Kiss My Cupcake(2)

“Everything okay?” Her expression shifts to concern as she quickly covers the wound with a Band-Aid.

“Oh yeah, you know how it is. I woke up at three because I needed to use the bathroom and my brain wouldn’t shut off. Then I got another idea for opening day cupcakes so I figured I’d make a test batch while drinking an entire pot of coffee.”

She glances at the adorable cupcake clock on the wall. “So you’ve been up since three?”

“Mm hmm. And of course my dad called this morning with another one of his amazing ideas.”

She grimaces. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“What wonderful suggestions did he have this time?” Daphne is aware of my parents’ constant push for me to join the family business. I love them, and they’ve worked hard to get where they are, but their dreams and mine don’t line up. They love sautéing and roasting and hobnobbing with the rich and famous. I love butter and sugar and vanilla and not hobnobbing.

I give her the abridged version.

“And how did the conversation end?”

“All I said was that I’d think about it.”

“You did not!”

I hold up a hand. “I’m not honestly going to think about it, Daph, but I also didn’t feel like listening to an hour-long lecture on why being part of the family business would be better for me. I know exactly what will happen if I go back to working with my family. I won’t have a say in anything. They’ll take over the whole thing and change it from my cocktails and cupcakes theme into something ridiculous and highbrow. They’ll strip me of all decision-making power, pooh-pooh all of my ideas, and I’ll get to watch my dream go up in flames.” It sounds dramatic, but it’s not. My family is well-intentioned but pushy. “I didn’t work this hard just to go back to kobe beef and duck fat truffle fries.” Not that there’s anything wrong with either. I enjoy eating both, but I don’t enjoy preparing them the way my family does.

“Okay. That’s good. I was worried there for a second.” Daphne sheds her thin cardigan and hops lithely up onto the bar top. I finally notice her outfit; she’s dressed in a pair of pale yellow jeans and a light-gray shirt with Buttercream and Booze in silver and blue letters across her chest.

“Oh my God! The shirts came in!” My volume is far too loud for the early hour, but my excitement cannot be contained. “I need to take a picture.” I pat my hips, but my phone is in my purse, which is sitting on the table where I left it. I raise a single finger. “Hold on! I need my phone. Or maybe I should get the good camera. And we need a cupcake. Actually, we should stage a bunch of photos.”

“Blaire.” Daphne grabs my wrist. “Take a breath or six and chill the eff out.”

“But we need a picture. One for our Instagram. Oh! We should host a T-shirt giveaway!”

“Done and done. I posted half an hour ago and it’s already in our stories and on our Facebook page and posted to the website. Social media managed.” She says the last part with a British accent, mimicking “mischief managed” from Harry Potter. We’re both huge fans. Sometimes we have weekend movie marathons despite having seen the films quite literally a hundred times. Don’t judge. There are worse addictions.

Daphne is a photographer and has her own business a couple of blocks down. She opened her studio last year and I was right there with her, helping in whatever way I could. Unlike B&B, her place didn’t need too much work, but I was there with a paintbrush and moral support. I even brought the Cupcakes to Go! truck on opening day to help entice new clients with sweet treats.

Daphne’s actually the person who told me about this place. She’s also been kind enough to help get all of my social media up and running. Currently, I pay her in cupcakes since I can’t afford much else in the way of compensation. She’s assured me this is a great addition to her portfolio and if Buttercream and Booze takes off she’ll most definitely benefit. I squeeze her hand. “You are so amazing.”

“I know. It’s one of the many reasons I’m your bestie.” She winks. “Now open the damn box so we can get excited about something else and you can freak out about more potential Insta posts.”

“Right! Yes!” I take one of those deep breaths Daphne suggested because I’m speaking like I’ve mainlined cocaine after drinking seventeen Red Bulls and everything I say is punctuated with an exclamation mark. “Calming myself before I get more excited,” I mutter as I open the flaps. That calm lasts about a quarter of a second and then I’m back to excited freak-out.

“They are so much fun!” I gently free one of the unicorn martini glasses from the box. “Aren’t they the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen?”

“They are absolutely the most adorable things I have seen.” Daphne bites her lip, obviously fighting laughter.

“Well, I think they’re perfect.” I can already imagine the specialty martini and the cupcakes I’ll make to go with them. The glasses were a little expensive, and slightly outside of my budget, but they’re so much fun and they’ll look amazing in photos for social media posts.

“I wholeheartedly agree. You should display a few up there.” She motions to the shelf adjacent to the bar that showcases a row of candy-inspired martini glasses.