LET ME EAT CAKE

 

Late Spring, Pittsburgh; POV/Brian

Danny could be heard griping before he even got into the townhouse. I looked at Emmett.

“I hope you have some chocolate cake handy,” I told him. Emmett smiled and started toward the kitchen.

“I always have chocolate cake on hand. Bad day?” he asked over his shoulder.

“You could say that.” I started to explain but just then the front door flew open.

“Fucking idiots! Damn fucking idiots to hell!” Danny threw his suit jacket at the closet and slammed his computer bag onto the table by the entranceway.

“Rough day at the office, dear?” I asked, sotto voiced, which earned me a glare.

“I’m glad you find it funny – you should, it’s all your fault that I had to deal with fucking idiots all day!”

I considered walking over to give him a hug, but he was in too foul a mood and would probably reject any overtures at this point. At least, that is what I told myself – discretion being the better part of valor and all that. Better to let Em calm him with chocolate first. But, Emmett was now sidling back into the room, hands empty.

Danny paused in the middle of taking off his tie, looked at Em and said, “Em, please, if you love me, bring me some of your delicious cake!”

“Ah, baby, you know I love you,” Emmett said, wringing his hands. Danny narrowed his eyes.

“Em – I have had the day from hell, trying first to model for some truly asinine clients of Brian’s who insisted on watching the whole process and giving their unintelligible input, and then, when that was over, I was handed a deadline of today to submit the music for a commercial, which deadline would not have been a problem if the assistant that Brian so kindly saddled me with hadn’t barged into my studio just when I finished recording, and fucked the whole thing up. So, I’m begging you....bring me one of your delicious chocolate cakes. To start. This bad day might justify two.”

“You know I love you, Danny, and I would love to be able to soothe your spirits with a chocolate cake, but....” Emmett paused for some more hand wringing.

Danny flopped down onto the sofa and closed his eyes. “You don’t have any chocolate cake? You can’t love me.”

“I do! I do! It’s just that I forgot that Mary Pat called me late yesterday and asked if she could borrow a cake for the PFLAG meeting today. I had to say yes.”

“No you didn’t. You should have said no, told her to make her own cakes.”

“Like you would have been brave enough to say no to one of the dyke squad,” I teased.

“Sure I would, when it comes to something important like my dietary needs,” Danny grumbled. “Why should those wretched PFLAG women get my cake? Let them eat carrots...no, not carrots, let them eat broccoli.”

“I really had intended to have another one baked before you got home,” Emmett told him, “but I got busy with a new wedding client and the day got away from me.”

“I wonder if Mary Elizabeth has any cake made?” Danny mused. He jumped back up.

“Where are you going?” I asked, surprised. It was past nine o’clock on a Wednesday – not a usual time for Danny to be heading back out when he’d just arrived home from work. He hadn’t even taken his suit off; he got as far as the tie, which he now tossed at me.

“I’m going to visit my oldest sister – unlike Mary Pat, she knows how to bake.”

“Want company?” I asked.

“Will you want any cake for yourself?” the love of my life asked, his expression suspicious.

“Nope – not a chocolate cake man, anything you find, oh mighty cake hunter, is all yours,” I promised.

“You can come then, but leave the sarcasm here.”

I’d thought that Danny was kidding but the look he gave me didn’t seem like he was in the mood for any levity. Walking out to his Lotus, I tried making conversation. He stared at me.

“Brian...you don’t seem to understand...I am in a foul mood.”

“I’d figured that much out,” I told him. “So, is there anything remaining of your assistant?”

“I don’t really need an assistant,” was his answer. I bit back my initial retort, which would have noted all the severance I was paying out to his discarded assistants; Danny in a bad mood was like a bear with a sore paw. Only less reasonable. So far he’d gone through as many assistants as Murphy Brown.

He peeled out of the parking space with a screech of tires. I held onto the door and debated the wisdom of asking him to slow down.

“You do realize, don’t you, that if you crash this car, your ‘fix’ will be delayed. Last time I checked, they weren’t serving chocolate cake in ERs.”

