Y'von opened the email and read the order request for the third time. Ten years later? She howled with laughter. Her high school sweetheart's side chick wanted her to make his favorite cupcakes for their fifteen year anniversary. The average chick may have been hurt, she planned to invest the money from the best girlfriend she never had in her new Jeffrey Campbell shoe collection.
Y'van wanted her to tell the woman to go straight to hell. Offered to have her cable cut off, car towed, and the gas bill made ten thousand dollars too high with a "computer error." Seventeen years is too long to nurse a wound over a boy who still chased eighteen years old's with small waists, wide hips, and bubble butts.
Not once had she cried over her ex-boyfriend. His kisses were sloppy. Breath smelled like stale cough syrup mixed with ten-year-old toe fungus. The worst basketball player on the team. Take a thousand dollars from the woman who saved her half a million in embarrassment. Check, please!
"Von?" Y'van's voice cut the silence in the air.
Y'von closed the tab. "Yes."
"Just a little revenge never hurt anybody. Use salt instead of sugar." Y'van sneered.
A chuckle escaped. "Please, then they'll be calling me the Vanilla Bean Vixen who tried holding a twenty-year torch for someone else's man."