Pineapple Meringue Read online

  Pineapple Meringue

  By

  Brian Miller

  © 2019, Winter Moon Publishing House, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976,

  no part of this publication may be reproduced,

  stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form

  or by any means without the prior written permission

  of the Author.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents

  within are purely fictional.

  Any resemblance to

  actual events, locales, and persons,

  living or dead,

  is purely

  coincidental.

  ENJOY!

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to send out a special thanks to all those who helped bring this story to life.

  Jean Forrester for helping develop both Jewelie and Marisol, as well as story.

  Gabriella Messina for her awesome talent in developing the beautiful cover and teases.

  Marcy Barth for her persistence in making sure the story made sense.

  Sheri Lee Meece for agreeing to continue beta reading for us.

  Jo Anne Vesledahl for teaching me to swear in Spanish.

  And most importantly

  My wife and muse for helping me write the love story between Jewelie and Mare.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Author Links

  Chapter 1

  Jewelie Renee Reese

  Jewelie studied the signature she had just signed on the bottom of the page. Normally, the swirl of her J and the relaxed curls of her R’s would be a source of great pride for her. Hell, her cursive had been part of the reason she’d gotten into the cake decorating business. Well, that and her Grandma Jo.

  Grandma Jo, please forgive me for what I just did, but I had no other choice.

  Jewelie could not endure the thought of disappointing her Grandma Jo. The woman had taken a run-down diner in Hollywood and transformed it over the course of fifty years into the place stars would stop by for their morning sugar fix. It was the place where Jewelie had spent her formative years not only learning everything the old woman knew about baking but running a successful business as well.

  It broke her heart to think about the years the two had spent in the kitchen baking everything from bread to baklava to croquembouche had become little more than a promissory note.

  When Grandma Jo became ill, she turned the daily operations over to her granddaughter, even though she was only eighteen at the time. Four years later, The Mad Batter and all the recipes the master baker had developed over the years were left to Jewelie. The last gifts, when her grandmother departed this world.

  Now her signature just looked flat and ugly. A tear threatened to fall and splatter the ink across the page.

  Quickly wiping her eye with the back of her hand, she straightened up and sat the pen beside the contract. She watched as the greasy man with the long, blonde hair, that reminded Jewelie of some never-was actor, sitting across from her flipped the paper around and read the contract aloud:

  “It is agreed by the signatories below, that if the defendant, Micah Thomas Reese, fails to appear in District Criminal Court on the 23rd of May, 2020, the deed for the property located at 7152 Santa Monica Boulevard, containing the bakery known as The Mad Batter, and all equipment within, which is now being held as collateral in lieu of bail, shall transfer ownership to The Out of Jail Card, Incorporated.”

  The bail bondsman slid the check across the table to Jewelie. She just looked at it in disgust and walked away.

  She heard her mom snatch the check from the desk while kissing the man’s ass for all his help. Anne quickly reassured him that Micah would be…

  Jewelie tuned out the rest of the conversation as she left the office. It was all she could do not to let her younger brother—half-brother from another father, to be correct—rot in jail.

  And she would have, too, if it had not been for her mom’s refusal to take NO as an answer. The constant calling and texting finally wore her down around 3:30 this morning, and, of course, her mom had already been in touch with a bondsman whose office was open 24/7. From what Jewelie had seen on TV, the seedy ones always were.

  But, then again, they did live in Hollywood, and the city could be just as cheap and sleazy as the guy she’d just signed her heart and soul over to.

  “Cunt!” Jewelie could not help belittling her mom, only to instantly feel bad for saying it.

  Redirecting her anger at the person who was responsible for this mess, she was about to unleash a torrent of obscenities toward Micah when she suddenly felt a tug on her elbow. Looking next to her, Jewelie saw her mom, pale and gasping for air.

  “Jesus, Jewels, why couldn’t you just wait another minute before you left in a huff? I was…”

  “You were what, Mom? Going to make more excuses for your worthless excuse of a son? Christ, how the fuck did he get himself mixed up in a murder for God’s sake?”

  “He’s innocent, Jew—”

  “Stop! Don’t even try to make up excuses for him, Mom! Because of him, I just signed away the one thing that matters to me. I hope to fuck you’re happy, and you damn well better make sure he shows up to court!”

  Jewelie paused, almost afraid to ask the next question. “Who did you say his lawyer was again? I’ll call him to make...”

  She watched as her mom’s eyes dropped shamefully from hers. Anne softly replied, “He has a court-appointed one.”

  “Oh my God, Mom! How could you fucking lie to—stupid me! Of course, if I’d known that, beforehand, I would have never gotten involved in any of this!” Jewelie spat. “Well, congrats, dumb-ass is as good as convicted! So, why didn’t you bother to hire a real one?”

