsicles. She flashed Poppy a huge grin when she saw her.
“Hey, I was watching you! I don’t know what got into you, but that
was
hot
, at least until that bitch came in. You should do that more
often.” She peered at Poppy. “What’s wrong?”
Poppy was shocked to find herself blinking back hot tears. “Oh,
nothing,” she said shakily. “It wasn’t him” – which was a lie – “It’s just
everything. Finding out that Penelope manipulated me yet again just when I
thought she’d finally settled down and started being responsible, and I’m going
to be handling giant chocolate phalluses for the next eight weeks, and you know
how self-conscious I get, and…”
“Hey, I’m there for ya, babe! You can just do the inventory and
the ordering and work the cash register if you want.  I can handle
chocolate phalluses all day long. Or should that be phalli?  What is the
plural of phallus, anyway?”
Poppy found herself managing a faint smile, although she still
felt queasy at the memory of Rafe abruptly pulling away from her. Viola could
always cheer her up.

“I don’t know, Viola, I don’t generally have to deal with more
than one phallus at a time, chocolate or otherwise.”
“You should try it some time,” Viola pronounced, grabbing a breast
cupcake off a cake stand and biting into it. “Take that out of my salary, by
the way. $4.99, plus tax. Oh, don’t look so shocked.  There was a band,
and the guitarist and the drummer were both totally hot, and I couldn’t decide
which one I wanted, so-”
“Lalalala, I can’t heeear you!” Penelope put her hands over her
ears and ran to the other side of the store.
“Very mature!” Viola yelled after her. “And that is not the proper
attitude for the manager of an erotic bakery! When I tell stories like that,
you should be eating them up! Get it – eating them up? Because it’s a bakery?
Get it?”
“Yes, Viola, unfortunately I do. And by the way, you have a nipple
on your cheek,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster, and then she
retreated into the office as Viola checked her reflection in the mirrored wall,
pulled the cherry nipple from the glob of frosting on her left cheek, and ate
it.
Poppy locked the office door, strode behind the desk that was
mostly hidden under piles of paperwork, and buried her face in her hands.
She was utterly demoralized by the whole scenario with Rafe, which
was ridiculous, because the encounter had lasted for all of a few minutes. It
was just that for a brief moment there, she’d felt attractive and desirable and
lusted after, and it had been so delightful. And when he’d first looked at her,
she’d felt something that she’d never felt before, an instant, sizzling
connection to him.
Apparently the connection was only one way.

Well, the hell with it. So a man had flirted with her for the fun
of it, without wanting anything more from her.  It hurt, but she’d been
hurt before, and she always picked herself up and dusted herself off.  Her
mother had provided her the perfect example when she was growing up – all she
had to do was think about what her mother would do, and then do the exact
opposite.
Poppy had been five when her mother remarried.  Her mother, a
wealthy, full-figured young widow, had fallen hard for the handsome con artist
who wooed her after her husband’s untimely death. She’d spent a small fortune
setting him up in business, and steadfastly ignored his constant cheating, for
years.
And she’d been so blindsided when he finally ran off with his
skinny secretary that she’d never recovered. Instead she’d starved herself thin
to the point where she had to be hospitalized for anorexia, and made a fool of
herself begging her errant ex-husband to come home, and let the family business
collapse, and viciously lashed out at her younger daughter, Penelope, attacking
her for the sins of her father.
Her life was consumed with bitterness and resentment and longing
for a man who’d never love her again.   Poppy was never going to let
that happen to her.
She had work to do. She had responsibilities. She had made her
sister a promise, and until she figured out a way to get someone else to
replace her and manage this bakery for the rest of the summer, she was going to
do this right.
She settled down at the desk and began digging through the
teetering piles of paperwork on the desk, searching for the list of suppliers
and delivery.  

