“Malyah,this is so good. Your hands are magical,” Anika, a coworker I’d become cool with, said.
Last night, I was inspired to make mini cheesecakes with crushed Biscoff cookies for the crust and a special mix I’d created using Biscoff cookie butter as a part of the filling. My boyfriend, Cole, loved it, so I made enough for the staff and brought them to work.
“Thank you. I’m glad everyone is enjoying it.”
“Girl, please. Every time you bring us a dessert, it disappears within minutes. I don’t know why you don’t start selling them.”
“Because I don’t want to get fired. I’m sure the company has a non-compete clause.”
I worked in the corporate office forSweet, Savory, and Goode, a popular Black-owned dessert chain across Illinois, based in Chicago. They made the most delicious desserts in the city, and I aspired to work for them as a pastry chef someday.
For now, I worked as their head cook and was responsible for coming up with and preparing the daily breakfast and lunch menus. I enjoyed my job because I loved being in the kitchen, and while I was a great cook in general, my passion was desserts.
“What you need to do is go to the boss’s office with one of these desserts and introduce yourself. After one bite, he’ll be offering you a promotion.”
“That sounds a little too easy. Things like that don’t happen to people like me. Nothing in my life has ever come that easy.”
Anika smacked her lips.
“Think positively, Malyah. You’re talented, and one day soon, your talent will be discovered. Mark my words. Registering for your classes yesterday is only the beginning.”
I pondered her words for a moment and prayed she was right. Sometimes, I felt like my life was a series of unfortunate events, and I was ready for something great to happen.
“I hope you’re right.”
“What’s all the commotion over here?” I heard a male voice ask.
When I spotted who it was, I almost panicked.
“Oh, shit. I gotta go.”
“Malyah, wait! Now’s your chance,” Anika called out, but she was talking to my back.
The voice I heard was Kenzo Goode III, the grandson of the man who started the company and the son of the man who currently ran it, who would soon be retiring so Kenzo III could take over. He was the last person I wanted to converse with about my dessert.
“Bye, Anika!”
I moved through the cafeteria swiftly until I made it to the kitchen and my small office in the back. I’d sworn the staff to secrecy and hoped no one ratted me out. I gathered my things and headed to the back door that led to the employee parking lot. A few minutes later, I was headed home.
Most days, after lunch, I stuck around for about an hour, doing one thing or another. I probably would’ve done the same today, but I didn’t want to chance Kenzo coming to find me. Hopefully, he’d forget all about the dessert by the time he left for the day.
It wasn’t that I didn’t think he would enjoy my desserts, because they were good, but I needed them to be better than anything he’d ever tasted. At least once a week, I went to the company website to read the job description for a pastry chef. I didn’t think the requirements would change, but it was a reminder of what I had to do to qualify for that position.
Sweet, Savory, and Goodecould have been nationwide, but chose not to expand outside Illinois to maintain the quality and integrity of what they offered. Some might not understand why the owners chose not to have locations in multiple states, but I did, and I appreciated it.
By the time I made it home, my bladder was about to explode. I parked in my designated parking spot and rushed into the building, then up two flights of stairs to the unit I shared with my roommate.
After letting myself in, I dropped my purse by the door and hurried into the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time. I blew out a breath and sighed with relief as I emptied my bladder.
A few minutes later, I washed my hands and retraced my steps back to the front door to get my purse. I dug my phone out of the bottom and called Cole but was startled when I faintly heard ringing in our living room.
I followed the sound and found his phone between the couch cushions. Baffled as hell, I ended my call and looked around the apartment, wondering why his phone would be here, but he wasn’t, . . . or was he?
The thought of going through his phone crossed my mind, but I didn’t want to waste the time or energy. If Cole were in this apartment right now, there was only one place he could be, so I quietly crept to my roommate’s bedroom and placed my ear against the door.
Janie worked third shift and arrived home shortly after I left each morning. Cole and I left together, and as far as I knew, he was headed to work. The only reason his phone would be in here was if he circled back when Janie arrived home.
Slowly, I turned the doorknob and peeked through the crack. When my suspicions were confirmed, I pushed the door open with every ounce of strength in me, and it slammed against the wall. As soon as Cole sat up, I aggressively threw his phone at his face and was grateful my aim was spot on.
