Page 3 of Sweet Spot

Chapter Three

Macy

My coffee and pastry cart, aptly named Sweet Spot, had had a long line all morning. I was exhausted, and my trays were nearly empty. All in all, another successful day. Since my cart sold mostly breakfast and late morning snack items, I was able to close up at noon. That gave me the remainder of my day to bake for the next morning. It was an exhausting work day, but I loved every minute of it.

I'd rented the kiosk from the city. They had decided to provide vendors with food stands in the center of the city square, a crowded plaza that was surrounded by tall office buildings and high dollar apartments. It was an ideal location. There was always plenty of foot traffic. My cart stood between a smoothie stand and a hot dog vendor. The Smoothie Guy, as the stand was named, was run by Chuck, a man in his mid fifties who wore a long ponytail and sandals. The Dawg, where you could get a foot long hot dog topped with every darn condiment known to man, was run by George. He had a heavy southern accent and always wore the same white t-shirt and cargo shorts. They were great, entertaining neighbors, who, I discovered on the first day, were also in a romantic relationship.

Chuck walked over to my cart as I began to pack up for the day. He was carrying a paper cup. "Macy, try this sample. It's got pineapple in it so I can't give it to George because his lips will swell up like balloons. I'm thinking of calling it Paradise, to go with a Hawaiian theme.

I sipped it. "Hmm, yes, Paradise works. You should top it with a pretty umbrella."

Chuck's attention had been diverted to something behind me. "Speaking of pretty." He looked over at George and motioned with his head. "Here comes Mr. Beautiful. Looks like he's just gotten done with an important lunch meeting."

I turned and followed Chuck's line of sight. Mr. Beautiful, as Chuck and George had nicknamed him, was a rich, young man who lived in the penthouse of the building adjacent to the city plaza. I had to give it to my neighbors, they knew beautiful when they saw it. Aside from jet black hair and green eyes that stood out like precious stones, he was tall and well built with one of those easy, confident strides that made it seem like he was just gliding over the ground. I'd only been in the kiosk for a week, but I had yet to see the man leave or enter the building without a woman on his arm. Today, it seemed, he'd decided two was better than one.

The woman on his left, who was having a hard time walking in her strappy heels, pointed in the direction of Sweet Spot. The man seemed reluctant at first, but eventually, the three of them walked toward my cart.

"Ooh, looks like you're going to get your first close up," Chuck muttered through the side of his mouth. "He's a real nice guy too. I've talked to him a few times. I'm curious to know what you think." With that, Chuck headed back to his smoothie stand, his sandals slapping the brick pavers with each step. He made a point of nodding a hello at the trio.

They stopped in front of my cart. The woman who had pointed out Sweet Spot twisted her lips in disappointment as she eyed the mostly empty trays. "How on earth do you make any money when you don't have anything to sell?"

Mr. Beautiful pushed his sunglasses up on his head, revealing those jewel toned eyes. Chuck was right. There just wasn't any other word to use than beautiful. "I'd say she sold out of everything already." He smiled at me. "What happened to Yolanda?"

"Yolanda?"

"She used to run this stand. Only she sold muffins and these weird donut-like things."

I shrugged. "I was on the waiting list, and this was the kiosk that came available. So I guess Yolanda and her weird donut-things have moved on."

He stared at me longer than necessary, long enough for me to discretely flick my finger across my nose in case I had a pastry crumb stuck to it. Something certainly had his attention. Thankfully, the woman on his right broke the awkward scrutiny session.

"Do you have something that's sugar free, fat free and gluten free?" the woman asked. She was one of those model thin people with long legs and perfectly shaped lips.

I surveyed the remaining bakery treats left on my trays, as if I was actually searching them for her everything free pastry. I smiled up at her. "I've got water and black coffee."

The other woman laughed loud enough to startle the pigeons perched on the telephone lines. The second woman was shorter and with plenty of curves. She had sparkling blue eyes that seemed to be made extra bright by colored contact lenses. "Nina, why don't you just draw in a deep breath. That's gluten free and sugar free." She stuck out a long polished nail. "I'll have that last cheese pastry and a water."

I grabbed the pastry and a bottle of water for the woman.

Mr. Beautiful took out his wallet. "Let's go, Nina, do you want something or not? I've got to get back to the office."

Nina blew an angry puff from her perfect lips. "That's some thanks I get for trying out those body paints." She shifted her skin tight jeans around a bit, as if there was any free space between the denim and her body. "I think that blue paint is still in my—" She stopped and looked at me, seemingly just remembering I was standing there. "I'll have a coffee."

I walked to the coffee pot. There was just enough for one more cup.

"Could you add some of that hazelnut syrup?" she asked. "Oh, and a squirt of whipped cream."

"So much for sugar free and fat free," her friend quipped.

"You're right," Nina said. "Why stop there. Might as well clog my gut with some gluten. I'll take this last strawberry tart."

I finished assembling the coffee and pulled out the tart.

I looked up at the man. He must have been six foot plus because I had to crane my neck. "Would you like anything?"

"No, I think that'll do it." He tossed a fifty dollar bill next to my cash register.

I rang him up and reached in the cash drawer for change. "Keep it." He winked just before pulling his sunglasses back over his emerald eyes.

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