He glanced over at me, then sped up. I didn’t say another word to him until we reached his sister’s house.

“Don’t you think you should at least have called her and checked to see if she wants company?” I looked doubtfully at the house. The windows were dark. I was sure that this O’Keefe probably was one of those early to bed, early to rise types.

Danny shook his head as he headed toward the front door. “If I’d called, she could have told me not to come over,” he said simply. He rang the bell.

Within a minute, Mary Beth’s husband, Colm, was opening the door. He was in his shirt sleeves and looked like he’d just woken up. I would have made some excuse then to leave but not my intrepid cake hunter. He smiled sweetly and asked for his sister. The man just opened the door, without saying anything. He grunted, however, which seemed to Danny to be a sufficient invitation to make himself at home. He sailed in and headed straight for the kitchen. I considered staying and making small talk with our host but his stoic demeanor convinced me I’d rather see how Danny intended to finesse a cake out of his oldest sister.

Mary Beth was in the kitchen frosting a cake. A chocolate cake. Danny was practically salivating as he hugged her.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” his clueless sister said, slightly breathless from the force of his hug. “Brian, Danny, can I offer you some coffee and cake?”

Before I could answer, Danny told her, “Brian doesn’t want any cake, but I would love a piece.” He went to her cabinet and got a plate for himself.

Mary Beth looked at me. “Are you sure, Brian? It’s a new recipe I just got.”

Seeing the look my beloved partner sent my way, I dutifully declined cake, though I did accept a cup of coffee. Mary Beth sliced Danny a huge piece of cake. He didn’t even sit at the table, but, leaning against the counter, he put a whopping forkful into his mouth – and almost spit it out. I had to elbow him – hard – to stop him from reacting any more. Mary Beth had missed his face since she was busy getting my coffee.

“So,” I said cheerfully. “New recipe is it?”

She beamed at me. “Yes. Danny should really love it – it’s completely healthy. And vegan! Instead of chocolate, it’s made with carob, and instead of butter, I used soy butter, and egg substitute, and practically no sugar.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Why vegan, Mary Beth? I’m not vegan.” I swear, there were tears in his eyes as he looked at the beautiful but inedible cake.

“I know you aren’t, but Katie is. This week. That’s my youngest,” she informed me. I smiled and took the plate from Danny. “Maybe I’ll try a bite or two of Danny’s,” I told her, “you’ve made it sound so delicious.”

“Have your own piece,” she offered generously. I shook my head. “I couldn’t...after seven and all that. But it does look too yummy to pass up.”

I took advantage of her looking in the refrigerator for some milk for Danny to dump the rest of the cake into the trashcan. She turned around at the sound of the lid closing but I gave her a bland look.

“Brian! You certainly must have liked it! You practically inhaled that piece. Let me get Danny another.”

“No!” Danny said quickly, then added, “I really just wanted to stop by and see how you were. I just never seem to get around to visit anymore. So, Katie is a vegan, how about that.”

I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing at his attempt to get away quickly without hurting his sister’s feelings. He did – but not without agreeing to sing at young Katie’s high school graduation party. In less than ten minutes, we were back in the Lotus. I managed to slip into the driver’s seat ahead of him.

“Hey! My car!” he complained as he walked around to the passenger side.

“I’m doing this totally for your own good,” I assured him. “A chocolate-deprived Danny is a menace on the roads.”

“Can you believe she made that thing? I’d need a gallon of soda to wash that down. One bite was bad enough. Carob! Mama is spinning in her grave.”

“I don’t know. A yummy soy carob cake...what’s not to like?” I smirked at him.

“It’s an abomination.”

“Where next, oh desperate one? No bakeries are open but I’m sure we can find a late night grocery.”

“Joey’s house. He always has plenty of junk food. No vegan nonsense in his house, turn left up here.”

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t give the vegan cake more of a try,” I told him as we pulled up at Joey’s. “You’re practically vegetarian yourself.”

