Chapter 2
Aiden
I was icing the last few cupcakes when Cass walked into the back room. I looked up, smiled, then looked back down to the cupcake. I was keeping it simple with a nice swirly top for this one, but I still didn’t want to mess any up. Not that the staff complained when that happened, because Cass let them eat any of the ones I deemed imperfect for selling.
He waited until I was done before he spoke. “Those look new.”
“Yup,” I answered, taking the icing bag over to the sink. “Apple cinnamon cupcakes stuffed with real apples, and a vanilla buttercream frosting with a hint of cinnamon.”
Cass walked over and took one, unwrapping it and taking a bite. His groan of pleasure made me flush with pride. I was glad they had turned out well; I’d tried a few different recipes before I’d settled on this one. I’d done them mostly at home, because I hated to waste Cass’s supplies on things that wouldn’t work for sales.
I finished washing out the icing bag and the frosting tip, and Cass finished his cupcake. Usually he left at that point, but he sat down at a stool by the prep table instead.
“Are they ok?” I asked.
“They’re excellent. Perfect. They’ll sell out in no time, and people will be clamoring for more. Just like they do with everything you make. You were really a five star chef at a pastry shop in Paris or something, weren’t you?” he joked.
I blushed at the praise and shrugged. “No formal training and no classes. I just always loved baking, and I did it a lot before… you know. I like trying new stuff out, and believe me, it isn’t always a success. But baking is sort of my happy place, I guess. And I watch a lot of baking shows, so I get tips from them.”
“So, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I hired you at a barista’s salary, and you make the same amount as Q and our other full time baristas.”
Yeah, he had hired me to work up front, but once I’d come in, I’d ended up hiding in the kitchen most days, and I’d sort of slowly taken over doing the baking from the assorted employees who took turns doing it. I basically never stepped foot out front now.
I blushed, embarrassed. “Of course, Cass, I get it. I’m not really doing the job you hired me for. Honestly, I don’t think working out front will really work for me, so I get it if you need to cut my salary.”
“No! That isn’t what I meant at all!” he insisted, raising his hands like he was trying to stop me from running off.
I just laughed. “It’s ok, Cass. I probably don’t work as many hours as most of the baristas anyway, and I know I kind of make my own hours. If you want me on a stricter schedule or whatever?—”
Cass cut me off. “Aiden, since you started baking for us, do you know what’s happened for the shop financially?”
“Well, I do use a lot of supplies and order a lot more than before, so I’m sure your supply orders have gone up in price. But really, those pre-made cookies and that muffin mix wasn’t that great.” I made a face in memory. I guessed it had sufficed, and customers had obviously liked it ok, but I really hoped we weren’t going back to that crap.
Cass looked up at the ceiling in exasperation before he focused on me. “Aiden, our sales for bakery items have more than tripled. In fact, our overall sales have skyrocketed. We were just a coffee shop. Now people think of us as a coffee shop and bakery. Do you know I’ve had people asking about special orders?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t known that.
“Well, that’s something we can talk about eventually, if you’re interested, but my point is that you’ve been amazing for business. People adore your food, and the shop’s profits have drastically increased since I hired you. Which brings me to your salary. You’re making a barista’s salary, but you really should be making a head baker’s salary. I’d like to rectify that.”
I just stared at Cass in confusion. “You want to pay me more?”
“Yes, exactly. I want to give you a raise,” he said, smiling.
“But I don’t think I should make more than Q,” I answered.
Cass gave me a look. “Q makes coffee, purposely gets people’s names wrong, and gives the customers attitude. You bake marvelous concoctions that have people flocking here.”
I smiled. “I don’t know. I hear the customer chatter. I think they flock here for Q’s attitude, too.”
Cass laughed a little. “Maybe so, but you deserve a baker’s salary.”
“I’ll talk about it with Q,” I answered.
I didn’t know how he’d feel if I made more than him. Q’s feelings were way more important to me than money. He had become my family in every way that mattered. Yes, we had trauma that bonded us, even if he thought his trauma wasn’t as severe as mine. It didn’t matter. We both knew there were horrible people in the world who would do horrible things to us. Maybe we started a bond with that, but we pushed each other to be better people, and we really loved each other. He was the brother I never had.
