Page 25 of Bloody Quarter

Yanking open Molisano’s door, I walked in and was happy that music was playing to mask the growl of my stomach at the scent of fresh baking. I longingly stared at the glass cases full of fresh puff pastries, hot biscuits, and everything in between.

“Alora, good to see you,” Mr. Molisano said as he came out with a tray of fresh beignets. I licked my lips, and he laughed. “You want one?”

My cheeks heated with embarrassment that I was that obvious. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Here, take two,” he said, holding the tray closer for me. They were still warm, and I ate the first one so fast that I barely tasted it.

“Thank you,” I said after swallowing the mouthful of food. Mr. Molisano put the tray on the shelf and then wiped his hands as he walked toward me.

“Tell me honestly, Alora, when was the last time you ate?”

“A few days. But I have access to food. It’s just that it’s been stressful, and I forget to eat.”

He gave me a scolding look. “Our minds don’t work well when we’re hungry. How are you going to learn to bake the custom cupcake tower I have an order for if you are not at a hundred percent?”

“You’re right. I…wait, did you just say you want me to help bake today?”

He smiled wide, and giddiness pushed aside all my concerns. “I did. I’ll need you to help with the counter during the afternoon rush, but otherwise, yes. This will be a good one for you to do as the decorating is half the fun. They want whipped icing, molded chocolate hearts, and fresh berries on the top. There are also four flavors of cupcake, so lots of practice for you.”

“Thank you. I’m so excited for this opportunity.” For just a moment, I was a teen again, excited about the prospect of what my life and future held for me, but also scared to dream.

“Well, come on in and get washed up.”

I’d never gotten changed and washed up so fast. Six hours in, my arms were sore, and I’d eaten way too much raw batter, but I was still riding the same earlier high. The other chefs had their own things to do, but everyone was nice, and Mr. Molisano had the patience of a saint. Other people might have hated the precision needed to bake a great anything, but not me. I made sure each ingredient was handled with the same care and accuracy. The best part of all was the decorating. Everything was in separate stages: batter making, cooking, cooling, and then decorating. Mr. Molisano had it down to a fine science. Timing each stage and moving seamlessly through the steps. It was like watching an orchestra and the conductor work effortlessly. That was who I wanted to be, and for the first time, I had a clear image of what I wanted for myself out of this life.

“Those look fabulous, Alora. You really have a gift,” Mr. Molisano said as he appraised my latest batch of decorated cupcakes. Each was identical, with a perfect swirl of icing and a candied blackberry. It was finished with a chocolate heart and gold shavings that made them shimmer. I loved the tweezer work of laying the gold down like I was creating miniature masterpieces.

“Thank you. I love doing this.”

“It shows. I hate to pull you away, but can you help up front while I finish up and box everything?”

“Of course.” Smiling, I pulled the apron off over my head, removed my hair net, and rolled my shoulders. Even with the taller decorating table, everything was going to ache tomorrow.

Pushing open the door to the front of the store, Kim, Deshawn, and Emily were attending people, and the line was all the way out to the sidewalk. Insanity. I waved the next person up, and it was an easy order of a dozen fruit tarts. Between the buzz of people and the flourish of activity, it was easy to fall into a rhythm.

“Next,” I called out, and a man stepped up to the counter while I popped open an empty box ready for the order. “How can I help….” The rest of the question was lost as I lifted my head. The world stopped spinning as I stared into the furious glare of Tammy’s father, Hank Landry. In a heartbeat, I was thrown back into the past. The last time that I saw this man, he was removed from court for yelling that I killed his baby girl.

“What the fuck are you doing out of prison?” There wasn’t much that could quiet a massive crowd, but those words sure did. “And working here? Do you have no class? You would’ve fucked out of town if you had even a single respectful bone in your body.” Each word he said got louder, and my anxiety ramped up along with it.

“Mr. Landry, I’m sorry, I….”

“Sorry? Sorry, won’t bring my dead daughter back,” he screamed, and each gasp and pair of eyes on me felt like another blow to my soul. I glanced around and took a step back from the glass case.

“What is going on out here?” Mr. Molisano’s deep voice boomed as he came out from the kitchen.

“Do you know that you’ve hired a murderer?”

Again, there was a collective gasp. Sweat trickled down my back as I fought off the tears and tried not to notice everyone staring at me.

Mr. Molisano put his hand on my shoulder and moved me back so that I was standing behind him.

“I know exactly who I hired, and you should get your facts straight.”

“I’m Tammy’s father,” Mr. Landry yelled, and even though I couldn’t see him, I could still feel his words like a physical punch to my stomach.

“I’m sorry for your loss. But you have no right to come into my establishment and make a scene like this. And you certainly do not have the right to attack one of my employees the way that you are. I’m going to ask you to leave now and not come back.” He put his hands on his hips, and even in his fifties, he was an imposing figure. My lip trembled, and the first drops of tears spilled free. I feverishly wiped at them as I held myself together. No one had ever stood up for me before, and I wasn’t sure I deserved his kindness or loyalty. Mr. Landry was right. I was a murderer. I’d killed his daughter, and I couldn’t take it back. I could never take it back.

“You’re really going to stand there and protect her after what she did? I’m blasting this all over social media. I can’t believe you willingly employ her.”