Cupcake Kissin’ 83 – Alex Ankarr
But as he swivels around, he relaxes. Because yes, ten or fifteen feet away is a pink-overalled, hair-netted individual, with his back to Caspar, pulling out a trolley that bears the monstrous great cake. (Which is rather ugly in Caspar’s estimation, but Sam and Sara approved it. And where are they, anyhow, because now it occurs to him that not only Mack is missing, though they are only about tenth down on the list of his priorities right now, after shutting up atrocious piano-man and re-hanging the drape that’s fallen down, never mind his own special cakes and Mack.) And he turns, to dash and alert the professional musician they’ve hired, the one who actually should be doing the Happy Birthday honours. Mack must be here, for things to be springing into place, and getting it right, now, is more important than seeing him, right now. Caspar will have his chance later – he hopes.
At least, that’s the theory, upon which he’s operating. But he finds himself frustrated in his plan, because he’s grabbed by one arm, and then the other, and then he’s stuck and held in place. It’s Sam, at his left hand, and Sara, at his right, and he’s confounded, outraged. (Although it does at least solve the mystery of where the hell the pair of them have got to. Caspar does wonder, now, if he was better off wondering it, and without their presence, than he is presently.) ‘Let me go,’ he says irritably, now. ‘I need to sort out the music, because whoever’s butchering Happy Birthday over there is, well, butchering it. So I have to go.’ And he gives a little tug, but they are stupidly uncooperative.
‘Oh, quit wriggling,’ Sam says cheerfully. ‘And blow out a few candles, why don’t you.’
Because for some reason, the dumb-ass he has evidently hired, the one in the pink overall who’s manning the cake-trolley, is heading right towards them, and by that, Caspar means right towards them, to him specifically. And for why? It makes no sense. But it’s unarguable, and unavoidable, and then it’s right there, the trolley.
And Caspar has his mouth open ready, because this employee is evidently a great idiot, and needs a dressing down from someone of natural authority and a stern disposition – or failing that, from Caspar – and Caspar is the fellow to give it to him.
And he would, too, except that moment, that’s the moment that the pink-jacketed one drags the trolley right by him, and turns to face him, and.
© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014
No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.
Photo credit: duncan johnston under Creative Commons licence modified for book cover use.