Besides, what did we even need money for? Maybe it was naive to think that way, but we lived in Liam’s back house (which used to be a pool house) rent free (despite trying to pay rent). Liam or Jude bought us groceries half the time, and someone paid for our phones. I still wasn’t even sure who. Maybe it was Cass and Kushiel, or maybe it was Liam and the guys. I almost smiled thinking about them arguing over who got the privilege of paying our bills.
Maybe my wealthy upbringing had made me cavalier about money, but I also had a few hidden stashes if I needed them for some reason. And I would share those with Q if he needed them, too. Not that I saw that happening. He and Liam were attached at the hip, and I got the impression that Liam had plenty of money.
Cass rolled his eyes. “Aiden, that isn’t how this is supposed to work. You don’t negotiate whether or not you get a raise. You negotiate how much of a raise you want.”
“I’ll talk about it with Q,” I repeated.
“Q! Get back here!” Cass yelled.
Q made his way through the door, scowling. Before Cass could comment, Q said, “Listen, I don’t know what that guy said, but I did not spit in his cup, even if he deserved to have his coffee spit in for that comment.”
Cass rubbed his forehead.
“He was an asshole, and honestly, you don’t need business from someone like that,” Q added.
I laughed and Cass looked up to the sky, muttering to himself.
“Cass wants to pay me a baker’s salary,” I finally said.
Q raised his eyebrows. “Well, it’s about damn time. You work your ass off. You should make more money.”
Cass nodded his head. “See, I told you.” He looked at Q then. “He didn’t want to take a raise without talking to you.”
Q just rolled his eyes, then Steph called his name from the front of the shop, and he scowled before storming out of the kitchen.
“I better get out there and keep them from killing each other,” Cass said, but he was smiling as he walked out.
I had a feeling that I was going to get a raise whether I wanted one or not. I finished cleanup from the cupcakes, and just as I was putting the last of the dishes away, Q stuck his head in the kitchen door and told me that Jude was out front. Q had started work later, so he’d get a ride home later—probably from Liam.
I felt a little bad that the guys had to drive us around, and I thought again of getting a car or using one of theirs. I had a driver’s license, and I assumed Q did as well. We were fully capable of driving.
But… I didn’t really like to be alone. Which was ironic, because I didn’t really like to be around people either. At least not around people I didn’t know, and the thought of driving to work alone, parking, and walking to the shop by myself… Well, all sorts of things could happen to a person on their way to or from work. I knew that only too well.
I walked out of the kitchen, and Jude waved to me, coffee cup in hand. We walked out to the car and got in, and he pulled out and made what was probably an illegal U-turn.
“You’re a menace,” I said.
He looked over at me and winked before turning back to the road. “Baby, you wanna drive my car?”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. It was always fun to figure out when Jude was quoting the Beatles versus actually just having a conversation.
I was quiet then, and he hummed along to the radio, which was, of course, playing the Beatles.
When we were almost home, he asked, “Rough day?”
I shrugged when he glanced over at me.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked as we pulled into the driveway. He stopped the car and looked at me.
“I’m ok. Some days are just harder than others. I’ll go bake some more then take a walk to clear my head,” I answered.
We both got out of the car. It was cold, but not freezing. The sun provided some warmth.
“Want some company for the walk?” Jude asked.
I looked at him. He was just wearing a t-shirt even though it was maybe forty-five degrees out. I raised an eyebrow at him.
“What? I like walks!” he insisted. “I won’t even sing the Beatles the whole time, I promise.”
“You’ll freeze in just a t-shirt,” I pointed out.
He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.
“Besides,” I added, “I’ll have Fluffy to keep me company.”
Jude sprayed coffee out of his mouth, sputtering and choking.
“Wrong pipe?” I asked, patting him on the back.
He sputtered a little more before he choked out, “Fluffy?”
“Ah, yeah, sorry. Liam seemed kind of surprised by the nickname, too, but I didn’t know what you named your guard dog, and Fluffy seemed appropriate,” I answered, feeling a little nervous.
Fluffy had pretty much become my emotional support animal, and he seemed to really understand me, but no one ever talked about him. I reasoned that pets always did seem connected to us, but… what if he were, like, a figment of my imagination?
I knew I could just ask the guys and they’d answer me, and they wouldn’t judge, but I was kind of afraid of the answer. If he was a figment of my imagination, I didn’t really want to know.