“There is a big difference between not eating meat and not eating chocolate, for God’s sake,” he told me, still disgusted. I didn’t argue with him, I just followed him up to the front door. He rang the bell. Joey answered.

“Hey guys, what’s up with....”

“I need a snack, Joey. Whatcha got?” Obviously brothers didn’t require the same soft approach that sisters rated, I thought, amused that Joey simply opened the door wider and pointed to his den.

“Come on in, I was just snacking myself.”

“Told you so,” Danny said smugly, leaving me behind with my old roommate to head there at a more leisurely pace.

“So, how are....” Before Joey could get his question out, Danny came out holding a bowl filled with some kind of green bean.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked, outraged.

“Edamame,” Joey told him, grabbing a pod from the bowl and cracking it open so he could pop some of the pea looking things from inside it into his mouth. “Taste great and good for you too. You wouldn’t believe how much protein is packed into these little suckers.”

“Joey, hilarious joke. Now tell me you have some chocolate cake here somewhere. No way will I believe this is all you have to snack on,” Danny said, his voice low and steady. I took the bowl from him so he wouldn’t have anything to throw – that particular tone of voice usually presaged a blow-up.

“Of course I have cake – this great one, Sally made it today.”

Danny was almost to the kitchen when Joey added, “She got the recipe from Mary Beth.”

I admired the speed with which he turned around. But his expression was pathetic. It takes a lot to get Danny to cry but I swore he was close to tears as he asked, “Carob?”

“Yep!” Joey said cheerfully.

We were outside again in under two minutes. Danny leaned his head on the hood of the car. Actually, it was more like banging his head on the hood of the car, I decided. I took pity on him.

“Come on, get in. I know where we can get you what you need.”

“I have no interest in the back room of Babylon,” he snarked.

“You will be sorry for that crack,” I told him. He sat slumped in the seat, all the fight gone out of him.

“All I wanted was some plain, high sugar, high fat chocolate cake to soothe away my bad day,” he said pathetically. “Is that too much to ask?”

“Not at all. Be patient,” I told him.

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace that has never failed me when I have those late night munchies.

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up in front of the Liberty Diner, and Danny groaned.

“I have no interest in eating a fucking lemon bar,” he told me.

“And I have no intention of letting you have one,” I retorted.

He followed me into the Diner. Inside we found Debbie, working one of her rare late shifts.

“Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” she said, arms akimbo. “And to what do I owe this great honor? Danny O’Keefe visiting my humble diner? I think I need to sit down.”
 

Danny didn't answer her in kind, forgoing their usual banter to slump into a booth and put his head down.

“What’s with him?” she asked me, dropping her arms down and walking over to us.

“He’s depressed,” I told her. “He’s missing his mother,” I added.

“Aw, poor kid, I know just how he feels. I have just the thing to cheer him up.”

“Debbie, I love you and I appreciate your concern,” Danny started to say, “but I really don’t want....”

“Chocolate cake, made from Rose’s own recipe,” Debbie announced, pulling a cake from the back of the display case and putting the entire thing in front of him.

Danny looked at it, wide-eyed. Then he looked at Debbie.

“This is real chocolate cake? Not made with carob or soy beans or....”

“One hundred percent chocolate cake,” she assured him, handing him a fork.
 

“Debbie...I love you,” he said, his mouth full of cake. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d have found it a pretty disgusting sight.

“Eat with your mouth closed,” she told him fondly. “And what can I get for you?” She looked at me expectantly.

“I kind of have a craving for some lemon bars,” I told her.

“Sorry, I sold the last one a half hour ago.”

I slumped back against the booth. “No lemon bars?”

“Not a one,” she repeated cheerfully. “But I have some great carob cake – just the thing for your highness. I know how weight conscious you are.”

I banged my head on the table. I wondered if Mikey would have any lemon bars at his place.

“Get your cake to go,” I told my chocoholic lover. “I need lemon bars.”

On second thought, I decided, as Danny gave me a big chocolate smile. Maybe there was something to be said for a good old-fashioned chocolate cake. I leaned forward and licked his lips.

Definitely something to be said for it.

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