Perfume Ch. 07

Wynston knew how difficult it was to cook – or do much of anything – while pregnant. So she had lured Lacey over with the promise of a feast.

To her surprise, Eric had volunteered to do the cooking.

At first, Wynston thought he was joking, but when he had gone to the market and come back with bags of fresh seafood, meat and produce, she knew they were in for a treat.

Eric had cooked them a 3-course meal, Puerto Rican-style. He'd started with empanadillas which were little pastries with lobster inside. They had been delicious.

He had called the second dish an asopao de pollo with tostones which was basically a sort of gumbo made with meat, and green and chile peppers.

The final dish was called arroz con chorizo y garbonzos, a traditional Puerto Rican rice with Spanish sausage and chick peas.

The food had been heavenly, and they all had been impressed...especially the pregnant Lacey, who had taken to eating as a favorite past time.

After dinner, the four sat around playing Spades. When Lacey had gone into the kitchen for water, she spied the triple layer chocolate cake Wynston had made.

"Oohhhh, please tell me you made this for tonight, Hughes!" Lacey had begged.

"Yes, I did. Sit down and I'll cut you a slice," Wynston said.

She hadn't thought she would be able to eat another bite of food, but oddly enough, the cake did begin to look irresistible.

When Wynston cut hefty wedges for everyone, she was taken aback by how the trio went bananas over the cake.

Lacey had asked if it was Pillsbury or Duncan Hines; and when Wynston informed her that it was her own family recipe, Lacey had almost lost it.

"Seriously, dude...why aren't you selling this? Do you know how much money we could be making?!"

Wynston had smiled over Lacey's use of "we." The two of them had become very close during the past couple of months.

"She's right, baby, this is some good stuff. I think if we put the word out, people will be knocking on your door to place orders. It will give you something to do," Eric had said meaningfully.

Wynston smiled.

He was referring to the fact that she had been going stark raving mad in the house. She was used to working for a living. True, in the beginning it had been nice to lounge around during the day; but soon, that had gotten old.

Wynston had delved into decorating the house and making it more welcoming; but that hadn't taken long at all.

So she had given Bo and Lacey the go ahead to spread the word. She didn't really believe anything would come of it anyway. Just a couple orders here and there...nothing too big.

Well, she had been wrong.

When the sheriff and his wife spoke, people listened; and before Wynston knew it, she was taking orders for birthday parties, luncheons, charity events, everything.

And after everybody had actually tasted her cakes, even more orders started coming in.

Today had been her biggest order yet. Juliette Browning was a wealthy woman, and was throwing an over-the-top bash for her 5-year-old daughter. Mrs. Browning had ordered cupcakes in every girlie color and flavor of the rainbow.

Wynston had had to do extensive research to get the coloring and decorations just right; but she had done it. This had been the easiest $500 she'd ever made.

She walked over to the fridge and carefully opened it. Terrence's drawings and a letter from her mother had come on a weekly basis. She'd stuck them on the refrigerator the same way she would've at home.

She and Eric always had to be super careful when opening the fridge or freezer door.

One wrong move and the mountain of papers would all go sliding to the floor...she really needed to do something about that.

Wynston rewarded herself with her favorite snack. As she pulled out a jar of Mezzetta pepperoncini, the phone rang...it was Lacey.

"What's up, girl? Did you finish that big ass order yet?" she asked.

"Yeah, just about. I just put the last batch in the oven. Thank you so much for spreading the word about my cakes. I owe you and Bo a lot."

"Girl, we are not hearing that. You're the one with the goods. We just thought people should know; consider it free advertisement. But listen, I called to see if you guys wanna go to the movies tonight. It'll be good for you to put your feet up after working so hard," Lacey said.

"Okay. I think I just heard Eric pull up. I'll ask him and then I'll call you right back."

As Wynston hung up the phone, Eric walked in with several large cake boxes. He was going with her to deliver the cupcakes when they were done.

"Eric!" Wynston exclaimed.

He smiled his beautiful smile at her silliness. "What it do, baby?" he asked tiredly, receiving her kiss.

Eric had begun to go mad from staying home the same way Wynston had, so he decided to do something about it.

Much to Wynston's surprise, she found out that Eric's family had made most of the furniture in the house.

