When Cilla returned to the van she sat staring out the windshield for several long minutes before pulling away from the curb. What had happened? Her arm was still tingling from that slight touch. That’s just crazy. She talked herself down and carefully parked the van back behind the shop. She ran up to her apartment to change her shirt and it was then that she finally opened the envelope Jon had handed her. She pulled out seven crisp one hundred dollar bills. Shit, that’s way too much.
She looked at the receipt, the price of the cake wasn’t anywhere near that much. She scanned it for a phone number or some way to contact him, but there was only an address. She would have to go back over there and give him his money back. But she would do that later. Right now, it was too nice a day to stay indoors. She was going to go out and wander for a while, get lost in the crowds and see what kind of gems she could find in the little shops and boutiques along the way.
As the afternoon gave way to early evening Cilla trudged up the stairs to her apartment, her bags crackling and bouncing as she walked. She had taken Sid’s advice and bought a few things that were brand new, including two very stylish pairs of shoes. She got herself a bottle of water and sat down amongst her things. Sid was right, it did feel good to buy new things, she wouldn’t tell him that though. If she told him he was right, he would crow about it for months. While she did still love hunting through the thrift stores, the throw she found for a song attested to that, she couldn’t deny the fact that her new shoes and the new skirt she found were a thrill too.
Lying in bed that night she finally let herself replay the scene at Jon’s door that morning. What was that tingle all about? He had been very nice and very generous, but she couldn’t help but wonder about the electricity when they touched. She had loved Charles and they had been good together for a while, but when they touched there weren’t any tingles. What could it mean?
~
When she found Sid and Mark they were seated outside at the little café they frequented every Sunday. “My, my, don’t you look lovely my dear?” Cilla was wearing her new skirt. It was a long flowing gypsy-style skirt done in shades of red and black with a metallic thread running through it. She had topped it with a red lace edged tank top and she was also wearing one of her new pairs of shoes; flat metallic strappy sandals. Her hair flowed about her shoulders and down her back; she even put a bit of make up on.
Mark stood as Cilla approached and reached for her hand as he kissed her cheek. Sid stood too but Cilla just gave him a dirty look. “How are you Mark?” Mark pulled out her chair “I’m just fine Cil. Is that a new outfit you have on?” Cilla nodded, still not acknowledging Sid, “I just bought the skirt and shoes yesterday. I found this great little boutique about a block from the shop.” Mark nodded, he knew from Sid about her habits and was glad to see that she had spent a little money on herself. “You look wonderful sweetie.” She patted his hand, “thank you.”
After the waitress came and took their order Sid tried to talk to Cilla. “Cil, what’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?” She looked over at him, “I’m mad at you. You set me up yesterday.” Sid feigned innocence, “what are you talking about? All I did was leave you to deliver that cake.” Cil wasn’t buying it, “you left me to deliver that cake alone, to” she leaned in and lowered her voice, “Jon freaking Bon Jovi.” She moved back, “that’s what you did.”
His face reddened, he’d been caught, “so what if I did. Have you looked at the man lately, he’s fabulous.” Cilla rolled her eyes, “that’s not the point. You deliberately set me up. I’m not looking for a man Sid. I told you the other day, I don’t have the time or energy for a relationship right now.” Sid sighed, “okay Cil. I’m still not convinced that you don’t need a man, but I’ll let it go. For now.” He pouted and batted his eyes at her, “still love me?” Cilla just shook her head, she could never stay mad at him for long. She sighed, “I guess. But you’re paying for brunch.”
As the three of them sat sipping their iced tea Cilla noticed a man walking up the sidewalk in their direction. He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. She sat up straight in her chair, leaning in to talk to Sid and Mark, “oh God don’t look, but here he comes.” “Who?” Sid made to turn and she stopped him, “HIM and I said don’t look.”
Jon was out taking a walk after having deposited the kids back with Dorothea. The apartment always felt so empty, so tomb-like that he just had to get out of there. He hadn’t paid any attention to where he was going, he was just wandering, trying to clear his mind, but thoughts of the kids and, the cake lady of all people, just keep niggling at him. As he walked he found himself replaying the time she had spent in his apartment over and over again. He could clearly see her and then the thing at the door. What was that?
