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“I can’t believe we’re even still talking about this, you blonde bimbo! Pass me the red.”
“YOU can’t believe it?” Logan asked, scooping up the small pile of red puzzle pieces and handing them over. “I mean, I knew you were bad news, but I can’t believe I’ve been living next to such a godless heathen for so long.”
Louise groaned as she sifted through the pieces and started on the next area.
“If you don’t shut your-”
“OH what were you gonna say?? Was it pie-hole? Because pie is ingrained in our lexicon and the better dessert?”
“Look me in the eye, Bush.” Louise glared and pointed at herself with two fingers. “Look me in the eye and tell me you have never referred to ass as cake.”
—
The elevator's ding announcing her arrival, an elderly woman emerged from the glinting metal doors. She glided into the lobby wearing her Sunday best, a monochromatic sunflower yellow dress with a matching blazer and big hat. Against the industrial furniture and decor, she stood out as the epitome of exuberant style. Not that either of the two knuckleheads doing a puzzle on the coffee table took notice.
“Now what do we have here?” Mrs. Winnifred asked when she reached the front desk, pointing to the lounge area where the two continued their uninterrupted quarrel.
Nadia, the desk attendant, popped a handful of sour candy in her mouth but continued to talk through the gummies.
“Mmm, Logan and Louise debate heating up. I bet this one goes as long as the ‘water is wet’ fight.”
“Let’s hope not. I have family visiting next week.” Winnie set her purse down on the desk and sniffed. “And I’ve accepted that you won’t take all that metal out of your face, but please don’t chew with your mouth open, baby. It’s impolite.”
“But Moooom~” Nadia joked then shut her mouth in apology. She couldn’t resist a subtle wiggle of her septum piercing though.
Winnie gave her one good, stern nod then looked over to the lounge again.
“And the puzzle?”
“That’s all Ms. McFee. She said if they finish it in under two hours she’ll give them fifty bucks off their rent next month.”
“Well,” the older woman huffed, “you should tell Annie that hardly seems fair to the rest of us residents.”
“It’s rigged.”
“Ah.”
Nadia tilted the bag of sour candy into her mouth but found it empty save for the excess malic acid dust. Face puckering, she clicked her tongue and spoke through the cringe. “You... better take an umbrella if you’re headed out. The cards said it would rain.”
“The cards or the weather channel? I’ve got no patience for your devil magic today.”
“Tarot isn’t devil magic. It helped me prepare for this storm after all,” Nadia said, recovering from her sour hangover and gesturing to Logan and Louise.
“Oh? And how’s that?”
“I brought snacks!”
And she ripped open another bag of gummies she had hidden under the desk.
—
“Factoring out the icing, you-”
“You can’t just FACTOR OUT the icing?!” Louise stared at him in dismay. “That’s an essential part of cake! It’s like taking the filling out of a pie.”
They had already gone back and forth on the merits of cake and pie for the better part of an hour, yelling about tastes, flavors, and textures all without relenting work on the damn puzzle.
For what felt like the millionth time, she considered dropping the conversation altogether but knew her stubborn pride would never let her, especially not in a competition against Logan of all people.
Something about him…
Maybe it was his dumb face, with his smug eyebrows and stupid cocky mouth that never shut up.
He irked her.
Irked her in ways she couldn’t describe.
“Wrong,” he said, swiping a puzzle piece she had been staring at to click into place in his section. “You scrape off the icing, it’s still a cake, but if you take the filling out of a pie it’s no longer a pie. So, cake needs to be good enough to stand on its own, and guess what? It’s not.”
“That’s an overgeneralization and not fair.” She retaliated by taking the partially finished section from him and moving it within the edges on her side, having spotted its corresponding piece. “Cakes come in a HUGE variety. All of the components can be swapped out for something even better, versus a pie where you just get a dry crust and bitter goo.”
“Bitter g- just because you have the sweet tooth of a six-year-old doesn’t mean all pie is bitter!”
“Don’t talk about my sweet tooth like you’re on a first-name basis. And it doesn’t change the fact that pie is more limited to creation than cake.”
“Umm chocolate, cream, fruit, savory,” he countered. “But interesting point about boundless creativity and cake aesthetics. Reminds me of… fondant.”
Louise stilled. Fondant. How could she forget about the absolute dogshit that is fondant?!
“That... its main purpose is for decoration and- and cakes are decorated in ways that get whole TV shows dedicated to them! Try this one in that corner,” she said passing him a puzzle piece. It fit.
