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Willow: Correction. Friday night and you’re not getting any younger. Bella and I double dare you. Plus, you owe me. I will not allow you to forget. Bitch
Me: Funny. I don’t do dares and you’re the bitch for pushing me to do this
Willow: We win
Oh, the little bitch knew how I hated to lose.
Me: Fine. I’ll text him
Willow: Sure you will
Oh, I sometimes wanted to hate her so much, but how could I?
We would see. I tossed the phone onto the counter, hurrying toward the balcony. As soon as I was able to breathe in the ocean air, I almost felt alive again.
It had been a whirlwind couple of years working with my father. It was only supposed to have been temporary but one month had turned into close to two years taken from my life.
That had pushed my dreams to the backburner. With an MBA in business, minors in marketing as well as computer science, and a love of all things cupcake related, I’d been certain by now my little bakery would be the most sought after in San Diego.
The fact I’d yet to find the right location was a bleak setback that could lead to abandoning my dreams.
No. I refused.
I couldn’t go back to working with my father. I’d had little time to explore the business I wanted, the twelve-hour days exhausting. Gee, I wondered why after I’d worked side by side with the merciless man who barked orders, not asking for assistance. He was the devil incarnate. I was shocked my mother had remained married to him for so long. I laughed as I enjoyed the taste of the wine, another indulgence I allowed myself.
I did what I could to save money for my dream, including remaining in the tiny apartment. Scrimping and saving had to mean something at some point. It just had to. My father wanted me to work with him more than almost anything, but I wasn’t certain I could tolerate doing so again.
At least not without driving a stake through his heart. He was truly a bloodsucker given what he demanded from his employees. Including his own daughter.
No. I’d made the right decision. I really had.
Maybe.
Disgusted with myself, I headed back inside, grabbing one of the last remaining free paper magazines highlighting both commercial and residential businesses in and out of town. It was one of the few reasons I suffered going to that particular grocery store. I poured another glass of wine, shocked I’d consumed the first one in record time. The thin black and white real estate pamphlet continued to draw my attention. I flipped through the pages, hoping maybe I’d find a diamond in the rough.
I’d tried my best to keep up with market values and rents of commercial locations, but the sticker shock was almost enough to cause a heart attack. Were they fucking kidding me? Even with the money I’d saved so far, if the prices in the small pamphlet were any indication, I couldn’t afford a postage stamp in the worst part of town. Maybe I was wasting my time. And sadly, the key to the success of Sinful Treats, the little name I knew would bring in the clients, was all about location. Location.
Freaking location.
Which meant spending the big bucks. And the area I was considering didn’t have that many places for rent. That meant I’d need to purchase a portion of a building. God. I would be eighty before I could manage to open my doors.
More wine was needed.
So, I drank.
And ignored the concept of dinner.
And opened the second bottle of wine in no time.
I was on a roll and feeling giddy, dancing around my kitchen even as despair settled in. At least I could continue selling my goodies at bake sales and fairs.
Until the health department police shut me down permanently.
Oh, God. I was pathetic.
I was more than a little tipsy, tired of the same routine.
The screen on my phone lit up and this time, Bella was hassling me.
