Chapter 19
Blue Lips
Maggie
Nash, Nixon, and I stood in the local grocery store's bakery section in front of glass cases.
“A cake?” I asked.
“Yep,” they both said.
“Why a cake?” I’m confused with the whole theory of getting a cake for something like blue balls until they explained it to me.
“Because we must mourn what one has lost, and we love cake.” Nixon raised a finger, emphasizing his point.
They searched through the case until they found one with blue icing.
“Perfect.” Nash pulled out a cake without writing. A genius can figure out why he picked this cake.
He took the cake to the baker, whispering to him. The baker shrugged, taking the cake to the back.
“What did you say to him?” I asked him.
“You’ll see.” He shot Nixon a knowing expression.
Once Nash paid for the cake, w
