I'm so pleased to be telling you about this gorgeous new book - out today!!
Edited by Lucie Simone
Cake Therapy by Cindy Arora
The first time I met Tammy Kovac, she was eating a slice of cake at her cluttered desk while angrily telling someone on the phone to “kiss her well-toned ass” right before she slammed the phone down so hard I was sure it would burst in her hands.
I clutched the paperwork Human Resources had given me and took a few steps back as I reconsidered introducing myself. Suddenly the idea of working with ‘Tammy the Terror’ didn’t seem as exciting as it did, well…terrifying.
“What kind of cake do you like?” She swiveled her desk chair to face me, and I stumbled back, surprised she knew I was hovering nervously behind her. She stared impatiently at me, and I found myself speechless as I took in my first impression of the Pulitzer Prize winning reporter. She was disarmingly pretty, in that natural way that girls appreciate and admire. Her sandy blonde hair was neatly pulled into a high ponytail, her brown eyes looked at me curiously, and her lips were glossed in a peaches-n-cream sheen giving her a girl-next-door look. But you could feel the trouble. She had that glint about her that revealed she could somehow convince you to do things you never thought you would or could.
It was an instant girl crush for me. But the feeling was not mutual.
“I don’t like cake,” I answered truthfully. “I’ve just never really been a big fan of sweets, and honestly, it’s a waste of calories if you think about it.”
“A. Waste. Of. Calories? Who says absurd things like that?” Tammy looked at me with a mixture of outraged interest and disappointment. She leaned over and picked up my freshly printed press badge I had proudly put on just a few moments earlier.
Olivia Cisneros, Staff Reporter, SF Bridge News
“My mom used to always say cake is the great uniter. It can bring people together in ways that national leaders haven’t even figured out yet.”
I blinked at her, still unsure of where all this cake talk was going to lead to.
“You do realize it’s the only food that can make an entire room of virtual strangers burst into song?”
“You mean, ‘Happy Birthday?’” I said confused, realizing that she was right, but also never having really seen it as a social commentary. But she did have a point.
She gave me an exasperated look right before she picked up the police scanner sitting on her desk that buzzed with inaudible chatter. She turned the volume up and leaned in to make out what the dispatchers were saying on the other end.
“Do we need to head out?” I asked her and handed her my paperwork listing her as my mentor for the first three months at SF Bridge News. She quickly read through the paperwork and handed it back to me.
“No, it’s a standard robbery call. You’ll get the details from the Watch Commander later.”
She tossed the scanner onto the desk, and I stared at it longingly.
“Listen, O-Livia, cake isn’t just something you have on your birthday. And it’s definitely not something you claim not to like because of calories. Where’s your lust for life? Cake has history, it’s a tradition, and it tastes utterly fantastic when everything else is falling apart. And around here, in this never-ending hamster wheel that is journalism, the world falls apart every five minutes, so you better get used to it.”