Page 56 of Drowning in the Deep
CHAPTER38
DAEMON
Elisa’s smile warmed my heart in ways I’d never truly experienced before. As I got out of the car and headed inside the bakery, I tried to identify exactly what it was I was feeling, but it was hard to put a name on it. Seeing her so injured, yet so brave, had affected me in ways I didn’t know how to express. All I knew was that I wanted her by my side all the time now. I never wanted her father to have another opportunity to snatch her away from me, and I never wanted to see anyone hurt her again.
A bell rang over the door as I walked inside the old brick building that had probably sat in this area of Chicago for over a hundred years. No other customers were mingling about, which did seem a little strange to me for a Saturday, but this was one of those parts of town that hadn’t quite taken off as trendy but wasn’t a slum either. Perhaps there was a donut shop nearby, and people who lived in the apartments a few blocks over preferred to get their pastries from that place instead of this one. Judging by the cakes, cookies, and pies displayed behind glass in front of the counter, this place specialized in desserts more so than breakfast foods anyway.
As I approached the glass to have a look at the already-made cakes, a woman walked out from the back. Tall, with blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, she wore a friendly smile. She looked like she could’ve been about my mother’s age and wore a white apron over a red and white plaid checkered dress. “Good morning, sir,” she said cheerfully. “How are you this fine day?”
“I’m good,” I told her, my eyes wandering from one large cake to the next. The one with chocolate frosting looked good. It had big globs in the shape of those candy kisses along the edges. Next to it sat a square cake with yellow frosting and a flurry of autumn leaves piped onto it. Neither of them looked quite right. “How are you?” I asked, remembering my manners.
“I’m doing well, thank you,” she replied. “Is there something in particular I can help you with today?”
Letting out a sigh, I rocked back and forth on my heels. Since I’d never picked out a birthday cake before, I had no idea if I was doing it right, though it seemed pretty simple. You walk into a bakery, find a cake that you like, buy it, take it home, put some candles on it, sing a song everyone knows all the words to, and the person blows out the candles. Then, you eat the damn thing. Really, that seemed pretty cut and dry.
Nevertheless, she was the cake expert. Glimpsing a large white cake with tiny flecks of red cake all around the sides, I asked, “What kind of cake is that?”
“This one?” she asked, gesturing to the one I’d been referring to. “Oh, this is a red velvet cake,” she explained. “Have you ever had a slice before?”
“No,” I told her. I’d never even heard of a red velvet cake before, though I liked the name. “What is it exactly?”
“The cake itself is fairly similar to a chocolate cake, though it has a few ingredients that make it different, like vinegar. And red food dye. The cake is bright red inside, like these little pieces we sprinkle around the outside. It’s beautiful and delicious. The recipe I use is my great-grandmother’s. It’s been handed down from generation to generation.” Her smile grew even wider as she proudly spoke of her family heritage.
I smiled back, nodding. I certainly liked the idea of blood red cake. The contrast with the white frosting made it pop even more. Though, I wasn’t certain what a cake with vinegar in it would taste like, I found that fitting as well. Life wasn’t always sweet. Sometimes it could get a little sour, and you had to balance that out the best you could. “That sounds great,” I said. “I’ll take that one.”
Pulling it out from the display case, she said, “Wonderful. I’ll take it to the back and box it up. Would you like for me to write anything on it for you? I’m happy to if it’s for a special occasion.”
I hadn’t even considered that they would do something like that, though it made sense. Maybe I wasn’t so good at this cake-picking business after all. “Uh, how about, ‘Happy Birthday Elisa’?” Seemed simple and straightforward enough.
Her smile widened even more. “A birthday cake. How delightful! Birthdays always bring people together. It makes me so happy to know one of my cakes will be used to celebrate such a special occasion. I’m sure that Elisa will love it. I’ll be right back.” She carefully carried the cake back through a door that appeared to lead to the bakery itself. I watched her go and then returned my attention to the display cases, wandering around aimlessly as I waited for her to return.
Stepping in front of another display case, I looked at everything they had to offer there. Cookies in a variety of flavors including everything from my favorite, chocolate chip, to something that looked like those nasty oatmeal raisin cookies that sometimes fooled me into thinking they were chocolate chip when I was a child, were laid out along with dozens of others I couldn’t even name. Next to them was an arrangement of little pies and other pastries with fruit on top.
