“And you didn’t grab it?”
“No, because if I’d taken it, he’d have known it was me,” she gritted out, wrenching her arm free. “But don’t worry, I have a plan.”
The way she said it didn’t inspire much confidence. “Tell me more about this so-called plan.”
She didn’t respond, only continued forward through the college courtyard. The campus stank of sexual desire. I could smell the lust all over these hormonal nerds and jocks. Booths lined the open courtyard on both sides, and students badgered their peers to join different cults. Clubs. I meant clubs.
My gaze drifted to the three blondes in short skirts standing at a table, handing out flyers for an upcoming event. I took one and winked, earning a shy giggle from the group.
“Are you in one of these things?” I asked Lyra, shoving the paper in her face.
“A sorority?” She huffed out a laugh. “No, I can barely function as it is. I have zero time for extracurricular activities. I actually have negative time to get all my shit done.” She stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact with the other students. She sped up her pace, uncaring that I fell a few paces behind. For having such little legs, she moved pretty damn quickly.
The ivy-covered walls and old stone buildings turned to concrete ones the further we got from campus. Dense waterlogged clouds loomed above the town as Lyra stopped in front of a white building with a black and white striped awning. Fran’s Bakery was written in big black letters on the front of the store.
“A bakery?” I questioned.How else was the witch going to waste my time?
“I need to pick up a few things for tonight,” she said, pulling hard on the door. It didn’t open.
“Try pushing.”
“Thanks, I don’t think I would have tried that next.”
Lyra pushed the door, leaning against the glass to hold it open for a group of rowdy guys all dressed like they were about to embark on their daddy’s yacht. They held small white boxes and nodded to Lyra in thanks, continuing to make a ruckus as they walked down the street.
The black and white checkered tile inside made it look like the patrons were playing a life-size game of chess, moving around the game board as they made their way through the line. There wasn’t much to the place, only a few tables and two glass cases at the front by the register.
“They have the best desserts in all of Inglewood.” Lyra’s eyes lit up as she spoke.
“Hi, honey,” the elderly woman behind the counter greeted her with a welcoming smile.
“Fran, I have a huge order. Please forgive me.”
The gray-haired woman pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her crooked nose. She must have been the owner, based on the name of the bakery.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head. I spoke with Kenna on the phone earlier, and she warned me about the order.”
“Great!” Lyra exclaimed as she examined the display cases. She leaned closer, looking like she was about to lick the glass by the way she salivated over the sweets.
Fran, got ready to scribble down the order on a notepad. “I’m ready whenever you are, honey.”
“Okay… I’ll take a dozen of the apple tarts, three dozen chocolate chip cookies, two dozen vanilla cupcakes, and a dozen chocolate cupcakes.” Lyra ticked off the order on her fingers.
“I’ll also add some of those apple cider donuts you love so much,” Fran said, continuing to write.
Lyra must be a regular.
“Ah, thank you, Franny.”
“What about your friend over there?” She pointed an arthritis riddled finger in my direction.
“Do you want anything?” Lyra asked, prying her attention away from the display. “Because you’re not touching any of mine.”
“No,” I said curtly. “Thanks,” I added with a slight shake of my head.
“All right, this will take a little bit for me to package up. I started working on it this morning, but give me an hour or two, and everything should be ready.”
Lyra dug through her purse, pulled out a small black wallet and handed over a credit card.