Hey, if I was hallucinating and creating an imaginary friend, I figured a huge fluffy dog wasn’t a bad thing as far as hallucinations went.
“Fluffy,” Jude muttered again, looking at me.
I laughed self-consciously. “I’m sure his name is something like Terror or Killer, but he’s really such a sweetheart, and he always walks with me. I hope I haven’t offended you guys or something by naming your guard dog.”
Jude was just staring at me, but not like I was crazy and had made him up. I stuck my hands in my pocket awkwardly. Was Jude angry? Was he going to… I breathed out. Jude was safe. Jude wouldn’t hurt me.
“Hey, it’s ok,” he said softly, noticing my distress. “I was just… surprised. You can call him Fluffy if you want.”
I nodded my head.
He chuckled a little, “Fluffy. That’s kind of hysterical. I love it.”
I felt my tension drain a bit, and I laughed a little. “Like I said, probably absurd, but…” and I just shrugged.
Jude smiled. “You ok?” he asked softly. “You want me to call Q?”
I breathed in deeply and then back out, focusing on myself. Was I ok? I had gotten scared for a moment, but I was safe, and I knew Jude wouldn’t hurt me. I would go bake something, and then I would go take a walk and see Fluffy.
“Yeah, I’m ok. Thank you, Jude.”
He nodded and started walking toward my door. I appreciated the gesture. He wouldn’t come in if I didn’t ask him to, but he’d make sure I got in and locked the door behind me. Not that I felt unsafe here. There were cameras all over the place, including in our apartment (but not in my bedroom or the bathroom), and there was a security system.
Liam was kind of… well, calling him psychotic probably wasn’t nice. When it came to Q’s safety, he was really overboard, but Q didn’t seem to mind. It took some getting used to thinking about a camera in the living room, but Liam had turned the sound off, and he didn’t watch it regularly. He was sort of like our roommate anyway, so I just thought of it as him being there watching tv or something and half paying attention. Probably weird, but oh well.
I understood why Q didn’t mind the cameras. It made me feel safer too. If one of us went missing, people would notice. People would see who took either of us. I knew the guy who took me was dead, but I still worried. What if he had friends? What if someone was after Q? What if someone tried to take one of us again?
I felt safe here, and I felt safe with these guys. Most of the time, at least.
I got to the door and opened it, and Jude shot me a wave goodbye, obviously sensing I needed some alone time.
I breathed out a sigh and went to sit on the couch. The house was too quiet, and I felt lonely, but the thought of being with people was… exhausting. My life was ironically pathetic. Being alone in a room for a year… it had fucked me up.
Sure, I saw my kidnapper. But towards the end, he wasn’t really interested in me anymore. He had moved on to stalking Toby, and he “broke up” with me. I had a mini-fridge, food, and an enclosed bathroom in the bedroom I was locked in, so I could be left alone for days before he’d bring supplies and spend time with me.
I had actually looked forward to his visits at the end. It hurt my chest to think that, but I had.
And now, the thought of being alone… it was terrifying. It brought back that room. I had spent so much time alone. But at the same time, being with people was just so utterly draining. They always expected something. I was always reading into every word, every nuance of body language, every shift in movement. My therapist said that was a normal reaction, because I had learned to do that with the guy who took me. She said eventually I would trust people again and wouldn’t be so on edge.
It was exhausting, though. I put my head in my hands and breathed, closing my eyes. Focus on things in your control. Find a happy place for yourself. That’s what my therapist would tell me. I thought about going out and finding Fluffy—he made me happy. I was planning to bake, though, and I thought that maybe I should try out a recipe for a homemade dog biscuit. It would be nice to give Fluffy a treat. He gave me so much without even realizing it, and I wanted to give him something back.
It gave me focus, and I got up and headed into the kitchen. I rifled through the cabinets, pulling out oats, peanut butter, and an unopened jar of unsweetened applesauce. We had eggs in the fridge, and I knew all those ingredients were safe for dogs. I opened up a drawer that had random baking supplies. Cass had gifted me a bunch of cookie shapes awhile ago, and I thought…
Yup! I pulled out one shaped like a dog bone. Perfect. I was sure I could come up with a good recipe for a treat for Fluffy. I turned on a playlist on my phone as I began assembling ingredients. I was looking forward to bringing my new friend a treat.