"I'll think about it." Layla gave her friend a smile she didn't feel.
"Liar." Gabi shoved a cupcake at her, waggling her eyebrows and affecting her best mad scientist accent. "It's my new creation. Chocolate covered pretzel with caramel fluff frosting."
Gabi watched Layla intently as she took a bite. Crazy as her friend seemed, she took her business very seriously. And she got pissed if you told her you liked something when you really didn't. The woman thrived on critique.
This time, Layla didn't have any. "Wow."
Gabi grinned. "I know, right? It's going on the menu for your homecoming fundraiser. Look. I put the poster right where you told me."
Layla glanced over her shoulder to see the bulletin board that normally listed the weeks flavors and special order instructions completely wallpapered with fundraiser flyers. Her stomach lurched. The first ever Adult Annual Homecoming Dance was less than a month away, and she was not looking forward to it for several reasons.
First, she was in charge of hiring the musical entertainment, and the school hadn't given her much money to work with. Second, that meant she actually had to attend. And third, Gary had promised her the funds raised would go to her department.
That would be great if it actually happened, but she hadn't had any luck pinning him down for a commitment. He kept making up excuses about needing the school board to approve it, and it wouldn't be on the agenda until this month. If his recent pattern of screwing over her department indicated anything, it was that she shouldn't count on him for anything.
"Stop it. I know what you're thinking." Gabi shook her head. "You're not a quitter, Layla. You're a conqueror. You make shit happen. That's why we get along so well."
Layla sighed as Gabi opened up a cupcake box--bright pink and sparkly, of course--and began filling it with Layla's favorite flavors. "You know I will eat those all tonight, don't you?"
"It's okay. Cupcakes are good for your curves." Gabi pointed at Layla's ass and boobs. "I wish they did the same for me. Besides, I got some intel for you."
"What kind of intel?"
"Mami has been dating someone new lately..."
Layla raised her eyebrows and waited for the rest of the revelation. Gabi loved to tell her stories in the most dramatic way possible, which usually involved plenty of well-placed pauses, flamboyant hand gestures, and tons of melodrama.
Mami was always dating someone new. Most of the single men in town over a certain age were in love with Gabi's mom. Some of the men under a certain age, too.
Though Gabi and her mom were different as could be in the dating department, it was obvious where Gabi got her "don't take shit from no man" approach to life. With Gabi's mom, one strike and you were out. With Gabi, you had to prove you were even worthy of the chance at a strike. So far, the list of those who she'd deemed worthy was practically empty.
Gabi's mouth tilted up at one corner, and she announced the lucky man like she was throwing down the trump card at a poker game where she held all the cards. "Tu jefe."
Your boss.
"No way." Ewww. Gabi's mom would snap that man like a twig.
"Yes way. Which means I told Mami about how important it is that you get all the money from the fundraiser. Which means that Mami told him how important it is to her that you get all the money from the fundraiser." Gabi's half smile morphed into a full-blown grin of triumph. "You know how much she loves you."
Layla did know. After the fire, the Gabi and her mom insinuated themselves in her life, and instead of feeling sorry for her, they told her to get her shit together and make something of herself, because she was too good to squander a second chance. And though it scared her to death because she knew what it would feel like to lose them, she loved them, too.
Her thoughts flitted to Derek.
She had her parents, at least on the phone and on the occasional holiday. She had Gabi and her mom. She had Bertie.
She couldn't risk letting anyone else into her heart, because sooner or later she'd lose them. Love was a dangerous commodity, and she didn't deal in it lightly. Or ever at all.
She blinked at the cupcake box and focused on the fact that her music program might not be going to total shit after all, not on the way her heart stuttered when she thought about what it would be like to allow herself to love a man like Derek.
"I said, you know how much she loves you."
Layla nodded.
"Good. And you know how good she is at getting dudes to do whatever she tells them to. It's like her magical superpower or something."
The phone on the counter started ringing. Or at least Layla thought it started ringing. It was kinda hard to tell over all that Creedence Clearwater Revival.
Gabi gave the phone a dirty look. "So, you're familia. Your boss will be a good little boy. That money's gonna be yours." When she was good and ready, she answered the phone. "Azucar Lips. Best frickin' cupcakes you'll ever eat. How can I help you."
Layla grabbed her candy and cupcakes from the counter.