Papers
were jumbled together with no rhyme or reason, some of them lying on the
floor.  Lists of suppliers, and invoices, were jammed willy nilly into the desk
drawers.  She couldn’t even open one of the desk drawers more than half way; it
was stuck shut, and no matter how hard she yanked on it she couldn’t get it
open.

She was going to have to spend the next couple of days organizing
Penelope’s office and balancing her books, which was no surprise.
 Penelope was a creative whirlwind who swirled through a room and left
chaos in her wake; Poppy was her cleaning lady, running behind her and picking
everything up and putting it back where it belonged.
The mental image depressed her.
Outside the room, she heard Viola’s voice raised in anger. “Wire
you money? For what? It’s not my fault you got fired. You do not need more
guitar strings, for god’s sake,  I lent you money for that last week.
 Of course you can still play the gig. Are you telling me you have no
guitar strings at all? Where did the money go?  Oh, fine, I’ll –“
Poppy leaped up and ran over to the door and stuck her head out.
“Hey! He’s manipulating you again!  Do NOT give that little dickwad any
more money!”
“Gotta go,” Viola said hastily to her cell phone, and then shut it
with a snap. “Great balls of fire, Poppy, did you just cuss? I didn’t think you
had it in you.”
“He brings it out in me. Your boyfriend is a jerk, and he can earn
his own damn money. There, I swore twice, that’s how much he pisses me off.
That’s three times!  I guarantee you he’s not going to miss his gig. And I
guarantee you he’s lying about the guitar strings. Has he ever paid you back
any of the money that you lent him?”
“I’d rather not discuss it. You’re right. The wallet is now
closed,” Viola said gloomily, then immediately brightened. “Hey, when he dumps
me for not giving him any more money, I’m working in a bakery, so I can
literally drown myself in frosting! They have a cooking pot in the back that’s
big enough – I saw it.”
“That is a very interesting way to look on the bright side.
 Woops, customers are coming, I gotta hide. I mean do some filing.”
Poppy quickly ducked back into the office and shut the door,
shaking her head.  Viola was already convinced that Nigel, her guitar
player boyfriend, was going to cheat on her during the two months she’d be away
helping Poppy with the bakery.
Poppy sincerely hoped so, because then maybe he’d move on to mooch
off some new sucker and leave Viola alone. Viola had terrible taste in
boyfriends.
Several hours later, Poppy had made serious headway in organizing
the office, and with the help of the head baker, Tomas, she contacted the
bakery’s suppliers and assured that the necessary deliveries would be made.
 
Throughout the day, to Poppy’s deep mortification, Viola kept
calling her out of the office to meet the store owners from the neighborhood
who came in to introduce themselves and tell her they were glad to see the
store opened back up again.

Even by mid afternoon, Poppy still blushed every time she had to
shake hands next to the giant vagina cake displayed on top of the bakery counter.
“Eat me!” was written in frosting on its floury lips.

“This place certainly is…colorful,” Marty Gotschall, real estate
agent said, looking around the store. He looked like a formal high school
football player gone to fat, stuffed into a suit that just barely fit him.
 He flashed white teeth at them in a used car salesman smile, and shoved a
glossy business card into Poppy’s hand before she could jerk it away. “So
you’re the new owner?”

“My
sister is the owner. I’m helping her out for the summer.”

“Well,
let me know if she’s interested in selling. Good location, good location. This
neighborhood’s got potential. I’ve got a few properties for sale down here, if
she’s looking to expand.  What about you? Are you interested in securing your
future with a guaranteed-“

A slim Asian woman with stylishly razor cut hair walked up behind
him, carrying a bowl of freshly sliced fruit. “Marty! Goodbye, it was great
seeing you again,” she said, sliding easily in between him and Poppy.

“Uh…thanks, I mean…” With a slightly bewildered look, he waved at
Poppy and Viola and turned and headed for the door. When he walked he leaned
forward as if he were a quarterback muscling through a 4-3 formation.
Definitely ex high school football.

