Cupcakes

Chapter 3: Head East, Young Men

Chapter 3: Head East, Young Men

What drew us East? Rather, who drew us East? That is the question to ask how Richter and I went from living in California and ended up in Pennsylvania. I blame Anthony Jarr. How couldn't I?

That delicious jock was a friend from my childhood: grade school through high school. When I decided to apply at UCLA to obtain a degree in business, and eventually moved to the sunny state of California, Jarr became lost and had a semi-nervous breakdown. Our friendship didn’t fall apart, though. Instead, it only grew stronger. The thirty-one year old with red-hair and fern-green eyes, was a hottie with his model-like body and survived his breakdown. He worked for his real estate license, and turned into one of the leading realtors in northwestern Pennsylvania. Such a career prompted him to call me two years ago while Richter and I were living and working in California.

Jarr woke me from a nap and said, “There’s a property you have to look at here in Snowden.”

“Snowden by the lake? Snowden in Pennsylvania?” I was groggy and thought I was dreaming.

“Yes, that Snowden. The same small town where we lost our virginity at sixteen.”

He lost his to an older gentleman by the name of Clide Costing, although I called him Clide Accosting because he practically raped Jarr. I lost my boyhood innocence to a high school swimmer named Robert Meldershon. Both stories were different and happened in opposite seasons, but each transpired in Snowden inside the dirty bathroom stalls at the Snowden Movie Complex.

Anyway, those s****l tales are only for the strong. Let me get back to Jarr and why he called me in California.

“Why should I look at a property in Snowden?”

“Because Richter and you want to open a bakery, right?”

He knew that we did, since I talked about it with him all the time via f*******:, e-mail, and text. Richter wanted something with a classical look and I wanted a cheap place that we could afford. “Tell me more and cut to the cake.”

“You mean chase. Cut to the chase.”

“No,” I said, “cake.”

He ignored me, which I didn’t blame him for. “The Hostetter Building is for sale in Snowden. Do you remember it?”

Yes, I did. The swimmer who had taken my virginity had lived above the Hostetter Pharmacy, inside one of its two apartments. No longer was the pharmacy there, or the two apartments. The place had sat empty for the last five or so years since Mr. Edwin Hostetter passed away from emphysema. Hostetter had willed the property to his thirty-something year old son who lived in Stockton County, Oklahoma, but the cowboy didn’t want anything to do with it. Instead, Mr. Oklahoma decided to put a For Sale sign on the building and its rear parking lot, which Jarr insisted that Richter and I take advantage of, claiming, “Another opportunity in Snowden will not come up for years. This is yours for the taking. Don’t think otherwise.”

What our conversation entailed was life-changing. The price of the building was just right and Richter and I had decided that the once-pharmacy on the first floor would work perfectly for Cupcakes. We could live on the second floor apartment and rent out the third floor apartment. Other aspects of a move from West Hollywood to Snowden included: Snowden needed a bakery, Richter’s days in the porn industry were limited, and he and I could be with my brother, his family, and my best friend Jarr again. The plan and move was cost effective, but it was a risk. Richter and I just weren’t moving to a different state to live, we were changing jobs, lifestyles, and blowing up our worlds with new drama.

I would have done it all the same way because everyone involved won: Jarr with the sale of the Hostetter Building, Richter because he could bake for a living and be with his family, and I got to keep Richter, gained my relationship with Jarr back, and was the proud owner of a bakery called Cupcakes.