"Yeah, I do custom wedding cakes..." Gabi rolled her eyes. "You can come in and give me some ideas, but I need to clear something up, first. I'm an artist. I don't do grocery store roses or any shit like that...don't worry. You'll love my work."
Layla mouthed a goodbye to her friend. She knew how long a phone call from a bride-to-be could take, and she had another to make. Gabi blew her a kiss before reaching for a notepad and pencil.
The only other place Layla wanted to go today before heading home for an evening of listening to The Music Man soundtrack on repeat in an effort to learn the piano part through osmosis was Bertie's. She hadn't seen her since the night she closed up the shop, and she wanted to see how Franklin was recuperating from his trip to the vet's. Plus Cody hadn't asked for reeds in nearly two weeks. Layla needed to stock up.
"Hey, Bertie. I..." The words died on her lips as she entered the shop, because the mahogany grand piano, the centerpiece of Bertie's sales floor since forever, was gone.
Layla stood blinking at the empty spot. Derek had kissed her on that piano bench. And now it was gone.
"Oh...hey, kiddo." Bertie straightened from where she had been bent behind the counter, arranging a fresh stock of violin strings behind the glass.
Her white, cotton-candy hair had partially escaped the combs she used to hold it in place. Her eyes flicked over the empty spot and then back to Layla, who still hadn't moved. A twinge of sadness and something else crossed over her face.
"I'm gonna miss that thing," Bertie said. "But it's in a better place now."
"You got rid of it?"
"Don't be silly. I didn't take it out back and shoot it. I sold it."
"Sold."
"Yes. This is a shop, dear. I know I barely sell enough to pay the electric bill for the joint, but I do sell things once in a while."
"But that piano..."
That piano had been a gift from Bertie's dead husband on their wedding day nearly fifty years ago. When he died of cancer right around the time Layla was born, Bertie moved it from their living room to the store. She said she spent most of her time there, so it only made sense. As long as Layla could remember, it had been the one thing in the shop that wasn't for sale.
Bertie came around to stand next to Layla. The older woman patted her on the shoulder. "I know, I know. But an instrument like that, it deserves to be loved, don't you think? More than I can give it, anyway. All I do is clunk around on it anymore, and most of the time, my arthritis doesn't even let me do that. No one and nothing should spend it's existence just sitting around collecting dust when there's someone it can belong to and who can belong to it...in the way it was truly meant to be."
A lump formed in Layla's throat, but she wasn't sure why. It was just a piano. The world was full of pianos. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Don't look at me like that. I'm telling you now. It's about time that thing get a little action."
Layla felt her cheeks flush. If Bertie only knew it had gotten a little action. "Who'd you sell it to?"
"Funny you should ask."
Something about the way she said it made Layla thing she wasn't going to find it funny at all. Her stomach twisted. Some part of her knew the answer before Bertie could give it.
"Your Beethoven in the red pants came by a couple days ago and told me to name my price. I knew that man was somethin' the moment he swaggered in here...a real, live rock star. Can you believe it? 'Sex walking' is what I call a man like him."
Layla's face flushed even more, if that were possible. "Bertie..."
"Oh, please. Like you didn't notice." Bertie snorted and gave Layla a "you aren't fooling me" kind of look. "Anyway, he said he needed a piano and that was the only one that would do. Offered me way more than that thing was worth, money-wise. Insisted on it. The piano seemed to like him, so I thought, why the hell not?"
"I don't know. Because it's ridiculous to have a grand piano sent from here to...wherever. He could have just bought one closer to home."
"That's the thing. He had it delivered in town."
"Why in the hell would he do that?"
Bertie shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. "You heard the old McCormack place sold, I assume..."
Layla shook her head. As much as everyone knew everything around here, she often found herself out of the loop. No surprise there.
"Too busy for gossip, as usual." Bertie sighed. "If you'd get out of your house a little more, you might a heard about how that house finally sold. Realtor's kept the buyer under wraps...but that's where Beethoven had the piano delivered."
"You can't be serious."
"Why would I lie? Paid for it yesterday morning--in cash--and had the movers here before noon. Must have cost an arm and a leg for that kind of service..." Bertie watched Layla's face as she spoke. "I guess I don't know for sure, but it looks like Maybe has its very first resident rock star."