As he slowed to wait for the light to change so he could cross the street, he looked up and saw the café. There were people sitting outside enjoying the sunny day and he thought maybe he’d stop for something to drink. That’s when he saw her. She was sitting with two men, laughing and sipping on a drink. He watched her pretty pink lips as they pulled the straw to her mouth and pucker when she sucked on it. He felt his body react to the innocent gesture and he decided he needed to get to know this woman.
Crossing the street he walked up to the café and stopped near her table, “Cilla?”
Chapter 5
Chapter 4
Cilla shifted her weight from one foot to the other while she waited. Just keep it together Cil. You can do this. You’ve done cakes for celebrities before. She rolled her eyes at that thought. None of them were a hot, sexy 46 year-old rock star/divorced dad of four. She smoothed a hand down her ponytail as the door opened in front of her.
“Yeah, can I help you?”
Cilla looked up into the bluest eyes she could ever remember seeing. His pictures really didn’t do him justice. She let her eyes roam over him, his jeans were worn and faded, his black t-shirt was molded to his frame and his hair was going every which way, as if he had been running his fingers through it. She managed a smile when the crash behind Jon snapped her out of her reverie.
“Son of a… Romeo, get over here!”
Cilla glanced over Jon’s shoulder in time to see a tall dark haired body move quickly past. She looked back at Jon, an amused smile tugging at his mouth. “Hi, I’m Cilla from Queen of Tarts. I’m here to deliver a birthday cake.”
Jon opened the door wider, “come on in, just watch out for the half naked little man running around here.” Cilla laughed, “terrible twos?” Jon led Cilla through to the dining room, “atrocious threes. He has a major aversion to clothes these days.”
Just then Richie came out with Romeo over his shoulder, pants firmly in place. “Success brother.” He passed Romeo over to Jon, “who’s the little lady?” Cilla looked up, “I’m Cilla” she held out her hand, “it’s nice to meet you …” She didn’t say his name not wanting to be too familiar with someone she knew but didn’t know. Richie smiled and took her hand, “I’m Richie, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He looked beyond her at the cart, “what is that?”
She lifted the cardboard cover off the cake, “it’s a birthday cake.” Jon and Richie watched as she moved the cake to the table and set the decorations around it. When she was finished she turned and handed Jon the tall, slim candles. “These are sparkler candles. Just be careful with the little ones running around. You don’t want any burnt fingers.”
Jon took the candles and managed to grab Romeo’s hand before he could stick his fingers in the cake, “thank you.” He looked the cake over, “Steph’s going to love it.” Cilla smiled, “I was hoping you were going to say that.”
Richie cleared his throat, “do you deliver to LA by any chance? My daughter’s birthday is in the fall, she’d love something like that.” Cilla turned to Richie, “sorry, can’t help you with that. LA is just a bit outside my delivery zone.” She smiled and handed him her card, “I could recommend someone out there for you though.” She gathered her things, “my job here is done. Enjoy the cake and the party.”
Jon led her back to the door, picking up an envelope from the table by the door, “here” he handed it to her. Cilla took it and when their fingers touched she felt a tingle all the way up her arm to her shoulder. She looked up at him and their eyes finally met, “thank you.” He was taken by the unusual color of her eyes, there were gray with just a bit of blue near the pupil. Very interesting. The jolt of their fingers touching hadn’t gone unnoticed either, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do about that. Yet.
Chapter 3
With Sid’s words ringing in her ears, Cilla put a little more effort into her grooming this morning. She topped her black walking shorts with a pink cami and her white button down with the pink crown embroidered over the left breast pocket. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror she brushed her hair until in fell in soft waves down her back. She swept her bangs across her forehead and secured them behind her ear with a crystal-adorned bobby pin and pulled the rest back into a low ponytail. Applying a bit of mascara and slicking some gloss on her lips she declared herself ready.
Pouring coffee into a travel mug, Cilla headed down the stairs and into the back door of her shop. Sid was there waiting for her. “Morning, don’t you look pretty today.” Cilla rolled her eyes at him, “are you saying I don’t look pretty every day?” He kissed her cheek, “you look especially pretty today sweetie. Took my advice didn’t you?” She shoved him away from her with a smile, “Ass. Come on we’ve got to load the cake into the van and get it delivered by noon.”
