Healer of Love

Here are three things you need to know to live in Vegas; don’t fall in love with the tourists, never trust an Elvis impersonator and do not ever get involved with the Moretti family. The first two are easy enough to do, I mean how many tourists do stick around, good for a good time on a drink night but they always go back to their real life in the morning. It’s not tragic, it’s just Vegas baby. Keeping the first two rules has never been a problem for me, “Boss, you’ve got to go talk to Niamh, she’s killing me with all these new inventive recipes she keeps adding to the menu.” Zeke one of my pastry chef complains to me as I walk past his station in the large busy kitchen of my bakery, ‘Sugar & Spice’. That’s right, I think looking around the quiet chaos of the kitchen as everyone works in mechanical like order to prepare for the beginning of a new work day. This was my life I thought to myself once again. I’d actually managed to do it. Turned my dream into a reality. Three years ago I didn’t think it was possible. In just a few years, I Scarlet Rossi had a managed to win, ‘The taste of flavor’ one of the most popular pastry contest in the world which has brought fame to my little bakery. Making it into one of the most sought after bakeries in Las Vegas by both tourists and locals. At just twenty three years old, I’d built a business that was thriving– dare I say. I sigh satisfactorily as I glance around the kitchen once more, okay time to start the day. I put on my apron and head over to my station. “Alright Chefs, thirty to open, look alive everyone it’s going to be a busy day.” Entering the competition had always been a dream of mine. When I made it to the semi finals, I walked off the stage right into the arms of my crying mother. We had both sobbed for about an hour once we got home. It was a tough one, the other chefs– my competitors were as much as good as I was. I could hardly believe it. My mother said she only wished father had been here to see me, I hadn’t won but it felt like I had already. She must’ve told me how proud she was of me about fifty times that night. Winning the competition was a big deal, I knew it. But I didn’t know the effects that would come after. I went on tour and appeared on many other shows about baking, cooking and the likes. My very own taste of fame, being recognized in supermarkets and grocery stores by fans of the show. Shortly after I opened the bakery. It took the town by storm. We had teased it, promoted it. But none of us expected it to blow up that much. It was an overnight success with a waiting list as long as the line to the bathroom of a Vegas club on a Friday night. My friend Keith turned to me that night. “You’ve done it S, bloody hell, you’ve done it.” Excitement often times feels like you’re drunk on something, soaring high on the buzz. It gives this rush of adrenaline that can’t be replicated by any light beer. This was the type of excitement you got from the hard stuff. Maybe that was why many powerful men drank so much, forever chasing that buzz of your first brush with success. “f*****g hell,” Niamh cursed walking in, “those fuckers are here again, Scar.” Silence fell in the room clear as day as everyone involuntarily held their breath waiting for me to react. The visits were becoming more frequent and less friendly. It started as brief drop bus from the Morettis lawyer at first then lawyers later. Breaking my third rule, never get involved with the Morettis. I take of my apron and leave the kitchen, ready to deal with whatever unfortunate wind blew the Morettis to my doorstep on this day. It wasn’t the same one today. They had traded in the usual thin lady ring leader lawyer for a more tall and intimidating man. “Scarlet Rossi?” The man asked as I approached him. I nod and he replies, “.. you don’t look like much.” He gives me a once over taking in my 5’6 frame, not much of fat or muscles save for my curves in the right places they needed to be, with my long curly red hair, striking emerald green eyes that clashed with the fiery color of my hair, freckles around my cheeks. I’m guessing I did not look one bit intimidating to the tall, dark muscular man in front of me. In fact, I’m guessing I looked more of an easier target than anything. “You don’t look like much either.” I say with a sarcastic smile giving him the same once offer he had given me, making sure to take my time and let my eyes rove over him as slowly as possible to grate his nerves. The man laughs sarcastically and goes through the same process the other lawyers already had. We’d seen this about a hundred times in the bakery by now. The Moretti family sending in their lawyers to intimidate us into signing over her bakery in order for them to profit of it. It wasn’t always like this, after little brush with fame I decided that would be the perfect time to open the bakery and capitalize on the success. It was risky but I looked my winnings and savings and signed a five year lease on this space, business is booming and the bakery gets even more customers than it did around that time. It wasn’t just something set up by someone who won a contest anymore. Sugar & Spice had begun to make a name for it self in Vegas and around the country. That is, until they came along. Rumor had it that they were negotiating a casino deal– God knows that’s just what Vegas needs another one of those darned casinos, it was never enough. And due to the popularity of this location– because of Sugar & Spice mind you, they coveted this space. This in particular, I’d spent years building a reputation for my bakery in this particular spot and they just wanted to swoop in and take it all. Like it was nothing. The lawyers arrived, at first friendly trying to buy out my lease. Offering me spaces in other parts of town all ideally on Moretti land again. More than half this city was owned by the Morettis I didn’t want to be stubborn. I did want to leave, I do. But what’s to say they don’t do this again. Try and take from me just cause they felt like they could. I wasn’t trying to be stubborn but it weighed on me day and night. There was no where available that didn’t have a link to that godforsaken family. It was as though I was trapped. People like this don’t just go away after the first time. What if I leased with them again, in whatever space they’d give me, and that place became a popular hub again, would they kick me out? I tried to reason with them. Explain I couldn’t leave. Leaving would not only affect my business but it was almost risking everything I’d worked for this few years. But they just kept on coming growing more and more impatient with every visit. The last time the lawyers and my staff got into it. Most especially Mia and Niamh, Mia didn’t take it kindly being cursed out by Niamh and Niamh… she’s been waiting for an opportunity for a fight with them for so long the situation was too good for her to pass up. It almost led to the police having to be called. “Cute.” The man sneered. Rick was his name, following the regular protocol he stated that he had been sent as an associate by the Morettis blah blah… I pressed my finger to my temple wondering how much more lawyers they could send and how much patience it would take for me to go through this over and over. This particular one however, didn’t sit right with me, the clothes and appearance definitely fit the description of a lawyer but mannerisms and the utter disregard for professionalism didn’t fit the lawyer but, I already had a bad feeling about this one. “Look cupcake, I’m not like the others.” He continues, “I’m not here to beat around the bush. The Moretti family want this place and they hired me to get it from them because they know I can get the job done.” Huh, cupcake. How original. Haven’t heard that one before. “I suggest you vacate this place within the week for your own good.” He walks around the bakery touching the furniture and giving it a once over before he lets out a scoff and walks out, but not before giving me a dead stare. It seems the Morettis we’re getting desperate, hiring a thug instead of a lawyer to threaten me into giving in. There’s nothing more dangerous than a desperate predator.