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Allison feels her phone buzz in her hip pocket just after noon, right smack in the middle of the lunch rush. For the next hour, until she's finally able to take a breath and duck into the back of the shop, her phone feels like it's burning a hole in her jeans, searing down through the thick fabric and into the skin on the outside of her thigh.
(It doesn't matter that she already knows who called; there’s only one person who calls her while she’s at work, or at three o’clock in the morning, or while she’s out with Lydia. But knowing doesn't lessen the anticipation swirling in her stomach; it only makes it stronger, makes it harder for her to resist the urge to leave Hayden with the customers and zip out the back door.)
Before she returns the call, she pulls off her hairnet and pokes her head back through the curtain separating the customer area of the shop from the back. There’s only one person sitting at the table in front of the window, slowly tearing a pumpkin spice cupcake to pieces. Hayden is behind the counter, flipping through a magazine and slowly blowing a perfectly round bubble of pink chewing gum. Normally, Allison would chastise her for blowing gum in front of customers, but it's only one disinterested looking guy and frankly, she can't hold herself back any longer.
She quickly calls back, fanning herself with the back of her hand as the warm, sticky air of the kitchen settles on her face. She doesn’t expect to get through but amazingly, after only two rings, there’s a click and Violet answers, panting slightly.
“Hey!”
“Are you busy?” Allison asks, smiling as the sound of someone grunting loudly briefly fills the other end of the line.
“Not really. Give me a second.” There’s a rattle and another grunt, which trails off into a high pitched scream that ends in a liquid sounding gurgle. A few silent seconds pass before there’s another rattle as Violet picks the phone back up.
“There, that’s better. How’s the shop going?”
“Business as usual,” Allison replies, pulling out a stool and dusting the flour off it before sitting down. “We ran out of cream cheese around noon, so I had to send Kira out for more. You know how the people will rebel if we don’t have red velvet cupcakes.”
“There’d be rioting,” Violet says dryly. “Beacon Hills would tear itself apart.”
“And we can’t have that,” Allison says. “Not yet, at least.” Violet laughs, the sound sharp as any of her knives. It makes a pleasurable chill go up Allison's spine and she shivers, squeezing her thighs together.
“Don’t suppose you’d be able to slip away from work for a few minutes?” Violet asks, her voice dropping into something low and smooth that makes Allison bite her lip. “It’s been weeks.”
“I wish,” Allison sighs, just as the employee door creaks open. It’s Kira, holding a huge case of cream cheese, and she waves at Allison over the box as she makes her way to the walk-in freezer. Allison waits until Kira has disappeared out of sight before continuing. “I’ll be home around seven though, if you’re not busy.”
“So that’s ten here,” Violet mutters. “Maybe. I’m going to try and find that Matt guy tonight. I got some pretty good intel about where he might be hiding.”
“Good,” Allison says darkly, a wave of anger flaring up thick and hot in her chest, seeping into her throat. “I wish I could be there.”
“I could always put him in the trunk,” Violet says. “I can be back there by Wednesday night, If I only make a few stops.”
“It’s fine,” Allison sighs reluctantly. The offer is beyond tempting, but she’d always promised herself that she’d keep her extra-curricular activities away from Beacon Hills, away from the cupcake shop that gives her the money to pursue such interests. “You should definitely take some pictures though.”
“I can do that.” Kira emerges from the walk-in freezer and smiles at Allison as she goes out into the main area of the store. Allison takes that as her sign to end the call; she’s always extra careful around her employees, to keep even the hint of her and Violet’s activities away from them and while neither Kira or Hayden are active eavesdroppers, she knows that all it would take is one errant comment for everything to crumble into dust.
“I have to go,” Allison says. “I need to replenish the red velvet supply before the dinner rush.”
“Okay. I’ll stop in Chicago and get some of those chocolate sprinkles you really like on the way back.”
“You’re the best. I won’t run our business into the ground while you’re gone.”
“I know,” Violet replies softly. It’s the gentlest she ever is and Allison savors the moment, just as much as she plans on savoring the blood-streaked photos that Violet is going to bring back with her.
(And the sprinkles. She's definitely going to savor the sprinkles.)