Diluted Desire

Diluted Desire

By

Desiree Day

PUBLISHED BY:

Desiree Day

Diluted Desire

Copyright 2012 by Desiree Day

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Violet Murphy and her best friend Althea Connor jogged along the trail in Piedmont Park.  In excellent shape, they easily sailed through two and a half miles, they had exactly that many left before they were done.

At thirty-eight-years-old Violet looked much younger than her age, as do most black women.  With her smooth unblemished skin, short trendy haircut, and her well-toned, lightly muscled body, she was occasionally mistaken for someone in her late twenties. 

Without breaking her stride Violet snatched her water bottle off her hydration waistpack and guzzled down half its contents before clamping it back in place. 

She peeked out of the corners of her eyes at Althea; she was in the zone her gaze focused on some unknown marker that only she knew.  They jogged in a comfortable silence, being friends for over a decade they had earned that right.  During their morning run, neither said anything unless it was absolutely necessary.  Violet started to say something but changed her mind when she saw how focused her friend was.

It was October and they both were excited at being outdoors again.  The extreme summer heat and thick as slaw humidity had them working out at their gym. 

At six o’clock in the morning the park was filled with groups of fitness boot camp participants, people doing yoga and joggers like her.  Violet breathed deeply enjoying the cool air. 

Piedmont Park was the perfect place for their daily run, since it was so close to their homes.  Violet owned a house in Virginia-Highlands, an eclectic neighborhood filled with a mix of boutiques, restaurants and historical houses.  Althea owned a condo in Midtown Atlanta.

Violet suppressed what she had to say until their cool down, when they finally shifted gears and ambled along. They walked slowly coming down from their runner’s high, and filled with the satisfaction that they pushed their bodies to the limit and won.  “Great run,” she murmured.

“It was, I wish I had time to get a massage, but I have a meeting in two hours that I can’t miss,” Althea said with a frown.  She rolled her shoulders and wiggled her arms, as though she could shake off her stress. 

“Schedule it for after work,” Violet suggested.

Althea grinned at her friend.  “I think I might.”

They continued their walk.  Even though it was still cool, the temperature had inched up a few degrees since they had started their run.  “I think Clint is cheating on me…again,” Violet said quietly.

Althea was silent, she had heard accusations against Violet’s husband before and they all turned out to be false.  “Clint’s changed…”  Althea grabbed her hand, forcing her to stop.  Joggers and walkers grumbled as they went around the newly formed obstacle on the trail.  “Let’s go over to the grass and stretch before we get run over.  You can tell me everything over there.”

They found a spot on the grass and settled down.  It was a little damp but it didn’t matter, they were already sweaty.  Violet and Althea began the second half of their cool down routine.  Violet started talking as though her friend hadn’t interrupted her, “He’s been so distant and he’s never home.”

“Could it be because he owns one of the most popular bakeries in the city?” she asked, her voice toeing sarcasm.  A couple of years before the cupcake craze started, Clint had opened a bakery, Sugah Cakes; that focused on gourmet cupcakes and cakes.  Since its opening business was brisk, but with the growing popularity of the little bite size treats, his bakery had taken off sending his sales soaring into the stratosphere, and making him one busy man, so much so that he had to double his staff.

“No!” Violet snapped.  “Because he used to be attentive, but now nothing.”

“What proof do you have?”

“Proof?” Violet asked.  “I don’t need proof, I have my woman’s intuition, my gut is telling me that he’s cheating.”

“Violet…”

“But—”

“Clint loves you.  Xavier and I always talk about how sweet he is to you.  He made a mistake and he apologized a million times, it’s time to move on.  And what makes you think he’s cheating, you know that you’ve been wrong before,” Althea said softly.

“But not this time I’m not,” Violet insisted.  She stared defiantly at her friend almost hating her; she had a perfect man, beautiful children and an envy worthy life.  She doesn’t have a husband who cheated on her five years ago, Violet fumed to herself.  Clint had confessed his indiscretion one night after he had too much to drink.  The admission had blindsided her, knocking her to her knees.  Over time, they had slowly rebuilt their marriage, but now the walls were tumbling down around them.  It was just as painful to reveal now as it was then.

Althea turned away from her friend and instead touched her toes.  She was looking at the ground when she asked, “Why are you so sure?”

“Okay, here’s one.  Last night he got home at midnight, and even before he kissed me hello, he was running up to the bathroom to shower.  And when he was done, he went right to bed.  He could barely tell me goodnight,” she fumed.

“But the bakery…”

“Don’t say anything about that bakery again, I don’t believe it’s the problem,” Violet hissed.  “He fucked somebody and he was trying to cover his tracks.”

Althea swallowed a retort, instead she asked, “Have you talked with him about it?”

“No,” Violet replied curtly. 

“But why?”

“Because, he’ll lie about it and why should I waste my time listening to a lie?”  Violet twisted her torso, turning away from her friend.

Althea rested a hand on her friend’s shoulder, forcing her to stop and face her.  “Talk to him Violet, approach him with an open heart and really listen to him.  You might be surprised by what he has to say.”

Violet flattened her lips and pulled away from her friend.  Althea’s hand dropped to her side.  “I’ll see,” she mumbled. 