She was astounded when he told her he had designed and built the bed in his room along with the two nightstands and armoire. It was a skill that his uncle had passed down to him.

So Eric had begun the process of converting the garage into a workshop. He spent his days creating designs and then executing them. He practically lived at Lowe's and any other hardware store that was nearby.

Wynston had to admit that Eric was good at what he did. He had shown her his designs, and they were all intricate and beautifully thought out. When he showed her the finished product of some of his pieces, she had gone ballistic over them in the same manner he had gone crazy over her cakes.

Right now, Eric had six pieces that he could charge an arm and leg for. There were two rocking chairs, a huge chest of drawers, a coffee table and two matching end tables.

He had used nothing but expensive cherry wood thereby elevating the quality.

Wynston was very proud of him.

They would be going to the flea market on Saturday to see if they could attract buyers. Wynston was very excited...she wanted Eric to succeed so badly.

"Lacey invited us to go to the movies tonight," she said. "You up for it?"

"Yes!" Eric said immediately. He was tired and needed to get out and have a good time.

"Ok, cool. I'll call her and let her know. How was your day?" she asked, the concern evident in her voice.

She had immediately noticed how tired Eric looked.

He sighed as he rummaged through the candy Wynston had bought the day he'd shown her around Summerville for the first time. She'd also bought a huge glass jar for the candies.

Even though Eric had talked a lot of smack, he was mainly the one who indulged.

It amused Wynston every time she saw him in the jar.

"I'm beat," he said. "The hardware store lost my order...that took two hours to get straightened out. Lacey's rocking chair isn't coming together the way I wanted...it's just been one of those days."

Wynston felt terrible. She had pestered him about cake boxes and he'd had his own problems.

"I'm sorry. Anything I can do?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Kiss me," he said.

Wynston happily obliged just as the timer went off. She reluctantly broke the kiss to take the cupcakes out of the oven.

"So you got them all done, huh?" he asked.

Eric surveyed the kitchen. There were chocolate cupcakes, vanilla, lemon, and yellow. The frosting ranged in color from pink to yellow to white to purple. The decorations on each one was unique.

Some had butterfly rings on them while others had chocolate shavings. Over half had two or more colors, and there were sprinkles, candies, edible flowers...more things than Eric had thought possible.

"Yup! This is the last batch," she said cheerfully.

"I'm proud of you, Hughes. I knew you could pull it off."

Wynston turned to look at Eric and was shocked at how he looked. That quick minute, his eyes had turned bloodshot and he looked as if he hadn't slept in days.

Her brows furrowed with concern. "Have you seen the way you look? Are you coming down with something?" she asked.

Wynston went to feel Eric's forehead, but found that it was a normal temperature.

She looked at the clock and did some quick math. It was almost 4 o'clock. She didn't have to deliver the cupcakes until 5:30. That would give Eric at least an hour to take a nap.

"I think you should go lie down for a few. The cupcakes need to cool before I can frost them, so it'll be a while before I deliver them," she said.

"Yeah, I think I will take a nap...just for an hour. Make sure you wake me so I can take you," he said kissing her on the cheek. He was already yawning as he turned and dragged himself upstairs.

"Poor baby," Wynston said to herself. She returned her attention to finishing the cupcakes.

***

The clock read 4:55 p.m., and Wynston was placing the last of the cupcakes in their box.

"Suh-weet!" she sang. She was done and with time to spare!

Standing back to eye her handiwork, Wynston looked over everything once more and compared the cupcakes to the order form she had drafted for Mrs. Browning.

Everything was spot on.

She made her way up the stairs to Eric's room and was met with darkness. He had closed the blinds and curtains and was lying on his back, his arm thrown over his face.

He must really be exhausted, Wynston thought.

Eric had been working late at night on the furniture. Sometimes he didn't come to bed until well after she was asleep. But he always, always woke her to make love to her before he crashed.

Wynston's stomach fluttered as she thought about their love-making. It was exactly that. It had changed somehow, becoming less raw and more...loving, tender.

Eric had begun to hold her closely more and even whispered soft, beautiful things in her ear. If possible, he touched her more often during the day, too.

Wynston had always been a touchy person, and didn't like to be hugged unless it was someone she knew or was comfortable with. But she had always welcomed Eric's touch and never once did she get tired of it...or him.

