“He hurt her.” I’m not going to blab to Logan about Gia’s past. Those are not my secrets to tell. But I feel responsible for what happened to her all those years ago. The helplessness I feel over not helping her is eating away at me.

“In what way did he hurt her? And what are you going to do to him?”

I ignore his questions. “Look him up and give me his contact info.”

He wiggles the mouse and the monitor flickers to life. He starts typing on the black keyboard. “The bastard lives in DC. He was in and out of juvie but got his shit together before college. He graduated from NYU with a degree in communications and has five domestic charges and an out-of-date restraining order.” Logan scribbles his address on a notepad and hands it to me.

“Be careful and call me if some shit goes down,” he says, and I get up from the chair and exit his office.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Gia

Please, like my cake.

Please, like my cake.

Please, like my cake.

I chant this to myself as I rest the Oreo cake on the white countertop and my hand shakes excessively.

I stayed up all night baking different types of cake until I found the right one. Everyone loves Oreos. Baking is like sculpting; you bake until you get a shape and form that you will like and if you don’t have all the tools and ingredients, then it won’t turn out right.

Just like any masterpiece, it takes a lot of work to get perfection.

I have an interview with two sisters, London and Paris. Both of them are in their late sixties or early seventies with thinning white hair and wrinkled, reddish skin. They opened up Sandi’s Cupcakes thirty years back in honor of their mom, who used to love to bake. I could live in this place. Different varieties of sweet treats decorate the countertops and pictures of cupcakes decorate the pale yellow wall. This place is as peaceful as watching a sunset.

Butterflies swim in my stomach. My gaze clings to them as they cut a slice and bite into it. I’ve never been so excited and nervous at the same time. I bite down on my lip just to keep from saying the stupid fact.

Paris, who has her hair in a neat bun, eats a whole slice before she beams at her sister.

“Congratulations, you’re hired.”

“Thank you so much!” I say, clapping excitedly.

London clears her voice. “Now, let’s get to business.”

Paris rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “My sister has always been so serious about everything.”

“This business is important, Paris. That’s your problem, you never take anything seriously.”

Paris straightens her spine. London’s hair flows down her shoulders. Both of them have eyes of a faded, dull brown.