All of this seemed surreal to me. What the fuck was I doing in a bakery on a Saturday morning? I was like one of those pretentious suburbanites who’d hopped out of bed, went for a run, came home, took a shower, and then climbed into his Volvo to drive into town to find his loving wife a little snacky-snack for her birthday. I could never be someone like that, someone so fucking normal and predictable—could I?
I chuckled under my breath at the idea, and my eyes went out to the car, which was sitting right in front of the large glass window. I had left it running so that Elisa would be comfortable inside. I could see her now, sitting there in the passenger seat, twirling a lock of her white-blonde hair around her finger. She wasn’t looking at me. I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to see into the bakery from that angle even if she was, but her head was oriented so that she was peering out the windshield of the car.
Who knew what she was thinking about? Was she reliving the horror she’d gone through this past week at the hands of her own father? Was she wondering what else I had in store for her on her birthday? Sadly, I hadn’t thought ahead enough to get her any presents. Now, I wished I would have. I wished I would’ve taken the time to search up what normal people purchased for someone they cared about for their birthday and gotten her a gift or two. I could’ve stopped by a big box store and bought a roll of pink wrapping paper, maybe a bow, and a card. Oh, and that fucking clear tape that always got stuck to the paper in the wrong place. Images of me wrapping up something nice for her in a square box filled my mind. What would she even want? A new sweater? Some perfume? A fucking puppy? I couldn’t wrap that, I supposed.
If Elisa and I stayed together, was that what I’d be doing next year? What would she do for my birthday? It wouldn’t be long until I was turning another year older. Would she come back to this same bakery to pick out a cake for me? Fuck, she’d probably make it herself. She was better at being a normal human being than I would ever be, which was surprising because she’d been through just as much shit as I had been.
But she’d fought against it. Where I’d eventually embraced this criminal lifestyle, made it my own, she had never wanted to have anything to do with it to begin with. I watched her as she continued to loop that strand of hair around her finger. She would’ve been a great ordinary person. Hell, she would’ve made a great lawyer if her father hadn’t fucked it all up.
Now, she had been sucked so far into this life that she couldn’t ever get out, and it wasn’t just a matter of her father dying either. If she really wanted to be with me for the long haul, she’d have to realize that there’d be no normal involved, not with what I’d gotten myself into. I was born into this, but rather than trying to get out, I’d dug myself further and further into the crime family world so that now the only way my reign was ending was if I died—and I wasn’t planning on doing that any time soon.
I ran my hand over the front of my suit. I was still wearing exactly what I’d worn to the wedding the night before, and I was sure it smelled like a house fire. I should’ve taken a shower or changed clothes, but I’d been busy and hadn’t wanted to leave Elisa for the time it would’ve taken to do all that. Not that she would’ve let me anyway.
After what seemed like ten or fifteen minutes, I turned back around and looked at the door that led to the bakery, wondering what the fuck was taking so long. Was she rebaking the damn cake or just writing Elisa’s name on it? I cleared my throat rather loudly and took a few steps toward the cash register. If she didn’t hurry up, I’d have to say something. I had things to do, after all.
Before I could work out whether enough time had passed to check on the lady, the door swung open and another woman walked out carrying a box that I presumed had the cake in it. “So sorry,” she said, her words slightly stilted. “Here we are.”
I stared at her for a moment. Something about her seemed familiar to me, though I couldn’t place her. Dark hair bluntly cut at her shoulders and even darker eyes, she didn’t smile as she set the cake down on the counter. When I arched an eyebrow at her, wondering if I had met her somewhere before, what could only be described as a forced grin took over her face.
“Why don’t you come have a look and see if I spelled your girlfriend’s name correctly?” she beckoned.
My eyes stayed locked on hers for a moment as I went back over the conversation I’d had with the other woman. Had I mentioned Elisa was my girlfriend? I was pretty sure I hadn’t.
Deciding it was probably just an assumption, I stepped over to the counter and looked through the clear plastic top of the box. It was the same cake all right, but as I read the message, my blood ran cold, and suddenly, I recognized who this woman was.
