Chapter Sixteen
1323 Words
Chapter Sixteen
The tables were covered with white cloth and there were ornamental flower arrangements at the center of each, spouting arum lilies in tall glass tubes. There were blue lights inset in the hard wood flooring, but they reminded Adalia of a spaceship rather than setting the tone for a classy wedding.
Still, it was their first wedding. To cater, of course, and she was overwhelmed with excitement. They’d spent hours preparing the tiered cake, garnishing it with realistic icing petals made from pure white fondant.
Everything was in cool blues and white, with a touch of silver for good measure. Adalia wrinkled her nose and turned from the swinging steel door that led into the kitchen. She strode to the freezer and checked the cake through its glass front, then pressed the digital button on the panel and ensured the temperature was exactly right.
Too hot and it would be melted, too cold and the guests would break their teeth on the bakery’s creation.
The wedding would begin soon, and Adalia was dressed appropriately in a slimming pale blue dress. She wanted to fit in, not stand out, but Trent was out there amidst the honored guests and it made her heart beat that much faster.
They’d prepared an extra dessert for the guests in case they didn’t want the wedding cake, and she stopped beside Jenny and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Everything going okay?” Adalia squeezed and Jenny shot her a smile brimming with confidence.
“Okay, hah, everything is perfect. The macaroons are flawless, blueberry filling is smooth, we’re totally waxed. This is going to impress a lot of people, Adalia.” Jenny folded her arms and looked around the gleaming kitchen at the other workers.
“And that means a lot more business,” Adalia replied. This was the beginning of a big business endeavor. Maybe she and Trent could start a name brand, as recognizable as Starbucks. Hope swelled in her chest.
“Cheesecakes out in five,” Jenny called, checking her silver watch.
Adalia patted her a last time then wandered off through the kitchen and out to take her seat at one of the tables in the reception area. Trent was nearby, chatting to an elderly gentleman in a suit and tie, but her place marker was right beside his. It was, unfortunately, right across from Michelle Van Heerden’s as well.
The woman sat there in her top heavy, blonde-haired glory. She raised a hand and twiddled her fingers at Adalia with a dead expression.
“Nice to see you’ve come up in the world,” Michelle said, dripping with sarcasm.
“Nice to see you haven’t,” Adalia shot back, but Van Heerden didn’t rise to the taunt. She simply smiled back and flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder to reveal the silky black number she had on underneath.
Trent strolled over and took a seat beside Adalia, then squeezed her hand gently. He leaned in and brushed her neck with his fingers. “I missed you.”
Michelle Van Heerden’s smile disappeared instantly.
Jenny appeared in the doorway and rolled the cake out, then positioned it in front of the guests, so they could ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’ appropriately.
The bride and groom entered the reception hall and the guests applauded them onto the wooden dance floor for their first dance as a married couple. A band struck a tune, man and wife clasped hands and stared into each other’s eyes, and Adalia’s insides went squirmy.
She’d never been wedding obsessed, but this kind of thing got to a girl. She swept a tear from under her eyelid and checked that Trent hadn’t seen. He hadn’t. He stared at a spot over her shoulder, face reddening and jaw clenched tight.
“What’s wrong?” Adalia whispered then waggled his arm. “Trent?”
He didn’t say a word and she spun in the white ladder back chair. DeShawn stood there, in his sweat-stained tank top and low slung jeans. He was sober as a judge, but angry as she’d ever seen him.
“Hey, b***h,” he yelled, and Adalia started. Guests turned, searching for the source of the commotion.
“Get him out of here, before I kill him,” Trent grunted. This was huge. This was an opportunity to impress other clients. Adalia scraped her chair back and stood, hurrying forward to face her ex-boyfriend.
“You think you can tell me what you gonna do and I just go wit’ it?” DeShawn uttered from spit-froth lips.
“This is not the time. You need to leave, now,” Adalia said, surveying the heads of the guests. Most of them watched the dancing couple with vapid smiles or tear-streaked cheeks. Some of the younger women dabbed at the corners of their eyes with silk napkins.
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” DeShawn yelled, and the band faltered mid-tune, then continued. Almost every head turned to them this time, including the bride and groom, who frowned and squinted.
This was a disaster.
“Get out of here,” she hissed, flapping her arms at him. She didn’t have the Taser or anything that could properly discourage him. Maybe he’d figured as much – how had he found her?
“f**k you!” DeShawn spat. “You can’t get away from me that easy.”
“Stop it, you can’t do this here. Let’s go into the kitchen where we can talk, calmly.” Adalia patted the air to soothe him. If she could get him out of the limelight, they’d be able to salvage the situation.
“I wanna talk, right here, right now.”
“Just keep your voice down, this is a wedding,” she whispered back.
DeShawn raised both of his middle fingers. “You’re a cheap ho! That’s all I gotta say to you.” Then he charged past her and up to the mountain of white fondant and cake that had taken over seventy-two hours to perfect.
“No!” Adalia shrieked, sprinting to catch up to him, but he was too far ahead.
The band quieted immediately, and the bride gasped, throwing a hand tipped in perfectly manicured fingernails up to cover her mouth. Trent jerked out his chair... Michelle Van Heerden let out a harsh giggle.
DeShawn grabbed fistfuls of the cake and tore into it, ripping it apart, and Adalia’s heart sank through the floor. They’d never recover from this. The bride screamed and actually stumbled backward on her heels. The groom caught her and held her upright.
Trent rushed for DeShawn. If he hit the wannabe dealer, it would be over for their business. The news would travel too fast in the right circles.
“Stop, don’t do it,” Adalia said, jumping into his path. She grabbed Trent by the upper arms and he halted his charge.
“You’re defending him?!” Trent’s nostrils were flared, his hair fell across his forehead and tufted with each forced exhalation.
“I’m defending us. If you hit him, it’s over, Trent. Come on. Think about this for a moment.” She darted left then right, blocking his attempts to get around her.
“I don’t want to think about anything. That bastard’s been up in our business for too long, now. This is the end. If you don’t end this, I’ll end him.”
Adalia spun and hurried up to the cake, which was already ruined, then grabbed her ex-boyfriend by the forearm. He flicked her off and almost elbowed her in the face, but she managed to dodge the blow.
“Stop this, you’ve made your point, it’s ruined. The entire wedding is ruined. Just stop it, DeShawn,” she half-yelled and half-pleaded with him, but he didn’t slow his scrunching.
The bride and groom figurines fell from the top and shattered on the silver plate. She’d handed crafted those in their likeness from actual dress rehearsal pictures.
“Snap out of it!” she demanded, making another grab for him.
DeShawn shoved with both hands and the cake splatted onto the dance floor, sending a cascade of cake, fondant, cream and flowers in a stream across the wood. Everything went silent.
“That’s what you get,” DeShawn yelled, breathing like a winded rhinoceros, “for being a f*****g slut.” Then he stormed across the hall and slammed out of the building.
The bride fainted. The groom swore. Adalia stared into space, unblinking, and Trent turned his back on her and walked through the kitchen.
- Writer