As she sat on the bed and watched his chest move up and down slowly with his even breathing, she admitted to herself that she was falling in love with him...and that worried her.

They had only known each other for a short time, so Wynston didn't know if it was possible to feel so strongly about Eric so soon.

What if their relationship fizzled? What if these feelings had developed simply because of circumstances?

Wynston didn't want to think about life without him, though. He was such a big part of it.

Sighing, she crawled onto the bed and kissed his soft, full lips. She rested her head on his chest. "Sweetie, it's been an hour," she said quietly.

Snoring.

Wynston smiled and tried again. "Eric, it's time to wake up," she said a little louder.

More snoring.

He was obviously tired because he never snored. She didn't have the heart to wake him just to chauffeur her around. Wynston knew where Mrs. Browning lived and was completely capable of making the short drive to the house.

She pecked Eric once more on the lips and quietly left the room.

***

As Wynston loaded the last box into the truck, she touched the other boxes to make sure they were cool. She had cranked up the air full blast so that the icing didn't melt.

She would die if she delivered a sloppy mess.

Wynston carefully pulled out of the driveway and made her way slowly toward Mrs. Browning's immaculate three-story home.

When she pulled up 10 minutes later, it was to find that Mrs. Browning had not spared any expense. The country-style, grand cottage was decorated with everything "Princess" with pinks, whites, lavenders and yellows all over the place.

There were more balloons than Wynston could count, and she could see the tops of several Inflatables billowing in the back yard.

"Cupcakes are here!" yelled a small voice. It was Aubrey Browning; and before Wynston knew it, she was being rushed by five and six-year-olds.

"Let us help you with those before you're attacked," Mrs. Browning said as she and her husband grabbed boxes from Wynston.

When they walked to the backyard, Wynston's jaw dropped in amazement. The Brownings definitely knew how to throw a party.

Up close, the three Inflatables were huge. There was a Princess Castle jumper, a slide and a rock climber.

Face-painting stations were set up and there were round tables and chairs set up for the guests to sit.

Live Oaks were all over the place, and they had pink, white and yellow ribbons dangling from the branches.

The wind blew gently, making the ribbons in the trees dance merrily.

The trees lent their shade to caterers and servers as they bustled to and from six or seven tables decorated with pretty, pink and white tablecloths. Each table was heavy-laden with food.

There was even a table set up just for Wynston's cupcakes, which made her feel important...and scared.

As she and Mrs. Browning opened the boxes, Wynston silently breathed a sigh of relief. All the cupcakes and their icing were intact; and they were beautiful.

"Oh, my, Wynston. You've really outdone yourself!" Mrs. Browning gushed. "I know people who've owned bakeries for years who don't do such a wonderful job."

Wynston blushed. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Browning."

"Mommy, can we eat my cupcakes now?!" Little Aubrey asked.

"Not yet, darling. Remember what Mommy told you...we have to eat first. The cupcakes will be last," Mrs. Browning told the little girl.

Aubrey's face dropped.

"If you can wait until later, I made you something extra special, Aubrey. But you have to wait until Mommy says it's okay," Wynston said.

"What is it, Ms. Wynston??" Aubrey asked, barely containing her excitement.

Wynston looked inside one of the cupcake boxes and removed a smaller box, handing it to the little girl.

"This one is extra special because it's just for you. There's not another one in the whole world like it," Wynston whispered to the awed child.

Aubrey slowly opened the box to reveal a large cupcake that was made to look like an ice cream sundae.

Wynston had coated the cupcake with pink frosting, which served as the "strawberry ice cream." Then she had intricately piped chocolate frosting on top to look like chocolate syrup.

What followed was a dollop of vanilla frosting (the whipped cream), a Maraschino cherry, and Wynston had even stuck a triangle of a waffle cone on the cupcake, completing the look.

All the children oohed and ahhed, making Aubrey feel like a very special little girl.

"Thank you, Ms. Wynston!" she squealed, and wrapped her arms around Wynston's legs.

"You're welcome, Aubrey," she said, hugging the little girl back.

With that, Aubrey begged her mom to keep her special cupcake safe and ran off to play.

"That was very sweet of you, Wynston," Mrs. Browning said. "I have an engagement a month from now and I can use a few of your cakes there. I'll be in touch soon with the details."