  Tears streamed down the older woman’s face. There was once a time where Anne could have been the next IT GIRL. But the years since the car accident that had claimed the life of Jewelie’s dad, had not been kind to her. Along with the onset of rheumatoid arthritis, the stress of raising Micah on her own had left her looking older than a forty-five-year-old woman should appear.

  To this day, Micah’s mere existence was something Jewelie had never forgiven her mom for. Why she had been stupid enough to get pregnant again after her dad had died, was something that Jewelie had not understood.

  ‘Wasn’t it enough to raise me?’

  It was the point of contention that the two had never been ever to reconcile, and it drove them apart. It was also another reason she had been so close to her Grandma Jo.

  “Seriously, Jewelie? Don’t you think I would have if I could afford it?” Anne snapped back at her.

  “Look, Mom, I don’t have time to argue with you about this.” Turning her back on her mom, she started walking toward the parking lot, yelling back at Anne, without looking back, “Just go over to the Hollywood Station and post Micah’s bail. We’ll talk about this later.”

  Once she made it into her car, Jewelie lost what was left of her composure. “God Fucking Damn it, Micah!” She screamed at the steering wheel, as she pounded her fists against it. “How the hell did you get yourself mixed up in this fucking mess? Don’t you ever use that pea brain of yours for anything else besides fucking up everybody else’s life?”

&nbs
p; Taking a breath in, she tried to steady herself. She knew somebody in this family still had to go to work and come up with the money to straighten this mess out, and she was sure it was not going to be either her mom or Micah.

  Starting her car up, she slammed the shifter into gear and tore out of the parking lot.

  Chapter 2

  Marisol Perez was already hip-deep in morning customers by the time Jewelie made it back to the bakery. Mare shot a look full daggers at her best friend when their eyes momentarily locked.

  For the better part of the morning, she had been planning on how she was going to chew Jewels out for daring to come in late. It didn’t matter to Mare that it wasn’t her bakery in the first place—they both ran the place like she was a co-owner. And besides, she had been planning on coming down from her upstairs apartment only long enough to grab a couple of croissants and let Jewelie know she was calling in. Hell, after last night, she needed to spend the day recouping.

  But that plan went to shit when she came down and found nothing baking and only the day-old stuff in the cooler. Worse yet was the line of customers stacking up outside the front door that meant she was here for the duration.

  Jewels is definitely going to pay for this, she thought to herself, having just taken the umpteenth order of the day by the time the bakery’s owner had deemed the place worthy of her attention. Mare swore to herself that Jewels had better have some fucking juicy details about why she was this late. And maybe—just maybe—she’d forgive her if the story was told over a bottle of wine and dinner that Jewelie slaved over a hot stove to prepare. No amount of take-out chicken nor pizza would satisfy her mood at this point.

  To Mare’s surprise, instead of seeing Jewelie grab an apron and help clear out the remaining cluster of D-list celebrities, she saw her disappear into the back. Anger raged in the Latina’s dark-brown, eyes. “Puta,” she muttered to herself, giving up on getting any help and reconciled to the fact that she was on her own.

  As the morning flurry finally began to subside, and the mid-morning girls showed up for their shift, Mare stormed in through the door that separated the bakery from the kitchen to have a few, well-deserved Spanish expletives with her tardy boss.

  Instead of finding the mousy-brown haired woman holed up in her office, no doubt nursing a hangover, the scent of chocolate soufflé greeted her nose. An immediate frown spread across Mare’s face.

  No one, in their right mind, would ever serve soufflés in a bakery like this. Which meant only one thing, Jewels was in a bad mood. She only baked shit like that when she was pissed.

  She watched Jewelie from behind for a few moments, trying to size up the situation. With the amount of flour that covered both the prep table and her friend, it couldn’t be good.

  Mare quietly crept up behind Jewelie. She could hear her mumbling about how she was planning on disemboweling Micah.

  As Mare leaned closer to Jewelie’s ear to softly whispered, “What gives, Chica?” she hesitantly placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder. Mare could feel Jewelie’s slender body trembling beneath her touch.

  Jewelie jumped with a start. The whisk she’d been using to beat the eggs in the shiny, metal bowl, went skidding across the prep table—along with half the bowl of eggs. She had been concentrating so intently on everything that had happened this morning that she had not even heard anybody come into the kitchen.

  Turning to face Marisol, the tears she had fought so hard to control, broke free. The flour that already streaked her face, now began to cake as it absorbed the salty tears.

