Dances with Monsters(5)

"That chick is dead, gone, ceases to exist," she'd told Drew one day shortly after coming to the café. "There's no reason for anyone to know that because it's irrelevant."

Never one to push, Drew let it go. It didn't matter to her anyway. She knew the girl as Bunz, and Bunz she would be forever. And Bunz certainly lived up to her name; aside from her passion for art history, she was a fantastic, inspired baker, concocting a vast array of pastries that delighted and tempted their rapidly expanding clientele. At first, Drew's father wasn't keen on having non-traditional baked goods in the cases next to the cannolis, the genoise, the amaretti cookies, the struffoli, the bigne, the biscotti, the tiramisu, the canestrelli. But Drew's mother had convinced him to go out on a limb, take a little risk, and add a little extra to the display shelves. She had encouraged Bunz to add her various cupcakes, her mini-pies, her cheesecakes, bars and cookies to the mix as well. Mr. Carnevale had softened slightly when he saw the overwhelmingly positive response from the customers, and gradually, he had come to allow Bunz exclusive control over what went into the case, his only stipulation being that at least five traditional Italian pastries had to be front and center every day. Bunz was only too pleased to comply.

"B, you alive back there?" Drew called over her shoulder, shoving the sleeves of her hooded sweatshirt up her forearms as she glanced at the black digital watch on her wrist, mentally running through the remainder of her Friday. They were closing at six, which always took at least an hour as they had a closing checklist to run through and the cash register drawer to count, and she still needed to get to the gym and work out before her shift at the bar started at eleven. The following morning, she had to be at the YMCA by eight for the ballet class she taught to middle-school aged girls, and then back to the bakery by ten, before her next shift at the bar. She sighed to herself. Balancing three jobs on opposite time spectrums didn't allow for much sleep or much free time, but besides allowing her to make ends meet and save money, each shift brought her closer to her dream of opening her own dance studio.

It was her greatest passion, dance, and she never forgot how close she'd come to losing it, and everything, forever last year. The horrific experience she'd been through had cost her any kind of professional dance career, but it couldn't completely ebb the passion she had for the art form, not really, not ever. As she'd slowly put herself back together, little by little, that passion had been her foundation. She knew she would never be on another stage again, but she could teach and train other promising young dancers, full of life and hope and potential. She could, and did, help them develop their craft and pursue the dream that had been ripped away from her.

Another clattering noise met her ears, and this time Drew pushed away from the counter. Her black motorcycle boots thumped loudly on the linoleum as she left the area behind the counter and trudged back toward the kitchen.

"B –" she started, then stopped short, biting her lip and struggling not to laugh.

Bunz was covered head to toe in white flour, her deep brown skin peeking out in uneven patches from the stark white coating. There was flour sprinkled in her short Afro and Drew knew her friend would be deeply pissed when she saw herself.

"What seems to be the matter?" Drew asked tightly, a laugh threatening to erupt from her throat.

"I would prefer not to talk about it," Bunz sighed. "I was just minding my own business –"

"Sure you were," Drew interrupted, folding her arms over her chest.

"I was! I was just trying to find some bacon and then I tripped over my own two feet and upended a bag of flour. Sorry, not everyone has your dancer's grace."

"What do you need bacon for?" Drew asked, glancing at the counter. There were three muffin tins, each holding a dozen freshly baked cupcakes, sitting on the surface. They smelled sweetly delicious, the rich scents of brown sugar and cinnamon wafting into Drew's nose.

"For the cupcakes," Bunz replied, her tone indicating that it should have been totally obvious.

Drew lifted an eyebrow, then shrugged, heading for the large freezer at the back of the kitchen.

"Rarely do I question your culinary genius, and I'm not about to start today."

She pulled a package of thickly cut bacon from the back of the refrigerator and handed it to her friend, who promptly took it from her and placed a large skillet on the stove. In no time, the smell of frying bacon filled the air and Drew's stomach grumbled.

"Do you even know how to properly cook bacon?" she demanded. "Being that you're a vegetarian and all?"

Bunz gave her a withering stare. "Anthony isn't," she replied, referencing her live-in and decidedly carnivorous boyfriend. "Trust me, he's schooled me on the art of perfecting pan-fried bacon."