As Mrs. Browning handed Wynston an envelope, she thanked her again, saying she added a small tip for delivery.

Wynston walked back to the truck, trying hard not to scream with delight. When she got inside, she opened the envelope to find that the "small tip" was an extra $100.

This time, she did scream.

***

On impulse, Wynston decided to stop by the hair salon to see if someone could fit her in for a trim. She lucked out.

A young girl who looked to be in her 20's had a cancellation and could do Wynston's dry cut. Her name was Tara.

When Wynston asked Tara to just trim the whole thing, Tara informed her that she wanted to try another look on her. If Wynston didn't like it, Tara would cut it as Wynston had asked.

"Go for it," Wynston said.

Much to her surprise, Tara's idea had worked. Wynston's bangs had grown long since being in South Carolina. She had intended to snip it off, but Tara left it long, cutting the rest of the hair short.

The hair in front now had a wide part and swooped over Wynston's eye, giving her a new, dramatic look. She liked it.

"Whoa. I'd have never thought to do that," Wynston said, admiring her new 'do. "You're hired," she said. I think you'll be seeing me fairly often."

Wynston tipped Tara and took a business card. As she left the salon, she couldn't help walking in that way women do when their hair is newly done and they are feeling themselves.

Yup...she was definitely feeling herself, she thought with a small smile.

Next, she stopped by the candy shop and re-upped on Eric's favorite Boston Baked Beans.

On the way home, she sat at a traffic light where a boutique for plus sizes caught her eye. There was a coral dress in the window that made her drool.

Wynston whipped the truck into a parking space in front of the boutique and sprinted inside.

When Wynston left the boutique, she had the coral, dress in tow. It had reminded her of a "Marilyn" Ruched Convertible dress she had seen on the Monif C. website.

But that dress had been over $200 and had been way out of Wynston's budget. This dress, however, was only $50 and it had looked gorgeous on her.

As she hung the dress on the hook in the backseat of the truck, she closed the door and was stunned to be staring in Detective Mowry's face.

"Detective," she began, but trailed off when he put his finger to his lips.

"Follow me, Ms. Hughes-Grey," he said.

Wynston immediately followed the detective, fearing the worst. What was he doing here in South Carolina? Was it bad news?

Detective Mowry led her between two buildings not far from the loading docks. "How have you been, Ms. Hughes-Grey?" he asked.

"I've been managing," Wynston said nervously. Please don't let there be bad news, she thought.

"Mr. Torres taking good care of you?"

She paused. The detective had sounded rather snide...or was it her imagination?

"Uh, yes, Eric is-we're both making the best of the situation," she said finally.

Detective Mowry eyed her. Suddenly, he lifted his hand and gently drew his finger alongside her cheek. When the finger made its way across her lips, Wynston took a step back.

"Detective was there something you needed to tell me?" she asked.

"No," he said huskily. "I just wanted to see you, make sure you're alright." He was walking closer to her.

"Oh, well, I'm fine...WE'RE fine," she stressed. "So if you don't mind—"

But before Wynston could finish, Detective Mowry had grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He forced his cool, wet lips onto hers, making Wynston recoil.

She pushed against him and tried to twist her face away, but he was too strong. The more she fought, the rougher he got as he smashed their lips together and squeezed her breasts.

Wynston managed to break her hands free enough to scratch him along the sides of his face.

Detective Mowry broke the kiss, and backhanded her. Wrenching her hand down to his crotch, he pressed it against his erection.

"See what you do to me? All that is for you and you're fighting me?!" he yelled.

When Wynston tried to jerk her hand away, the detective shook her. "You let that motherfucker dig up in it, but you won't give me a small fucking taste?!"

If Wynston didn't get away from him soon, she would throw up all over him...that was a fact. She was disgusted and petrified.

They were basically in an alley, nobody knew she was back there, and Eric was at home.

As the detective slipped his hands under her shirt, Wynston frantically thought what she could do.

She couldn't kick him as she was wearing flip-flops; and she couldn't shake free to hit him. She thought of the only defense women really had against a stronger foe.

Here goes, she thought.

Wynston kneed the detective in the privates and was so relieved when he let her go to bend over in pain.

She hauled ass as fast as her heavy breasts allowed.