Sweetish

Chapter 2

North Lucero's cobblestone streets whispered with the footsteps of shoppers and tourists. A green bicycle passes by and almost hits a crowd of high class artist, clad in big fat hats and sunglasses to "conceal" their identities.

Among them was Sammy, the enigmatic artist whose journey led her to the unassuming candy store, Estrella Candies owned by Dulcinea Pescado. Pescado? Who would want that name?

She wore a tuxedo made of black shimmering silk and white pleather, she thought it looked nice but her mother liked it so now it's boring, according to her. She had medium/long slicked-back hair "Because it's easier to do," with a mole under her right eye. Her sunglasses were simple, square and black, and her big fur boa with tinsel sparkled in the afternoon sun.

She gazed at the quaint little storefront, nearly empty except for one, the scent of confectionery delights filling the air. Who was this... Angel? Everything about him was wrong; he was shortish and round, his hair was covered in loose sprinkles, he was covered in scars old burn scars, all the way down to his calloused hands, his candy stripe apron and boring grey shirt along with those ugly distressed brown pants, the birthday cake pens in his pockets and the weird little party hat, WHY? EVERYTHING was wrong and tacky and real and RAW and perfect. He looked like common candy king over a candy castle, sitting on his candy throne.

And his scepter? This mad man was making large hazelnut-flavored marshmallow stars filled with marzipan, lightly coated in citric acid dust mixed with powdered sugar, and dunked in molten candy chocolate, followed by a quick dip in a pot of ice water and a coating of hazelnuts and soft rainbow sprinkles. Insanity. Her heart skipped a beat. She MUST have this muse.

Sammy pushed open the door and stepped inside, her presence as striking and exaggerated as ever. She sauntered towards Dulce, whose hands were busy crafting "Estrella Dulce." The candy-maker glanced up, his expression a mix of curiosity and surprise.

Sammy's words flowed like a river of dreams while she gestured with an old photograph she picked up on the edge of his counter, "...I want to make you a star."

Dulce, momentarily baffled, blinked and stammered, "What? I'm sorry you might be confused. I make candy stars, I'm not a star."

Sammy's eyes sparkled with an hungry glint. "Let me show you what I see in you."

She raised her camera, capturing the magic of Dulce's candy-making in action. Gold dust flowed from his fingertips and hot molten candy bubbles may as well have been gentle soap bubbles floating on a feather. His weight hid Heraclean strength, only visual when he carried boxes stacked high with sugar and when he carefully massaged the taffies. Big, soft, strong scarred arms.

*click*

Her lens became a bridge between the mundane and the extraordinary, revealing the artistry and passion in each stroke and confectionary creation. Her nose was full of sugar. Her mouth was full of chocolate.

An hour had passed when Dulce finally saw the results, entranced by the transformation of his work into fine art. "Who are you?" he inquired, his voice touched with wonder.

Sammy lowered the camera, her eyes locked onto his. "I'm Sammy," she introduced herself with a smile. She pointed to the billboard outside the store, a captivating design for a fragrance company. "That's what I do, and I see the same potential in you."

Throughout their conversation, Sammy nibbled continuously on the sweet succulent candy, as if she hadn't eaten them in years, she hadn't, unknowingly binging and  indulging herself in the aromatic and sweet delights.

When Dulce expressed concern about the price of her indulging, Sammy reached into her bag, producing an envelope filled with Sellshells: all paperback, fresh from the bank. He never seen new ones before: without the smell of sweat and food, no stains, no notes or tears. It still smelled of salt.

It resembled something otherworldly to him, he must have been dreaming. She placed it on the counter, and it was more than enough to cover the store's rent for three months, with extra to spare.

"Wait, this is more than-"
She quickly shook his hand and had already left the shop.

Dulce was left both bewildered and fascinated, holding a mostly blank card in his hand, except for Sammy's name and number. Samuela Giovanni.

It was an introduction to a world he had never imagined, one where candy-making could become an art form, and where he might find the acceptance and companionship he had always yearned for.

Maybe they can see in him what his father did. