When the bacon was thoroughly cooked, she removed it from the skillet and began chopping it into one inch, roughly square-shaped pieces. Drew watched as Bunz picked up a pastry bag and piped light brown buttercream onto one cupcake and then garnished it with an artfully applied piece of bacon. She presented Drew with the cupcake as well as a wholly triumphant smile.
Drew shrugged gamely, tugging down one side of the wrapper, and bit into the cupcake, making sure to get a little of everything in her monstrous bite. She immediately tasted the sweetness of the brown sugar and cinnamon of the cupcake, the salted caramel of the filling, and the rich, warm flavor of the maple in the buttercream. She was then immediately assailed with the crispness and saltiness of the bacon, and somehow, the flavors all melded together in perfect harmony and she chewed contentedly, her eyes falling shut for a moment.
When she reopened them, Bunz was grinning from ear to ear. "Well?" she demanded, although the impending feedback was quite obvious.
"Absolutely heavenly," Drew managed thickly, pulling down another portion of the wrapper to line up another bite. "Perfection. I'll take three dozen."
Bunz laughed. "Sorry, the one is all you get for now. These are for tomorrow morning. For the case," she added pointedly, giving Drew a stern look.
Drew finished the delightful cupcake and held up her hands in a gesture of surrender that was completely Italian. "All right, all right," she conceded. "Now, how did you come up with these?"
"I was bored the other night, and decided to do some tinkering around," Bunz replied. "So I made these up, and as it turned out, I really am the shit at what I do."
"But you didn't have the bacon," Drew said.
"Well…not exactly. I used the vegetarian kind."
Drew stared. "You're joking," she said. "You used 'facon' on this cupcake?"
"I'm sorry?" Bunz asked.
"Fake bacon! How dare you!"
"I mean, it was good," Bunz answered with a negligent shrug. "What was I supposed to do, eat the real thing?"
Drew chuckled and shook her head. She looked at her watch again. "You finish up with these, I'll start cleaning in the front. It's ten to six; no one else is coming in today."
"In a hurry?" Bunz asked, slightly sarcastic. "Off to the gym to see your boyfriend? Oh, wait. My bad, I forgot. He has no idea you exist because you're always incognito."
"Hey," Drew called over her shoulder, pointing a finger at Bunz. "Mind your own business."
"I hope you can knock off this secretive shit soon," Bunz said after her. "You not being able to wear nail polish is truly annoying."
"Pretty sure someone there might take issue with a guy who had lacquered nails," Drew called sarcastically. "You should see this place, B. Nothing but testosterone."
"I can imagine," Bunz replied. "Which only serves my overall curiosity as to why you want to go there in the first place? I know we don't discuss the past but I know enough by now to know that what you went through involved a man. Why put yourself through that?"
Memories flooded her instantly, memories of terror and dark, fear and sweat, hands on her skin, pain radiating through her body. The broom she was holding clattered to the floor as anxiety threatened to overwhelm her.
Bunz heard the clatter and rushed in from the kitchen, her face instantly apologetic. "Here, sit down," she murmured, guiding her friend to a chair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." She watched as Drew squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling deep breaths through her nose as her entire body tightened with stress. "Do you have your meds?"
Drew gave her one terse nod, wrapping her arms around herself. "In my bag."
Bunz immediately went to the black leather messenger back hanging on the coatrack at the back of the café and rifled through it quickly, coming up with the amber medication bottle and popping the lid. She'd done this enough times to know exactly where in the bag Drew kept her meds, exactly how many to give her, and how much water she needed to drink. It was automatic by now.
Bunz grabbed her a cup of water and brought it over, dropping two anti-anxiety pills into Drew's outstretched palms. She folded her arms and bit the inside of her cheek as she watched Drew take the meds. She was surprised when Drew spoke again.
"To answer your question," Drew began, and Bunz was glad to hear her voice was steady, if low. "I guess it's my own personal form of therapy. As long as no one pays me any mind, I can be around them and still do what I have to do. It helps me focus under pressure." She took another sip of water. "Besides, the guy that co-owns and manages it is an MMA star. Even if I don't spar with him or even talk to him, I can still watch and study his movements. So essentially, I'm still learning from the best."