Page 2 of Crave

“Can’t. I’ll be here for twelve hours then I have shit to do.”

“What shit is so damn important you’re turning down my mother’s invitation?”

JD is normally an open book, but lately, he’s been rather secretive.

“Personal shit. I didn’t call you so we can gossip like a couple of girls. I only called to warn you not to act like a dick tonight. It’s your mom’s birthday. Act accordingly, fuckhead.”

Irritated by his words, I toss my phone across the room and watch as it lands on the couch. I take my mug of hot coffee, walk over to the living room area, and set it on the coffee table before dropping myself on the couch, one arm across my face.

The dogs come running to me, Zeus leading the charge. He approaches my lying form and sniffs my face before he attempts to climb the couch. Lady starts to yelp before she jumps on the couch.

“I can always count on you two,” I say as I scratch Lady behind her ear.

CHAPTER 2

SANDY

“I thought this was Steve’s job, Mama.”

I look at myself in the full length mirror as I prepare for our monthly girls’ night. I frown at myself, not liking how I look in the drab gray top and black moto pants. I take off the top, toss it somewhere in my room and return to my closet. I put my phone on speaker so I can still talk to my mom as I flip through the items in my closet.

My eyes land on a hot pink off-shoulder long-sleeved shirt. I put it on with my pants and frown again. This just isn’t right. At five feet seven inches tall, I prefer longer tops with these tight pants.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as my mother attempts to guilt trip me. I take off my pants and look for different bottoms as she continues to speak. “Your cousin is out chasing some girl. I don’t know what this world is coming to when all these young men do is chase after women.”

“A young, straight man interested in women. Whoever could have seen that coming?” I let out a laugh.

“Don’t be fresh. I can’t count on my daughter to help me?”

“I helped you today by working for free for four hours. You wouldn’t need help if you’d just hire someone, Mama.”

“The bakery is a family business. It’s just a delivery, Deedee. Do this for your mother,” she cajoles. She knows that when she calls me Deedee, she can get me to do anything.

“Fine, but I’m meeting the girls for dinner later, so it has to be soon. And you owe me because you know I don’t like driving that damn delivery van.”

After chastising me for using the word damn, she gives me some more instructions before I hang up.

I find a short, black leather skirt and put that on with my hot pink shirt. I look through my impressive shoe collection and decide on a pair of black ankle boots. After another look in the mirror, my frown is replaced with a slight smile.Much better, I think to myself, as I smooth the imaginary wrinkles out of my shirt. I admire the way the hot pink compliments my brown skin.

“Shit,” I say as I notice the time. It doesn’t take me long to brush my curly hair. I find a headband with different shades of pink flowers and put it in my hair in order to keep the curls away from my face.

After some eye makeup and lip gloss, I grab my keys and make my way outside.

“Remember what I told you,” my mother says to me for the tenth time. “These are very important clients, Deedee.”

“I know, Mama.”

My mother owns a bakery with her sister, and a few months ago, she met a very prominent family. The Clark family owns and operates a rental business and the matriarch of the family, Lilian Clark, met my mother at a networking event. She loved my mother’s desserts so much, she hired her to cater Clark Enterprise’s Christmas party. My mother now caters most of their business lunches and all of their private parties. “You don’t have to worry. I know how to behave around the well to do.” I use my best British accent to say the last part. When she first told me about them, I assumed theirs was a small family owned business. I was right about it being family owned, but totally wrong about it being small. They are huge throughout the entire east coast and cater to businesses and very rich individuals.

“You really should consider replacing Steve, Mama,” I say as she follows me to the van. My mother and her sister started this bakery ten years ago. Aunt Claudette takes care of the business side of things, and my mother handles the baked goods. She’s such a perfectionist that she bakes most of the items herself, including this four-tier birthday cake that’s currently in the delivery van right now.

“I’m not getting rid of my nephew. He’s my sister’s son, Deedee. That makes him practically my son.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works, Mama.”

“Oh? And you’re an expert?” She raises both eyebrows, daring me to contradict her.

“My nursing degree kind of makes me somewhat knowledgeable in such things. Not claiming to be an expert, though.”

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