Sid followed her to the refrigerator. “I can’t help you with the delivery today Cil. Mark and I have plans.” She turned to look at him, “what do you mean you can’t help me? It’s part of your job to help me.” He shook his head, “Mark has tickets to the new exhibit at the Met. I can’t pass that up, you know that. Then we’re going shopping. I found this pair of Ferragamos that are to die for.” Cill shook her head and rolled her eyes, “God help me for trying to come between you and your shoes. What was I thinking?”
Sid starting taking the tiers of the cake out of the fridge, “you’d do well to invest in a decent pair or two yourself.” Cilla got the cart from the corner and looked down at her feet. Her flats were worn and faded, but she considered them just nicely broken in. “What’s wrong with my shoes? They’re practical and comfortable. What more do I need?”
Sid made a face, “they’re hideous for starters. Did you find them at one of your favorite second hand stores?” He knew Cilla favored thrift shops and second hand stores to the multitude of retail shops that surrounded them in the City. She sighed as she gathered all the “extras” that would adorn the cake and decorate the board the cake was sitting on. “I still don’t see a problem.” He shut the refrigerator door, “you live like a pauper sweetie and I know there’s no need. Have you spent any of your grandma’s money?”
Cilla sat down on her stool, when her grandma has passed she had left Cilla everything, “no, but why should I. I don’t need anything. I’m happy with what I have.” He patted her arm, “I know sweetie, but once in a while it’s nice to splurge. Buy something brand new, something that no one has ever worn before. You might like it.”
She stood and moved things onto the cart, “maybe I will after I get this cake delivered. Where am I taking it again?” Sid smirked behind the receipt; she had done all the work, looked over the notes, but still had no idea who the cake was for. “The new museum building. Apartment on the 26th floor.”
Together they loaded every thing into the back of the van. Cilla got in and rolled down the window, “can I have the receipt?” Sid handed it to her, “be careful sweetie and don’t forget brunch tomorrow. Wear something pretty okay? Mark likes it when you do that.” Cilla laughed, “for him, I guess I can make the effort. Have fun shopping today and enjoy the art exhibit.” He headed around the corner and Cilla took off in the opposite direction.
Pulling up to the building she actually found a parking spot right out front. She picked up the receipt again, looking for the client’s name. J. Bongio…Oh My God, I’m going to kill him. She stepped from the van fuming at Sid. How could he do this to me? She took a deep breath and counted to ten; killing Sid would have to wait.
Walking to the door, the door man stopped her, “can I help you miss?” Cilla explained why she was here and who she was here for. “Do you have identification miss?” She produced her driver’s license and the order receipt. Satisfied that she wasn’t some crazy groupie trying to get in he handed her back her things. “Everything seems to be in order miss, do you need any help unloading?” Cilla shook her head, “I’ve got it, but thanks.” She hurried to the back of the van and slid the cart down the fold out ramp. The door man let her into the building and directed her to the elevator.
Riding in the elevator Cilla contemplated the many ways to kill a man without anyone being any the wiser. Jon Bon Freaking Jovi, he sent me to deliver a cake to Jon freaking Bon Jovi. What the hell was he thinking? She forced herself to stop frowning as the doors slid open. She walked down the hall, finding the door to the apartment slightly ajar. Pasting a smile on her face, she knocked and waited.
Jon was, at the moment, laughing and trying to chase down a half-naked Romeo. “Come back here you little monkey.” He followed Romeo down the hall, “you need your pants on man.” He stopped when he heard the knock. Tossing the pants in his hands to Richie, “go see if you can catch him man, I gotta answer the door.” As he walked to the door he wondered how Dorothea had managed to keep all four of them under control all by herself.
Chapter 2
Cilla stretched, cringing at the pops and cracks as she worked out the kinks. She rose from the table and walked around it, checking the cake from all angles. It was finished. The top tier did indeed look like a small purse and she had fashioned a clasp out of modeling chocolate and silver dragees. She had decorated the tiers with star bursts, music notes and had hand-painted the various articles of clothes that were scattered around the sides of the cake. She had fashioned shoes out of more modeling chocolate and the girl's name, Stephanie had been done in gold fleck across the front of the bottom tier. She took several photographs before moving the cake to the refrigerator.