  Unable to understand a word Jewelie was babbling between the sobs, Mare just wrapped an arm around Jewelie and led her up the back staircase to the second-floor apartments. This is definitely something only Tequila can solve, she thought.

  The top floor of the two-story building contained a number of apartments. In addition to having been a diner in its earlier life, it had also served as a flop-house for the straight from the farm, new arrivals, determined to find stardom. The most famous tenant ever to grace this floor was some actress who managed to land a repeating role in a coffee commercial in the ‘60s.

  Most of the rooms now served as storage for the bakery, save the two apartments that Jewelie and Marisol had procured for themselves. It was to the door at the far end of the hall that Mare was shepherding Jewelie.

  Mare did not want to waste time with the convenience store shit that Jewelie kept at her place. ‘One of these days, that stuff will kill you,’ was the mantra Mare would continually preach at Jewels.

  With Jewelie still a blubbering mess from whatever was going on, Mare just opened the door to her apartment and led her over to the couch. Leaving her there, she wandered into the kitchen to gather a couple of glasses and a fresh bottle. As she moved back to the living room, she grabbed a damp towel to wipe the gooey flour off of Jewelie’s face.

  A sudden memory struck her heart. It was a fleeting glimpse of a time before there were two apartments up here.

  Once upon a time, the two were a couple that shared not only Jewelie’s place but also her bed. Jewelie and Marisol deeply loved each other and made all sorts of plans for the future in the security of each other’s arm.

  But in life sometimes you discover that dreams don’t always come true.

  Marisol was crushed when she had to finally face the realization that she had fallen in love with someone who could not overcome the fear of having to go public with their commitment. That night, two years ago, the two cried on the same couch Jewels was sitting on right now.

  But Mare found an inner strength to give up a lover in order to keep the friend who would always have her back. It didn't mean that Marisol ever stopped loving Jewelie, but their relationship had just morphed into what it was today.

  They agreed to take the apartments at the opposite ends of the floor for the sake of the other's privacy, though they still spent more time together than apart.

  Quietly settling on the couch next to Jewelie, Mare tenderly cupped Jewelie’s chin and raised her face towards her. Reaching up, she took the cap off that Jewels tucked her hair up into when she baked. Pulling the scrunchie free, Mare ran her fingers through Jewelie’s hair as it tumbled down her back.

  Jewelie’s eyes widen. At this moment she wasn’t sure what Mare had in mind, but she sure the fuck was not in the mood.

  The expression on Jewels’ face caused Mare to chuckle a bit. But, like a concerned parent providing first-aid to a child who’d taken her first spill learning to ride a bike, Mare simply picked up the rag and gently wiped the flour and tears from Jewelie’s cheeks.

  Though in the back of Mare’s brain she still could not help but think, Even as a mess, she’s still beautiful.

  “Now then, Muñeca,” she said in her best soothing voice, trying to shake that last thought out of her consciousness, “tell Mamá Marisol what has her little chica all worked up.”

  The entire story of what had transpired earlier in the morning poured out of Jewelie’s mouth. Sometimes the anger caused the jumbled mass to be incoherent. Other times, it was the flood of tears that had the same effect.

  In either case, Mare just sat, suddenly dumbfounded, listening to how Micah, according to Anne, had been “talked into” doing a favor for a friend and drive him to somebody’s house. Of how he “supposedly” had no idea anything was happening inside until he heard a gunshot, and his friend came running out of the house.

  The more she heard Jewelie recount the events of what Micah had done, the worse it got. Supposedly, the friend had only brought the gun with him in case something went wrong, and that he never intended on using it. The dumbass then agreed to drive out to Santa Monica Pier and throw the gun in the ocean.

  As if her blood was not boiling enough, hearing what Anne had done to get Jewelie involved pushed her over the edge. Hearing Jewelie’s confession that she had been conned by her mother to sign away not only the bakery but their entire home away, was more than she could take.

 
Jewels’ aqua-blue eyes, awash with even more tears, lifted up to Mare’s. The rage and fire reflected in the dark-brown almost frightened her. Yes, she had seen the anger in them before when they had fought. What she had experienced was nothing like what reflected in Mare’s eyes now. They almost seemed black.

  Trembling, she reached out to touch Mare’s arm, trying to ease the mood. “It will be alright,” was all Jewels managed. The sharp smack to her hand caused her to wince and draw it back.

  Rising to her feet, Marisol immediately began pacing back and forth across the floor trying to fathom everything she had just heard. Exasperated, she screamed at the ceiling, “Cómo pudiste hacer eso, Jewels?!?”

  “Calm down, Marisol. The customers will hear you downstairs!”

  “A quién mierda le importa!” Mare yelled back at her.

  “I fucking care, that’s who!”