“Are you seriously dissing a good lattice for fondant?” Logan waved his hand around in desperation. “Fondant?!”
“Maybe I am. How many TV shows can you name about pie?” Louise waited barely half a second before continuing. “Exactly. Whereas I’ve got Cake Boss, Cake Wars... Cake.”
He paused, whether to put another piece into place or to stall she couldn’t tell. Logan stared at her, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly even as he refrained from their discussion.
His eyes widened suddenly, and he snapped his fingers.
“Pie is dominating the music industry. She’s my cherry pie, bye-bye Miss American pie, classics,” he listed.
“Yeah okay but there’s...” Louise trailed off then stood suddenly. Her knee hit the coffee table and startled them both into a catching position. When none of the puzzle pieces fell, she straightened.
Muttering “I have to go to the bathroom,” she walked away to the first floor restrooms.
She emerged not a minute later.
“Birthday Cake by Rihanna!”
“You had to google that,” Logan called over his shoulder, scooting to the side to make room for her to sit back on the floor next to him.
Plopping down, she scoffed.
“Wrong, I called Gene. So are you really gonna look at me and tell me that Warrant comes ANYWHERE close to Rihanna?”
“Okay okay, there are some big names attached to cake. But that’s the only point I’m giving you. And it’s a weak point.”
He tapped another section in and pointed to a pile he had started for her. She preferred searching for pieces in grouped colors.
“You’re just mad because you don’t have any cake,” Louise said, bumping his butt with her elbow.
—
“Is cake starting to sound like a made-up word to you?” Nadia asked. “Ooo, there goes Logan’s twitchy eye.”
Winnie tsk’d then held out her hand for another sour gummy.
“Why did Annie put them up to this anyway,” the older woman asked as Nadia tapped the bag until a few candies fell into the waiting hand.
“She’s touring their floor with the inspector today. They always manage to scare off visitors with their, as Annie calls them, ‘passionate disagreements.’”
“I’m not surprised. Makes you wonder why we’re standing here.”
Neither moved, however, somehow still entranced by the back and forth.
“Hey, do you-”
“Hay is for horses.”
“Right, sorry ma’am,” Nadia corrected. “Do you think they actually believe half the stuff they’re saying?”
“No. I think they both like the sound of their own voice. And, between you and I,” Winnie leaned in, “I think they like the way they sound together.”
They snickered together conspiratorially.
—
“You only like cake because it’s cheap.”
“You’re cheap.”
“No, you are.”
“You- stop it. Cakes are THE dessert for special occasions.”
“Only because it’s artificial and more readily available than pie!”
“Just because something’s cheap and available doesn’t mean it’s bad, you spoiled-!” She took a deep breath. “Tell me, how stupid does this sound: Congrats on turning four, Timmy, now blow out the candles on your birthday pie.”
“Mhmm, yeah, happy Thanksgiving, who’s bringing the pumpkin cake? It's just as stupid sounding.”
“Ooo having to fall back on the traditions of a problematic holiday? Not looking good for your case there, Bush.”
Louise smirked as Logan’s shoulders hunched defensively. That one bugged him. A couple more of those and she would get to see his defeated face.
Hopefully, it would be prettier to look at than this English cottage they were almost done putting together.
“You- it- your dad loves Thanksgiving.”
“How are you going to bring up MY dad for YOUR point?!”
“Easily.”
“Yeah well your mother- hey wait a minute,” Louise stopped to look under the coffee table, then under her own butt. She stood and kicked at Logan, who joined her in standing. After another survey of their area and a shake of the puzzle box, she pointed down at the board. “She shorted us a piece.”
Sure enough, with only two pieces but three empty slots left, Louise and Logan were unable to complete the puzzle.
“That conniving bitch,” Logan said, both amazed and insulted. “We could run to the Past Gas? Annie couldn’t have gone that far to get this, so maybe there’s another copy there.”
“I doubt that shitty convenience store carries puzzles. Plus, it’d take us just as long to find the one piece we need.”
“Think we could shake her down for it?”
“Probably, but I bet she wouldn’t give us the money.”
Humming his agreement, Logan stared down at the box and then inhaled sharply. “I got it. Gimme your shoe knife.”
Without question, Louise reached to the holster near her right foot—not unlike the one she first spotted on Critter back when they were kids. She unhooked the dagger and held it for Logan to take. He did, picked up the puzzle box, and sat on one of the couches.
After catching his drift, Louise nodded with a whispered “nice.”
“It would be if my hand wasn’t so unstable.”
“Here.” Louise sat next to him and put his elbow on her thigh.