They finished their stretching in silence.  The two friends strolled to their cars.  When they got to their vehicles, Althea pulled her friend to her and hugged her tightly.  “It’s going to be okay, sweetie.  Go by the bakery today and see your husband.  Or better yet, take him to dinner.  I know that he’ll love that.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she replied absent-mindedly.  She wiggled out of her friend’s embrace.  “See you tomorrow?”

“Sure will.”

They got into their vehicles, Violet’s a BMW and Althea’s a Volvo.  They drove off, going in separate directions.  “That asshole is cheating on me, and I’m going to catch him!” Violet vowed.

Chapter 2

Clint Murphy expertly piped the frosting on the bottom tier of the wedding cake.  Although cupcakes were the hottest selling items at Sugah Cakes, he also had cakes that sold just as well as the cupcakes.  Wedding cakes were special order, he enjoyed doing them. 

He stood back and admired his handiwork.  The intricate pattern looked so realistic that it looked like a piece of lace, for confirmation he held a swatch of the wedding dress next to the cake.  It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. 

Clint flexed his fingers then gently massaged them.  Opening a bakery had always been a dream of his, but the work was hard on his hands. 

It was nine o’clock in the morning and Sugah Cakes was crowded.  The dozen bistro tables were all taken with customers getting their early morning sugar and caffeine fix of cupcakes and coffee.  It was a smart business decision to have the bakery equipped with Wi-Fi and to sell gourmet coffee.  Even with the recession he found that people could easily part with three dollars for the coffee and cupcake combo, it was an even better bargain if they bought a day-old cupcake.  His customers came for the food but stayed for the companionship.  A lot of them were unemployed and they enjoyed Sugah Cakes where they knew everyone and Clint didn’t push them out if they stayed too long. 

Suddenly, Summer Gimmell, a full-time clerk, appeared at the kitchen door.  “We’re out of the Hawaiian Surprise Cupcakes,” she shouted before running back to the counter. 

“Did you hear that Lance?” Clint called out.

“I’m on it Mr. M.”  And to prove it he gestured toward a tray of cupcakes in front of him, all of them were frosted, all that needed to be added was a garnish.  “Give me a minute; I just need to stick on a dried pineapple.”

Clint nodded with satisfaction.  Lance had come so far, he had come to him from an organization that placed released felons with businesses willing to hire them, giving them a second chance.  And so far, Lance had surpassed his own expectations for himself.  He worked as many hours as he could at the bakery, while attending The Art Institute of Atlanta Baking and Pastry Program.  After seeing his dedication and his talent, Clint had given him a scholarship, paid by him personally.

As soon as his hands felt better, he resumed his work on the cake.  An hour later, after putting the finishing touches on it, he placed it on a cart before rolling it into the refrigerator for safekeeping.  He sighed with satisfaction then he ambled back to his office and did the stuff he hated, paperwork.  For the next three hours, he paid the bills, made the schedule for the upcoming week and reviewed special orders then placed his food order.  By the time he glanced at the clock it was well past lunch time. 

He raised his arms over his head and stretched, pulling the kinks out.  Clint rubbed a stubborn one on his lower back that refused to get with the program.  He glanced at his cell phone and debated whether to call his wife.  When they first got married they used to call each other in the middle of the day to talk, but now they rarely saw each other.  What happened to us? Clint wondered.

He had met Violet ten years ago while he was still in culinary school. She surprised him by supporting and believing in him.  He had quit his job as a bus driver where he was sick and tired of earning minimum wage.  Once he graduated, he had taken out a business loan and opened his bakery.  He had been baking for decades.  As soon as he was old enough to grasp a wooden spoon, he was standing alongside his grandmother, albeit on a chair, in the kitchen helping her to bake her famous Seven Pound Pound Cake.  During their time together she had not only taught him about baking, but about life, the lessons she had bestowed on him were invaluable.  The school had given him credibility but they also confirmed something that he and everybody else knew, that he was one hell of a baker. 

He picked up his phone the same time Summer sauntered into his office, carrying two Subway lunches. 

“Perfect timing as usual,” Clint said with a dazzling smile to Summer; he dropped his phone.  Summer had been working for him for years.  Several times he had approached her with the idea of promoting her to a managerial position and every time she turned him down.  She had claimed that she didn’t want the responsibility, but they both knew that she was already doing the work sans the title.  He didn’t know why she didn’t want the promotion and the financial reward that came with it, but one day he planned on finding out. 

Summer sat at his desk while Clint grabbed several piles of paper and threw them on top of other stacks creating higher mounds.  As soon as there was a clear space big enough for them, she passed him his lunch; a twelve-inch meatball sub, potato chips and a large soda, he jumped into it as soon as he pulled off the wrapper.  Summer grinned at him; she slid her six-inch veggie sub out of its plastic bag, opened the wrapper and smoothed it out.  Her baked chips were next; she opened those and set the bag within arm’s reach.  She bowed her head and silently blessed her meal.  Clint was almost a third of the way through his sub by the time Summer finally took a bite from her sandwich.

They ate, neither talking, both enjoying the respite from their jobs.  After five years of working together they felt comfortable enough not to feel pressured to desecrate their much needed break with silly prattle.