B01HLCU8FG EBOK

  The Butcher, The Baker, The Custom Bike Maker: The Myer Triplets

  The Baker

  © 2016 Mathew Ortiz

  Editor: Millie Buvamonteezi

  Cover Designer: Christine Eberle Barrron

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actually persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only; any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material, is a model. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to prosecution. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission of the author: lisaworrall69@gmail.com

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Thank you for your purchase of this title. I sincerely hope you enjoy this read but would ask that you please remember that the only money authors like myself make from writing is from the sales of my books. If you like my stories, please feel free to spread the word and tell others, but please refrain from sharing this book in any form, as I depend on sales to support my family. If you see this book or any other written by me offered on pirate sites, please report the offending entry to: Mathew Ortiz

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  About Me

  Also available

  Dedication

  Tim, you were my happily ever after,

  however, you were taken from me too soon.

  You cheered me on, loved me, argued with me

  and stood by me for nineteen wonderful years.

  I’ll continue to write happily ever afters

  because my love for you will never, ever fade.

  Until we meet again, my love.

  Matt

  The Butcher,

  the Baker,

  the Custom Bike Maker:

  The Myer Triplets

  The Baker

  By Mathew Ortiz

  Chapter 1

  Robbie

  “Oh thank you Lord above. I’m so happy you’re here, Robbie.” Ms. Mabel nearly wailed as I walked into her kitchen. She flung her hands at the two men sitting at her table. “We need your help sumthin’ fierce. We ain’t gettin’ nowhere with the weddin’ plans and they’re turnin’ my hair grayer than it already is!”

  “Aw, Momma—”

  “Don’t you, aw Momma, me!” she snapped and I smothered a grin as Emmett carded his fingers through his wavy brown hair, embarrassed.

  “Please don’t get upset, Ms. Mabel.” Alex attempted to placate her. “It’s not been that bad—”

  “Not that bad! Not. That. Bad?” Disbelief flooded her motherly features. “If it was left up to Emmett, the whole weddin’ would be done in camouflage. And don’t you laugh, Alex King. If you had your way, it would look like a Victorian whorehouse!”

  Both men blushed and I strode over to pat Ms. Mabel on the arm. “Don’t worry. I’m here to fix everythin’.” I pulled up a chair at the table and sat down. Ms. Mabel bustled over to the fridge and poured me a glass of sweet tea then joined us.

  “Give me what you have so far.” I wiggled my fingers at Alex and, after casting Emmett a sideways glance, he pushed their wedding planner book across the table. I pulled it toward me and opened it. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Ms. Mabel was pretty close in her estimations. Emmett wanted a natural, rustic, outdoorsy style of ceremony. A little too au naturel for my taste. Logs for the guests to sit on, an arbor of twigs for the ceremony and no dress code. Was he serious, no dress code? In our family that could be construed to mean flip-flops and sleeveless T-shirts!

  I flipped past Emmett’s wish list and almost swallowed my tongue as Alex’s pages came into view. It looked like someone had vomited lace all over the page. Photos of white flowers, white lace, white chairs, massive swags of white fabric and piles on piles of white bunting adorned page after page of Alex’s wish list. I’m a fan of white, anyone who has seen my apartment can attest to that, but it was the freakish amount of ‘girlification’ that appalled my sense of style.

  Oh boy, did I have my work cut out for me. Now I realize why Aunt Mabel was pulling her hair out. These two were on completely opposite pages.

  “I’m going to be diplomatic about this. Did you two even discuss what you wanted for your wedding? You know, with each other?”

  “I-I mean we tried,” Alex answered and blushed. “Ms. Mabel said to give her our ideas.”

  “Which we did!” Emmett groused, leaning back in his chair.

  “That’s when I knew I was in trouble.” Ms. Mabel sighed dejectedly. “Neither of these two wants to budge on what they want and I can’t even begin to figure out how to make it work. That’s why I called you, Robbie. I know you have great taste. I hate to take you away from your new job an’ all but—”

  “It’s okay, Aunt Mabel,” I said soothingly and closed the book. “I took a long weekend and my boss is fine with it. Besides, you’re my family and Gaither’s take care of their own.” I sipped my tea and savored the sugary goodness. No one made tea like Aunt Mabel and with one sip you felt you were home. I haven’t found anyone in Atlanta who could brew tea like her.

  “I also get a chance to see Dad and Oscar.” My smile faltered.

  “How’s your Daddy doing?” Emmett asked as he sat up and reached over, touching my arm.

  “Cranky as a grizzly bear.” Tears welled in my eyes. “The pneumonia really knocked the stuffing out of him.”

  My father, Eli Gaither, had caught a cold a few months ago and none of us had thought much about it. He’d been working like crazy, long hours, late nights and Oscar had commented to me during one of our phone calls that my dad seemed tired. But my dad was a stubborn son of a bitch and refused to slow down—until he collapsed at a job. He was rushed to Tatesville’s hospital and was admitted immediately to the ICU with bacterial pneumonia.