With the extra leverage, he could poke holes with more confidence.
She ignored how, with each movement, his arm slid further down her thigh. Swallowing, she resumed her argument.
“Cheesecake.”
“What?”
“Cheesecake,” she repeated. “One of the most luxurious and popular forms of desserts is cheesecake. Pie can’t compare.”
“Cheesecake IS basically a pie,” he snorted.
“It’s in the fucking name, Logan.”
“In that black hole you call your heart, deep down, you know it’s more like a pie.”
After he finished poking the cardboard out of the box, Logan held the small squarish shape up for her inspection. She took the knife and makeshift piece from him to smooth out the nodes.
He didn’t move his elbow as he ticked off his fingers. “Open-faced, cream filling, crust base? Pie. Face it, pie is amazing. A homemade crust, fresh fruit, sitting on the windowsill to cool is literally the quintessential image of domestic bliss.”
“Oooo, university boy used the word quintessential, isn’t he sooo smart,” Louise mocked. “I went to college too, and I know that a quintessential pie has to be homemade, and it’s a pain in the ass to do that. Do you know how easy and amazing a mug cake is?”
“Of course I do, I love trashy foods. But that’s what it is: a low-quality quick fix. The chances of getting a mediocre cake are so much higher than a bad pie, and a mediocre cake tastes like a three-month-old kitchen sponge.”
Louise scoffed then placed the last piece down on the puzzle. It was rough, but it would work.
As per the agreement, they both leaned in for a selfie with the timer that Annie had set for them. Logan stuck his tongue out while they both flipped their middle fingers to the camera.
Picture out of the way, she resumed the argument.
“Dry pie will cut up your mouth, actively harming you.” Louise crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air. “And what ‘chances’ are you even talking about? Show me the data, Einstein, because it sounds a lot like personal bias to me.”
“Like this entire conversation isn’t personal bias?!”
“It’s not! Cakes are objectively better because... they’re sexier.”
—
“Are they still going at it?” Victor, another tenant, asked, coming in through the front entrance and shaking his umbrella of excess rain.
Nadia tied off the short, green braid she made out of her own hair and answered him. “Yep. I’m telling you guys. This is going to get as intense as wet water.”
“Well, y’all keep score for me,” Winnie said, pushing off of the counter. “I think I’ve missed enough of the church potluck.”
“Are you sure you don’t just need to rest your weary bones, hm?” Victor teased.
Rolling her eyes, Winnie responded, “You can only get so much joy out of watching an argument where there’s one clear answer.”
“Oh, that’s true. Everyone knows the best is-”
“Pie.” “Cake.”
Winnie and Victor’s heads snapped to stare at each other simultaneously.
Nadia opened another bag of gummies.
—
“Did you just… did you just say cakes are sexier than pies?” Logan recovered quicker than she thought possible. “There’s a scene in American Pie that would heartily disagree with you.”
Louise scoffed. “Are we really going to measure eroticism by what a teenager will stick their dick in?”
“Fair enough. But that doesn’t explain how cake is sexy.”
“Strippers jump out of cakes.”
“Strippers also famously come on stage to the song Cherry Pie.”
“When was the last time you went to an erotic pie shop?! Never, it’s always a cake shop.”
“Just because MOST people are too unimaginative to make pies that look like a pair of tits doesn’t mean EVERYONE is incapable.”
Not enjoying his rapid-fire comebacks, she stood and paced the length of the lounge. Logan sat back on the couch and rested his legs atop their completed puzzle.
There was a lightness to him that she envied, but Louise reasoned with herself that oftentimes they took turns being the carefree one. When an idea hit, she swiveled back around to face him and kicked at one of his legs.
“... food play.” His eyes widened, and she chose to look up at the ceiling as she finished her point. “You can eat cake off your partner’s body, but no one ever does that with pie. It would be too sticky and gross.”
Making a buzzer noise to get her attention back on him, Logan held his hands up to form a T for timeout. “Have you actually done that?”
“Wha-”
“I mean I always kind of thought, if you were kinky, you’d be more into the sadism side of things, but, alright, food play, I can get into that.”
“Shut up! That’s not what this is about!”
“It is now! Hey, everybody! Louise wants to try-”
“And thank YOU, Mrs. Smith from Public Works!” Annie, projected from the elevator hall in a not-so-subtle bid to get them to shut up. “We are SO GLAD that you could join us in our PEACEABLE and WELL-FUNCTIONING apartment complex today,”
Despite the warning, only Louise and Logan quieted down. The other pair in the lobby, Victor and Winnie, continued to bicker.
