Fake It Till You Bake It(10)
Too bad she’d never found that thing that was hers. She didn’t even know if it existed. She wasn’t that great at anything. When she thought about it too long, that grating voice inside her head never failed to whisper, “You’re dumb, that’s why.”
Panic welled up inside her, seizing every muscle in her body into a tight-fisted clench, cutting off her ability to breathe, but she beat it back. Barely. She forced her lips to move. “I understand.”
“Great.” Grams’s voice softened. “I’m not doing this to punish you. I want the best for you.”
Jada squeezed her eyes shut. “I know.” The ultimatum sounded mean, but Jada understood. Grams did believe in her. She just didn’t understand the pressure she’d unwittingly placed on her granddaughter.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. I expect you to have a plan. If you don’t, one will be provided for you. See you at 10 A.M., my office.”
That wasn’t a request.
Jada’s grip on the phone tightened. She needed the anchor, any anchor, even as small as it was. “Of course. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Hmmph. You have a funny way of showing it.” That was Grams. Show love, but take no shit.
“I love you, Grams. I’ll be there in the morning.” Jada ended the call and pressed unsteady palms against her eyelids.
She had less than twenty-four hours to come up with a life plan that would satisfy the person she most wanted to make proud and keep herself from becoming penniless. No biggie. Collapsing against the sofa cushions, she let out a loud, gusty sigh. Oh, God. Where was a cupcake to stuff her face with when she needed it most?
Chapter Three
A slow movie clap greeted Donovan the moment he stepped through the Sugar Blitz front door the next morning. Oh, fuck.
“Y’all can cut that shit out any time now,” he said to his two best friends/business partners.
Thankfully they did, but their twin smirks remained.
“Well, well, if isn’t the ambassador of customer goodwill,” Nicholas Connors said.
Donovan glared at the man he’d known for the past seven years. They’d officially met when the hotshot running back showed up to training camp, positive he was going to run roughshod through the league—until Donovan had laid him flat during his first play in practice. “Good morning to you, too.”
Nicholas spread his hands wide and laughed. “Hey, I’m just repeating what I heard. And what I heard was ah-ma-zing!”
“I can only imagine.” Donovan transferred his glare to Ella, who became engrossed in filling napkin holders at the front counter. He turned to the other member of their best friend triumvirate. “Do you have anything to add?”
August Hodges shook his head. “Naw, man.”
Donovan wasn’t surprised. August was a man of few words who truly believed and lived the adage that actions spoke louder than words. There was no one else Donovan would rather have watching his back. August was the team’s fullback, the one who went in headfirst after the ball was snapped to block for running backs. He’d been through some tough shit, but still stood tall and came to work his ass off every day, first for the team and now for the cupcake shop.
They’d met as college freshmen football players, both anxious to prove they belonged, and immediately bonded. During those early days, Donovan had been an offensive lineman responsible for blocking for fullbacks like August before the coaches realized his talents would be better served on the other side of the ball. Then, four years later, they’d both been drafted by the Knights.
“He might not have anything to say, but he definitely has something to do.” Nicholas held out his palm toward August.
Donovan knew what that meant. They’d made a stupid bet. He knew because he partook in the practice himself on the regular with these two. That didn’t mean he liked it when he was the subject of a wager. “What the hell did you two bet on?”
“Whether you would show up on your day off,” Nicholas answered, glee infusing every word. Donovan rolled his eyes while August pulled out a black leather wallet from his back pocket, took out a twenty, and slapped it into Nicholas’s waiting hand.
That matter settled, August turned his attention back to Donovan. “We can handle things,” he said, his voice filled with its usual gruffness, like he was unused to speaking. An accurate description, really.
“I know,” Donovan said. And he meant it. “I only planned to stop in for a few minutes to fill you in on what happened yesterday, but obviously someone beat me to it.” August had the day off and Nicholas had already left after spending the early morning baking before the incident. “I’m going to see Mrs. T and get some advice about how we can boost sales.”
“So you’re not taking the day off.” Nicholas sighed his disgust. Not that he wasn’t a hard worker. He was the best running back in the league. Talent alone hadn’t gotten him there.
When Nicholas was drafted by San Diego a year after Donovan and August, he’d glued himself to August’s side, wanting to build a rapport with the man who would make his life easier on the football field. Which meant he was always there whenever Donovan turned around. Donovan had eventually warmed up to him when he saw his commitment to the team and dedication to his family and community. Now, he couldn’t imagine life without the man others had dubbed “Pretty Boy Nick.”