Glancing at the clock she winced. It was nearly 6. She remembered Sid stopping to give her a kiss before he left and reminding her about brunch on Sunday. She walked through her shop, the cases were empty and all the pans were washed and stacked, waiting to be refilled. All she had to do was pull the gate down out front and lock up. She walked around the corner of her shop, up the outside stairs and unlocked her door. She lived above the shop. She had four rooms, plenty for her. She didn't have much in the way of possessions, her ex saw to that. He took just about everything. She did manage to save her CDs and a few prized items, but everything else he had smashed or taken with him and that was fine with her. She hadn't wanted anything from him by the end anyway.
Her sofa and oversized chair were thrift store gems that she had covered with slip covers she had sewn herself and the coffee table was a flea market special that she had refinished. The television and stereo were second hand and her bed, well, her bed had been a splurge. She hadn't been able to resist the queen size wrought iron bed after she laid eyes on it in the catalog. She'd ordered it right then; that and the Egyptian cotton sheets. Those had been on clearance though, as had the quilt. Hanging over the bed was the only thing of any real sentimental value that she managed to salvage from the breakup and that was only because she had smuggled it to Sid before her husband could do anything about it.
The poster was vintage now. It was 20 years old if it was a day. The guys had all their glorious long hair and were adorned in leather and spandex. Cilla sighed, she remembered the day she got it autographed. They had been in London the day the band had their signing at Tower Records after New Jersey had come out. Charles had taken her to London for a vacation, before everything had gone wrong. When she heard they were going to be at Tower Records she begged him to go. They had stood in line for hours, but it had been worth it. She had all their autographs, all five of them. When they returned to the states Charles had taken the poster had had it framed for her. She had hung it in their spare room and looked at it every day when she walked on her treadmill.
Cilla walked over to the poster and ran her hand along the black lacquer frame, at least I managed to save this. She sighed and sat down on her bed. Things had been so good and then had gotten so ugly and she still didn't understand why, but here she was, 42, divorced, running her own business and alone. She kicked her shoes off, pulled off her shirt and pants and headed into the bathroom to fill the tub. Looking in the mirror she remembered what Sid had said earlier, if you do something with this, you'd be able to snag yourself a man.
She sighed, at 5'4" and 115 lbs, she was by no means a hag, but the lines on her face told another story. She piled her dark hair up on her head and turned to the tub. She loved her claw foot tub. She could sink to her chin in the bubbles and soak away the aches and stress of the day. It wasn't quite full yet so she went to the kitchen, poured her self a glass of wine and turned on the stereo. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the towel she had hanging over the back of the tub and let the music take her.
Cilla burst into the apartment, 'Charles! I got them, I got tickets to see Bon Jovi at MSG!' They were the hottest tickets going and that she had been able to score two was a miracle. He came from the kitchen, "you're not going." He was in one of his moods, his tone was flat and his eyes were flatter. Cilla's face fell, "why not? I paid for the tickets with my own money. If you don't want to go, I'll just drag Sid with me." He crossed the room and got right in her face and hissed, "I said you're not going. I don't care how you paid for the tickets and you certainly aren't going with Sid."
Tears burned her eyes but she wasn't going to cry, "I've got third row seats! I damn well am going with Sid." He grabbed her arms and shook her, "are you sleeping with him?! Is that it?! What is it with you and him, how long have you been at it? Do you laugh at me when you're with him?!" He was in a tirade now, she shrank back in fear of him. When he backhanded her and she slumped to the floor he fled the apartment. She called Sid. When he got there she had pulled herself together, gathered some of her things, including the poster and he took her to his place.
Cilla sat up straight in the now cool water and shook her head. She hadn't thought about that night in years. She stepped from the tub and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. As the tub drained she took the pins from her hair, letting the chocolate cherry curls trail down her back. Walking into the bedroom she dug out her favorite night shirt. It was a man’s deep red silk shirt she found at yet another thrift shop. Her last thought as she closed her eyes and drifted toward her dreams, I wonder who ordered the cake.