  By the time I arrived, Oscar was already at his side. His face drenched in tears, Oscar had sat holding my father’s hand while he prayed in Spanish. I almost lost it myself at the sight of my dad in that hospital bed. I’d expected my father to be ill, but not on a ventilator. His pneumonia was so severe that, even on supplemental oxygen, his saturation couldn’t be stabilized and it continued to drop dangerously. To keep him from going into respiratory arrest, the medical team had intubated him. Seeing my big, strapping, tank of a father lying there pale as a ghost with a machine breathing for him, shook me to my core.

  I never imagined not having him in my life. Eli Gaither had survived a stint in the Marines, got married, had three kids, divorced and then found love with Oscar Hernandez. My father was larger than life. He was a pillar of strength and seeing him so frail and gray was shattering.

  He’d ended up staying in the hospital for over a month. And by the time he came out, my father was forty pounds thinner, weak as a kitten and as pleasant as a sabretooth tiger. He hated being so weak and he lashed out at all of us, although poor Oscar bore the brunt of his anger. I heard them fighting like never before and I was worried it would break them.

  Dad was still recovering when Ms. Mabel called, desperate for help with Emmett and Alex’s nupt
ials. I was going to visit this weekend anyway, so this was my chance to check up on my dad and Oscar.

  “I hear Oscar spent last weekend with Bumper and Hale,” Alex said and I nodded. Oscar had taken the offer of a weekend away from my dad, and my uncle Cornelius stayed to mind him. Of course, that had gone over like a ton of bricks and led to another epic fight between Oscar and Dad.

  “Oscar needed the break,” Emmett countered. “Uncle Eli is being a bastard—”

  “Emmett! Language!” Ms. Mabel scolded.

  “Language nothin’, Momma. Eli has been a huge honkin’ asshole to everyone, especially Oscar.” Emmett was unapologetic. “He even yelled at you!”

  I balked. “Oh, Aunt Mabel, did he?” She nodded slowly. “I’m so sorry. He’s not himself.”

  “Emmett’s right. He’s being an asshole,” she confirmed with a shrug and we all laughed.

  To hear Ms. Mabel curse was like meeting the Pope—momentous. My phone pinged and I flipped open the screen. I held up my hand, palm outwards, so I could check my messages.

  “Bear with… bear with… bear with.” Seven messages blinked at me: four from work, one from Oscar and one from Bumper. It appeared that my weekend was going to be packed. I waved the screen off and turned back to my family. “I’m back.”

  I caught Emmett whispering to Alex. Whatever it was made Alex’s giggle and his ears go pink. If ever I needed an example of true love, of a happily ever after, all I had to do was look at these two. Emmett and Alex met through Ms. Mabel. She’d set the two up on a date and sparks flew. She’d been at Alex’s bank, needing a loan, and decided she liked the young banker, and he would be perfect for her son. I have to give her credit, the woman had balls and she had been spot on with those two. They were so in love and after so many years together, they were finally getting married.

  I only hoped one day to find a man who looked at me the way Emmett looked at Alex. In the meantime, I pursued my career with a vengeance.

  “I’m going to head over to Dad’s.” I stood and stretched before I nabbed their book and tucked it under my left arm. “Give me until Sunday and I’ll give you some options. Then we can go from there.”

  “Oh, I forgot. Rising Son’s can’t do the cake. Their decorator, Marilee, is out with a torn rotator cuff,” Alex interjected before I could get very far.

  “What about Pretnam’s Bakery?” I asked and Ms. Mabel’s expression grew stormy.

  “Francis Pretnam said she won’t do no hom’sexual weddin’ cake.” Emmett’s voice was tight and anger radiated off him.

  I was genuinely appalled. The Pretnams had been friends of the Gaithers for years. I was surprised by this news.

  “Francis said it was against her religious beliefs,” my aunt scoffed. “I couldn’t believe her! Getting’ all holy on me an’ all. Lord knows that woman was a bonified slut when we were teenagers. I’m amazed at how people forget their sins and judge others. Well, I’ll say one thing; Francis Pretnam dug her own grave. The whole of the Gaither clan have boycotted her store. As have the Whitmores, the Shushacovas and the Middletons.”

  I winced. Damn, my aunt was mad and I’m sure she’d had a hand in this. She and my uncle Abe were the understood heads of the Gaither clans. The Whitmores, Shushacovas and Middletons were all married into the Gaithers and it would seem that a royal decree had banned all interaction with the Pretnam Bakery. They would survive but not prosper. Life in a small town had its advantages and disadvantages and angering one of the most influential families in the town was chancy at best.

  “I was plum despairin’ about the cake until your cousin Martin recommended a baker in east Atlanta. Emmett and Alex are going there on Monday to meet with the man and see if he could do their cake.” Mabel smiled and Alex and Emmett looked relieved.

  “I’m going with you to the bakery, because I am not going to let you two go alone to some random cake decorator in Atlanta,” I pronounced with a tap of my fingertip on the oak table top. “You both have horrible taste. I mean, if it were up to Emmett, your cake would be made of scooter pies. Don’t you laugh, Mr. King. If you had your way the whole thing would be made of chocolate and look like a tower of crap!”

  Emmett laughed at Alex’s outrage, earning him a nipple pinch. He yelped and swatted away his fiancé’s hands. No way was I letting those two out of my sight. Aunt Mabel had called on me for my help and I was going to give it to her.

  But then it made sense that she would call me. Since graduating college months ago, I had been working for Infinity Events and was making a name for myself in the Atlanta social circles. I specialized in corporate events but I did do weddings and birthdays on the side. Why, just last month, one of my events was covered in the local gazette. A big event… Autumn House.

  I had overseen the launch of the new Autumn House extravaganza. The design event’s popularity had grown in leaps and bounds and the previous event planners hadn’t been able to keep up. My boss, Alvin Brampton, had heard through the grapevine that the Autumn House committee had fired the previous firm and was shopping around for a new one.

  As soon as he mentioned it at the morning staff meeting, I spoke up and told him I wanted to do the presentation. I kept my cool as six heads turned to look at me, some in disbelief, others in disdain but I persisted. I asked Alvin for one week to show him what I could do. To my shock, he conceded. I was sure he’d say no, especially since I had turned him down for dinner only weeks prior. He was a nice-looking guy an’ all but was way too dramatic for me.

  I had spent six days and nights busting my ass and presented a kickass event, complete with a list of vendors and trades who would do the job and the total cost. What I hadn’t told Alvin or my fellow employees was that I’d called on friends of my family and various contacts. I’d shamelessly called my old college drinking buddy, Van Masterson, at Wolfsbane Bar to do the bartending—for half the cost. I called on my cousin Martin for help lining up trucking and transport and I convinced my kind of Uncle, Valentino, to do the food. He owned Avanti Blue, Vermillion Crush and Whisper’s Green, three of Atlanta’s hottest restaurants and seeing his name on the presentation made some of the other planners’ jaws drop.

  I wowed Autumn House’s committee and landed us one of the largest accounts to date. Needless to say, I was the golden boy at the moment. But I never forgot my family, especially my aunt Mabel. When she’d called, near tears, to tell me she was certain my cousin Emmett’s wedding was going to be a fiasco, I jumped into action. I took a long weekend, drove down to my dad and Oscar’s place in Tatesville and called an emergency meeting of all parties.

  “I’ll call you when I’m ready. I’ll be over at Dad’s.” I grabbed my satchel and stuffed the book inside, then slung the strap over my shoulder and made my way to the door. Ms. Mabel, Emmett and Alex followed behind. Hugging them, I skipped down the back stairs to the driveway and strode to my Corolla. I opened the door and got in. After I buckled up, I started her up, pulled out of the drive and headed to my father’s house. I prayed he was going to be in a good mood.

  *

  “I don’t want your help! I can do it my own fuckin’ self.” I heard the roar of my dad’s voice rattling the windows of his house as I trotted up the stairs to the front door. So much for him being in a good mood.

  “Stop yelling at me! I’m so tired of you yelling at me. Nothing I do is right!” Oscar shouted as I cracked the door open

  “Stop coddlin’ me then! I’m a grown man—”

  “Fine, fine. I’m sorry I love you so much that you think I’m coddling you. Do it your own damn self.” Oscar’s voice sounded weary. “Ridiculous! Stubborn, bullheaded man!”

  I paused as I entered the entry way and closed the door behind me. I dropped my bag and padded silently toward the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry, babe.” My dad’s voice was hoarse.

  “I know.”

  “I-I hate bein’ so weak.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you still love me?” My da
d sounded so tired.

  “You know I do.” Oscar sounded equally tired. I stomped my foot loudly to let them know I was there, turned the corner into the kitchen and saw Oscar wrapped in my father’s arms.

  My father was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island. Oscar was wedged between his legs as they kissed deeply. I can’t remember a time when my mother and father had ever been affectionate like that with each other during all the years they were married. When they divorced, I blamed my father for the whole thing. No way was my mother responsible for any of their problems. Boy, was I ever wrong. My sister and brother, who had either remained neutral or were on Dad’s side, bore the brunt of her righteous fury. I was exempt because I was on her side and I never felt the sting of her tongue.

  Time passed and Vivienne and Thomas moved out to start their own lives and, more importantly, to get away from our mom. With them gone, she started on me and to make matters worse, I realized I preferred guys to girls. My mom is a religious zealot and after learning why my parents divorced, I found her shoved down your throat faith, comically ironic. My father divorced her after he found out, while he was on tour with the Marines, my mom was… God, I hate even thinking this… banging every recruit on base.

  There was a period of time I fretted over the idea that I wasn’t my dad’s kid. I’m blond and he’s dark. But as I grew older, I began looking more and more like him and I think that’s why my mom started verbally abusing me. It culminated in me and my then boyfriend, Tim, getting caught in my room fooling around. Long story short, she kicked me out and I moved in with my dad. They fought over me but in the end I moved in permanently with him.

  During all of this upheaval, my dad began dating and fell in love with Oscar Hernandez—a much younger man. For the first time in my life, I saw my dad smile, laugh and just be happy. But that’s not my story, its Eli and Oscar Hernandez-Gaither’s tale.

  They stopped kissing but Oscar stayed snuggled in my dad’s arms. God, don’t cry Robbie! My big mountain of a father was noticeably thinner and sallow.