With an exasperated smile, Annie hurried the inspector out of the front door, then sighed long and hard. She clapped her hands together and resumed a chipper straight-backed pose.
“So! What do we have here?”
With a brief glance at the front desk, Annie chose to focus on Louise and Logan, who both pointed at their completed project.
Annie’s smile didn’t fade—it never did—but her eyebrows scrunched closer together.
“That… how did you...”
“Does it matter? We did.” Louise shrugged.
Digging into her blouse pocket, Annie pulled out the last piece and stared at it. It took her a second to realize its irrelevance.
“We finished in under two hours,” Logan said, showing off their selfie proving their statement. “So pay up, lady.”
Stunned, Annie looked at the completed puzzle and the two awaiting their prizes. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes though they snapped open a moment later. Her smile grew.
“Wow. Genuinely, I am so impressed,” Annie said as she mimed cheerleading. “Especially given the conditions you both were working in, you really beat my expectations.”
“Yeah, your little klepto trick was cute, but-”
Annie cut off Logan with a wave of her hands.
“Oh no, not that. I knew you two were bright enough to overcome something that minuscule. I bet it didn’t even phase you. No, I meant tensions seemed pretty high earlier. Calling each other idiots over, what was it, tarts?”
“Pie,” Louise corrected. “And I see what you’re doing. Nice try, but my hand’s getting cold and the only thing that can warm it up is a nice, green Ulysses S. Grant.”
“Of course. Nadia, can you bring me my purse?”
Nadia saluted then disappeared into the back office, and Annie picked at a loose thread while they waited.
“I understand wanting to let the conversation die, Louise. It’s not easy trying to sell cake as a superior dessert, hm?”
“Are you kidding? I had the upper hand before you interrupted us.”
“Please.” Logan crossed his arms. “You were two moves away from losing sooo bad, small fry.”
“I was not!”
“Was to. Sex appeal was your trump card, and nobody here thinks cake is sexier is pie.”
Mouth agape, Louise turned to the crowd. Spotting the resident lesbian, she singled her out. Lesbians always had the right answer.
“Mrs. Winnie, which is sexier: cake or pie?”
The tenant in question raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow at them both. She opened her mouth, but Logan beat her to the punch.
“Tuhtuhtuh nuh uh, none of that.” He moved in between Winnie and Louise. “It’s not fair, you’re just going to seduce her.”
“She happens to be seeing someone right now, and I would NEVER disrespect that.” She would. “And I’m not her type, numbnuts.”
“Bullshit. You’re everyone’s type.”
“You don’t-” Not sure how to take that, Louise twirled her wrist. “Just like cake is. Devastatingly attractive cake.”
“Enough," Annie said, quiet but still commanding the room to immediate silence. "This is hardly appropriate lobby talk. And besides,” she inspected her nails, “everyone knows the best dessert is a cookie.”
It was silent for only a beat before Louise and Logan exploded in a fit of disbelief bordering on rage.
“A co- wha- she sai- a COOKIE?!?!” Louise spluttered.
“If you’re going to step into the ring, then you need to bring the fucking heat.” Logan shook his head in clear disdain. “A cookie. What is she thinking?”
“I know! Might as well have called a raisin the best version of grapes.” Louise mocked her, voice pitched lower with a drawl. “Uhhh I’m bringing cookies to the potluck. Can you guess what kind? Oh I don’t know, is it some variation of chocolate chip or sugar?”
Annie crossed her legs, her back foot tapping at the tile floor underneath her. “Well, there’s also oatmeal raisin-”
“OATMEAL RAI- okay, you know what, let’s go.” Louise grabbed Logan by the sleeve and pulled him away. “This woman has lost her mind, and there’s no reason to keep this up.”
“Agreed.”
—
“I couldn’t find your purse,” Nadia stated, finally emerging from the office. “Did you put it in one of the locked drawers?”
“Hm? Oh no, I forgot that I didn’t bring it today.” Annie put her hand over her heart as she showed her appreciation. “Thank you for looking anyway.”
With a sniff, Winnie shook off the encounter and pointed a delicate finger to the elevator hallway. “So what do you think they’ll have at their wedding? Pie or cake?”
“Don’t start this again,” Annie warned, looking out in the direction of the two retreating figures, so caught up in their emotions they forgot to collect a prize.
Logan tugged at Louise’s beanie, and she pushed his laughing form off balance. Annie turned back to her audience.
“But definitely cake.”