Bonus Scene!
At sixteen, I took my first job at Celestial Bakery. Little did I know at the time that I was a part of a short-lived experiment; the bakery’s presence in the food court of the local mall wouldn’t last much longer than my employment did.
The owner of the shop, Melissa McAfee, was a woman ahead of her time. She’d spotted a cupcake shop in New York and thought a sugar high was just what fatigued shoppers might need. Unfortunately, a lot of shoppers looked askance at her shop because they’d never seen a cupcake shop before.
The end result? I didn’t have a lot to do at my first job, one I wouldn’t have obtained without the help of Nana, who was great friends with Miss Melissa through the Marietta Chamber of Commerce. They also often sent business each other’s way since brides needed both dresses and a cake.
Blessedly, I didn’t put a dent in their friendship through the events of one fateful Friday evening.
That night, I was ready to close. My feet hurt from standing all day, and my soul ached from boredom. I’d sold very few baked goods, and one of those sales had been to myself. I’d wiped down counters and cleaned the glass case. I’d even handed out tiny samples in an attempt to drum up business.
Nada.
As I wiped down the counter for the umpteenth time, someone cleared their throat rather delicately.
I looked up to see… my nemesis.
Mary Kate Rutherford stood on the other side of the counter in all of her splendor: perfect glossy blond hair, straight teeth, an impossibly pimple-free face despite being my age. She wore low-rise jeans at least four sizes smaller than mine, a cheeky thong no doubt peaking above her back waistband.
Homecoming Queen, head cheerleader, queen bee.
And there I was behind the counter: greasy hair, braces, and a pimple the size of Stone Mountain on my nose.
But I was a professional. “Welcome to Celestial Bakery, what I can I serve you today?”
One corner of her mouth quirked up at the word “serve.” And that was the true source of our animosity. While I had to admit that I was jealous of her flawless appearance and popularity, it was her behavior I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d ever done to harm her in any way, but she never missed the opportunity to throw barbs my way.
In gym class, she “accidentally” served a volleyball across three makeshift courts to hit me in the head while I was concentrating on a different game. In math class, she turned around to see my failing grade and made an announcement to the class. Once, she even told my crush, Dylan Baker, that I didn’t shave my armpits.
Even worse, her family came from old money; my family came from no money. Hence, I had a job at the very mall where she was shopping, several bags dangled from her arm, including a Victoria’s Secret bag. Nana would have a flying duck fit if I ever brought home one of those.
That’s why I always put my Vicki’s purchases in a JC Penney bag before walking into the house.
I had plenty of time to think all of this because Mary Kate continued to scan the limited choices as if her entire future depended on which cupcake or cookie she would choose. Finally, she pointed at the very last strawberry cupcake. “I want that one.”
I rang up her purchase and put on gloves so I could get her cupcake.
As I reached for the delicacy in question, she added, “But it doesn’t have enough sprinkles.
“Not a problem,” I said with what I hoped was a smile but was probably a grimace. “We have extra sprinkles for such situations.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding almost disappointed that I had a ready solution to her ridiculous and clearly manufactured problem. “Well. I prefer a lot of sprinkles.”
“Lots of sprinkles coming up.” I turned to the cabinet behind me and reached into the back of the cabinet for the container I needed. As I stood, the gaggle of girls around Mary Kate snickered.
Sticks and stones, Stella. Sticks and stones.
I shook the container to add a dainty dusting of sprinkles to Mary Kate’s cupcake. She tilted her head to one side, a frown of consideration marring her face. “A few more, I think.”
“Tell me when,” I said, channelling my future job as a server at Olive Garden—not that I knew in that moment a job change was imminent.
After quite a few sprinkles landed, I paused.
“I didn’t say ‘when.’”
With a shrug, I continued shaking as she turned to her girlfriends. “It’s a shame Stella has to work here. I bet she goes home smelling like food court.”
I paused so she could inspect my work.
“I didn’t say you could stop.”
Despite a placid expression, anger jolted through me. Slowly, gingerly, I turned the little jar on its side so the bits of multi-colored candy could pour freely.
“I was telling my boyfriend Dylan just the other day that he really dodged a bullet with Stella. He was going to ask her out, but I told him she was one of those feminists who preferred to look like a hairy ape. Sasquatch maybe.”
The girlfriends tittered, but one sucked in a breath, her eyes wide at the amount of sprinkles now landing on the cupcake. They cascaded, bumping off on each other and piling around the wrapper. She tried to get Mary Kate’s attention, but my nemesis was on a roll.
“He’s getting a limo for Homecoming.”
My wrist tilted ever so slightly, causing the sprinkles to flow even faster.
“I’m thinking about giving up my V card that night. He’s been a good boy and—”
Her mouth dropped as she registered the cupcake in a box full of sprinkles.
Her features contorted with rage. “You!”
I could only shrug. “You didn’t say when.”
“You ruined it! Get another one.”
“That was the last one,” I said. “How about a chocolate frosted one?”
She stamped her foot. My mouth fell open as I watched her stamp her foot again.
“No! I want strawberry. Take the sprinkles off.”
Take the sprinkles off? How the heck did she think I could do that? “I’ll refund your money.”
“I. Want. A. Strawberry. Cupcake. With. The. Appropriate. Amount. Of. Sprinkles.”
“And people in hell want ice water.”
She took a step back. “You did this on purpose.”
I schooled my features into what I hoped were those of innocence. “You told me not to stop until you said ‘when.’”
Also, you are a raging asshole of epic proportions.
“I’ll make sure you’re fired.” She leaned forward. I could smell Starbucks on her breath.
“You can try,” I drawled.
She made an odd gurgle of frustration and then flipped her hair for a dramatic exit. I waited until she’d flounced three steps away.
“You forgot your cupcake.”
She whirled around to give me the bird just as her mother approached with an exasperated, “There you are.”
Silence and seconds stretched between us before Mary Kate’s mother screeched, “Mary Katherine Rutherford!” She launched into a diatribe about how ladies didn’t flip people off then grabbed her daughter’s arm to drag her from the mall. Mary Kate’s dejected hangers-on trudged behind them while studying their shoes.
Only then did I allow a wide grin as I tossed the cupcake into the trash and closed up the store for the night.
True to her word, Mary Kate went to Melissa McAfee with her sob story. I got fired as one condition for Celestial Bakery’s keeping a lucrative wedding cake contract with the eldest Rutherford daughter.
But Mary Kate missed the Homecoming dance. Her mother grounded her for potentially embarrassing her mucky-muck father by “flipping some nobody the bird.”
I guess you could say…karma was had by all.
With sprinkles.