“Hi, I’m Amelia. I own the fruit stand. That guy will talk your
ear off,” Amelia said, setting the bowl of fruit down on the counter. “So,
you’re helping Penelope run the store?”

“Yes, I’m her sister Poppy. I’m just helping her out for the next
eight weeks while she recuperates.”

“Wow, eight weeks?” Amelia looked surprised. “I didn’t know she
was that badly injured.”

Viola rolled her eyes. “If Poppy hadn’t visited her in the
hospital right after the accident I would have thought she was faking the whole
thing so she wouldn’t have to come to work. Cock popsicle?”

“Viola!” Poppy protested.

“What, my foul language or the fact that I pointed out that your
half sister is a full liar?”

“Both.” Poppy speared her with her best disapproving schoolmarm
look, but Viola ignored her and held up a cardboard display box with various
flavors of chocolate phallus pops.

“Thanks, don’t mind if I do,” Amelia said, grabbing a popsicle
that was a swirly mixture of milk and dark chocolate, and peeling the plastic
wrapper off it.

“Mmmm, biracial. My flavorite,” Viola sniggered.

Poppy felt her cheeks heating up with embarrassment. Viola was
right; she really needed to loosen up.

Viola grabbed an orange slice and dipped it in a sample jar of
chocolate body butter. “This is excellent! Try it, guys. Amelia, we will buy
one bowl of fruit slices from you every day, and put them out here for the
customers to sample. You can leave a stack of business cards by the fruit bowl
if you like.”

“Cool beans!” Amelia beamed at her, dunking an apple slice in the
chocolate.

Poppy felt a twinge of conscience. She’d promised her sister she’d
do everything she could to make the bakery a success while Penelope was in the
hospital. She should be networking and coming up with promotional ideas too.
She was just still so shocked by her surroundings that she was struggling to
get her bearings.

“Oh, great, it’s my breast friend,” Amelia groaned, rolling her
eyes at the door. A tall man with thick graying blond hair, wearing a
houndstooth suit one size too big for him, was enthusiastically making his way
towards them.

“Henry Chenowith,” Amelia said in a low voice. “President of the
Warehouse District Chamber of Commerce. He only talks to your boobs.”

Sure enough, he thrust his hand out, pumped Poppy’s hand in a
vigorous handshake, and said “Henry Chenowith, pleased to meet you,” to her
cleavage.

Poppy almost said “40 double D, pleased to meet you too,” but she
reminded herself that she was here to help Penelope, not antagonize her
neighbors. So instead she introduced herself politely and pasted a fake smile
on her face and prayed he wouldn’t comment on the surroundings.

“We’re so pleased the store is open,” Chenowith told her breasts.
“I hope you come to all of our meetings. Penelope already joined, so there’s no
charge to you. We’re having a business mixer tonight, at O’Malley’s Tavern, if
you’d like to come. 7 p.m. Two blocks east of here.”

Poppy found herself pondering the suggestion.  She wasn’t
really looking forward to confronting her sister that evening; hadn’t
discovering the true nature of Sweet Surrender, and the run-in with Rafe
McDaniel, been enough trauma for one day?

She saw Viola looking at her with narrowed eyes. Viola knew her
all too well.

 “Coward,”
Viola mouthed at her.

“What? It’s business promotion,” Poppy said indignantly. “I’ll
visit Penelope tomorrow night.” Viola gave her a knowing look and sucked on her
orange slice.

“Excellent, excellent! We’ll see you there, then.” And Chenowith
bustled off. Amelia stuck her tongue out at Chenowith’s back as he walked out
the door, and Viola giggled.

“You could come with me,” Poppy suggested to Viola once he was
gone.

“I have to babysit the rugrats, remember?” Viola was staying at
her aunt’s house for the summer, and babysitting her children while her aunt
took night classes. Penelope’s studio apartment only had one fold-out sofa and
there was no room for Viola there.

“Fine. I’m going to have at least one drink. I might even have
two. And I’m going to flirt with men. You’ll be sorry you missed it.”