Shameless CEO And The Cursed Cat

Hollyn

With a steady hand, I pipeBitchon the top layer of the light brown cake, smiling with every loop of the script letters. Once I’m finished, I step back with a hand on my hip and admire my handiwork. The script writing is some of the best I’ve ever done. I purse my lips together and exhale a sigh. With an icing spatula, I scoop up a dollop of frosting and smear it over the top. Too bad I have to cover it up. If you ask me, it would look better if it wasn’t.

Nothing is worse than spending your entire afternoon decorating a wedding cake for the one person who’s spent most of their life bragging about how much better their life is. Our parents have been friends since we were kids, so we grew up together. As kids, it was fun, until we became teenagers, and she’d constantly remind me and my twin sister, Parisa, of all the things she had that we didn’t. But I always took the high road. So, the day she came into my bakery and the first thing she did was blatantly glance down at my empty left hand, I knew I was going to hate what came out of her mouth next. Sure enough, a little part of me died inside when she asked me to design her wedding cake. Five years ago, I was supposed to be the one walking down the aisle, but instead, I spent the night sitting on a hotel bathroom floor with a bottle of champagne. And when you’re wallowing in your own self-pity, one bottle is never enough.

With a pair of rubber tipped tweezers, I delicately place the edible pearls in a swooping pattern around the center layer of the three-tier cake. Luckily, I don’t have to attend the actual wedding.

Thank you, girls' weekend.

All I need to do is finish the pearl work and Della, the owner of The Sweet Spot, will finish the flowers before taking the cake to the reception.

The music blaring in my earbuds dims as an incoming call comes through my phone. Glancing down, Olivia’s name flashes on the screen. I answer, putting her on speakerphone, but before I can even get a word out, Olivia’s voice booms through the speaker.

“Girl, you better be at home, showered, bags packed, and fancied the fuck up.”

“Well, not quite.” I glance down at my black yoga pants with smears of buttercream frosting and a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. “But good news is my bag is packed. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll be ready.”

Olivia’s been friends with Parisa since they started working together at The Blue Stone Group. In turn, she’s become one of my friends as well.

“A couple hours!?” Olivia screeches. “I’ll give you an hour. If you’re not home, I’m coming to the bakery and kidnapping your ass.”

“Okay. Got it. See you then.” I’m only half listening as I continue placing pearls on the cake.

“I’m serious. Sixty minutes!” Olivia's voice echoes through the kitchen before I press end.

Because of the two extra hours I put in today, I got further than I was expecting. Now, Della will have less work tomorrow. I lift the cake and carry it to the commercial refrigerator and place it next to the other two finished tiers. As soon as I finish cleaning up the kitchen, I lock up and make my way home.

Once I walk through the door, I dump my purse on the couch and hustle upstairs to take the fastest shower imaginable. When I’m done, I throw on a sequin mini-dress and apply a light coat of make-up. Not five minutes later, a black stretch limo pulls up to the curb in front of my townhouse.

The instant I close the front door, the driver is already waiting next to the wide open car door. Olivia pokes her head out. “Hurry, bitch! We have drinks to drink and some celebrating to do.”

“I’m coming! I’m coming! You guys started without me, didn’t you?” My heels clatter on the cement walkway.

“Of course we did.” Olivia’s bright red lips pull into a wide grin as she holds up her glass.

The driver takes my bag, and I bend down to climb into the rear of the limo, careful to not show my ass to my neighbors. I flop down in the seat along the far side next to Liana, Charlie’s soon to be sister-in-law, and Tatum, Olivia’s sister. Olivia and Parisa sit across from me, while Charlie and a couple of her friends sit along the back. Charlie also worked at The Blue Stone group until things got serious with her co-worker, Bennett. Then they both left.

Parisa hands me a glass before popping open another bottle and pouring the bubbly liquid into the glass.

“Thanks. This is exactly what I need.” I swallow a big gulp of the champagne. The bubbly taking off a little bit of the edge from earlier. But only a teeny tiny bit. “I don’t know why I agreed to make Krystin’s wedding cake. It’s been a nightmare from day one. She’s changed the cake flavors three times. Changed the type of frosting twice. Why do I put myself through this?”

“Because she pays well.” Parisa shrugs.

And she does. Well, her parents pay well. She enjoys dipping into their pocketbook. “There has to come a time when I shouldn’t sacrifice my happiness for money.”

“The time will come.” Parisa’s voice is soft and soothing. “But on the plus side, you’re done, and you don’t have to go to the wedding.”

“Thank God for that.” I take another sip.

“With all that depressing shit out of the way. It’s time to celebrate!” Olivia raises her flute. “It only took an engagement and a baby on the way to finally get together for a girls' weekend. Cheers bitches!” Everyone raises their glass except Parisa. She has a bottle of water as she’s the one with the baby on the way, and we all toast.

Over the next two hours as we drive to the Cities, we talk about life, Charlie’s wedding plans, and Parisa’s pregnancy. Then somehow, the conversation turns to my love life, or lack thereof.

“You two are lucky you’ve found someone. Dating is hard.” I tip back the glass, the last drop of champagne wetting my lips, and I glance between Charlie and Parisa.

“Your someone is out there. And he’ll come around when you least expect it.” Parisa rests a hand on my knee.

“After several years of not dating, I’m starting to lose hope. None of the guys I’ve gone out with this month have been the one. One guy was a blind date set up by this sweet old lady who comes into the bakery. She mentioned her grandson is around my age and single and she wasverypersistent that I meet him. I told her to have him come to the bakery, and he did. At first sight, he was attractive, well groomed. I had high hopes for the date. Everything was going great. Dinner was good. Conversation was decent. He even walked me to my door. And that was where the date imploded.” I motion my hands like a bomb exploding. At the time, I wish there was an actual bomb.

“What happened?” Liana asks before taking a sip of her drink.