Deep, Deep Donuts by Megan Wade
Tamara
“Can you see him anywhere?” I ask Sasha as I drive alongside the lake, looking for somewhere to park the donut truck for the day. She presses her hands against the passenger window to cut down on the glare and peruses the pathways.
“Not yet.” She turns and her brown eyes meet mine. “Maybe we should circle around once more just to make sure we didn’t miss him. It’d suck if we got all set up and then his gorgeous ass comes cycling right up. Total waste of a day.”
“Right?” I say, entering the closest parking area so we can get a better view. “I mean, I love to watch Officer Lee pedaling his bike, but at the same time, seeing him fills me with dread. Its cruel that something so delicious should have such negative consequences.”
Sasha giggles and flicks her dark, honey-streaked hair over his tan shoulder. “Just like donuts, huh?”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’ve got me there. Not that donuts matter to you. You’re rail thin no matter how much junk you eat. Me, I look at them and my ass expands. But I’m past the point of caring. Life’s too short to miss out on good things.”
“Maybe you should keep that in mind while dealing with the hottie bike cop? Perhaps a little flirtation, a free donut or two, and you can woo the sexy man with your feminine wiles and amazing baking skills.”
“Ha!” It’s not so much as laugh as it is a burst of amused negativity. “You and I both know that a man like that is not looking twice at a woman like me. And I’m totally fine with that, because there are men out there who love girls like me who are larger than life,” I say, gesturing to my abundant figure. “Did you know they have plus sized dating apps now? It’s getting easier and easier for those of us living outside the socially accepted box to find a date.”
“Oh yeah? And are you on these dating apps?” She looks at me and smiles, already knowing the answer because for some reason, I’ve always struggled with putting myself out there. But I suppose that’s what comes with a lifetime of being teased for my size and having a tenuous grip on my current self-esteem levels. I mean, I try hard to ‘love the body I’m in’ but it’s damn hard some days. Despite all of my self-love work, I’m just not ready to offer up my heart and have it returned to me damaged. And maybe I never will be ready. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the male form from afar though.
“I’m waiting to see what the reviews say,” I tell her pointedly, not missing the way she smiles then turns back to scanning the paths around Lovers Lake for any sign of our sexy bike cop.
“Looks like we’re in the clear,” she says finally. “No bike cops anywhere. He obviously hasn’t started his shift yet.”
“OK. Let’s set up on the south side of the lake today. I don’t think we’ve been there for a few days.”
“Aye-aye, donut capt’n!” Sasha says in her best pirate voice as we pull up onto a grassy area within view of the lakefront. We’re setting up a little earlier than we normally do, but already, there are plenty of people relaxing by the water, portable BBQs going, beer flowing. In the distance, a figure tumbles through the air after being launched off a water pillow. The girl is in a string bikini, and I can’t help but imagine what’d happen to my ginormous boobs in the same getup. I’d go up with a bikini on and come down looking like I’m wearing nothing but dental floss. No, thank you.
“Did they have that set up when you were a kid?” I ask Sasha as she collects her lounging chair and towel, ready to set up and be my warning cry.
“The water pillow?”
I nod. “Looks like fun.”
“Oh yeah. They’ve been doing stuff like that forever. Sometimes they have a water gauntlet set up and you have to run through the obstacles as fast as you can so you don’t fall off. It was a riot. We can come back and give it a go later if you like?”
“Think I’m a bit old for such things.”
Sasha laughs. “Mara, you’re twenty-five, not eighty-five. Although, even if you were eighty-five, I’d still insist you let loose every now and then and have some fun. You work far too much.”
“I need the money,” I say as I bounce a shoulder. Sasha gives me a pointed look, then lowers her sunglasses over her eyes and opens the back of the van, hopping out with a happy sigh.
“I’ll see you back at the house after your next grand escape.”
“OK. Don’t forget the sun cream.” I toss her the bottle and she catches it with one hand.
“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”
I pull the door shut after she saunters off, looking the epitome of an American girl in summer, happy and carefree. Which I think is what I like most about her. Sasha and I met about a year and a half into college when she got a transfer into my women’s studies course. She comes from a well-to-do family and has a natural ability to find the best in any situation, which has really helped her post-college with her life-coaching business. I, in contrast, come from a single parent, wrong-side-of-the-tracks situation. I was never popular like she was, and I tended to be cautious and wary instead of open and giving. Despite our differences, we hit it off right away, and even though I had to drop out about six months later when my mom passed away suddenly, we never lost touch, and she never once made me feel like I had to hide my grief at any point in the years following mom’s passing. She held my hand, she listened to me cry and somehow through all of it, she managed to make me laugh and find a bit of sunshine in all that gray. She has truly been amazing to me. And when I decided to buy a food truck instead of going back to college, she was the first person to join my cheer squad.
“OK,” I say to myself, dusting my hands on the side of my pink, frilly apron once I’ve finished setting everything up. “Looks like we’re ready to go.” I get up early and pre-bake all the glazed and jelly-filled creations, and throughout the day, I have freshly cooked donuts traveling through the automated fryer for so the whole van always smells like hot sugar and fried bread—yum!
Placing my hands on the shutter, I flick the lock and lift it up, smiling brightly when I see the line already stretching out along the path.
“Welcome! Who’s first?”
“I am,” a young woman says, placing an order for half a dozen jelly-filled with chocolate glaze and sprinkles. She hands over her money and the next person steps up, repeating the process but ordering a dozen hot cinnamon—the definite crowd favorite.
This goes on for about an hour, the line seeming to never get any smaller as I rush about, cooking, packaging and serving, keeping one eye on my cell while hoping I can truly get to a point where I’m sold out today. I swear Officer Lee hasn’t had a single day off all summer, but I’m starting to hope for one when I hit my third hour and the line seems to thin out a little.
“Phew,” I say to myself, taking a cool drink of water the moment I get my first breather.
“Thirsty work, huh?” a male voice says as I replace the cap on my water and pat my heated face with a serviette.
“Summer in a van with a fryer on is definitely warm,” I say with a smile, leaning down to the window before pausing suddenly, my breath caught in my chest. “O-officer Lee.” His name falls from my lips in a gasp.
“Finally made it to the service window,” he says, smiling like he’s the cat who caught the cream—or the donut maker. My eyes fly to my cell, finding there’s no message alert to warn me. I’m frantically trying to figure out how he got past Sasha when I realize he’s wearing plain clothes. The man is either off duty, or this is some sort of sting. Either way, I’m not sticking around to find out.
“We’re sold out,” I say quickly, pulling the shutter down and flicking the lock.
“Hey!”
Springing to action, I flick the fryer off and secure the lid before jumping into the driver’s seat and turning the key. The engine roars to life, just as a voice says, “Stop!” from behind me. I turn to find Officer Lee opening the back of my van and climbing on board.
“Eek!” My eyes go wide, and I plant my foot, fishtailing it out of there.
Does it count as kidnapping if I accidentally take the officer with me?
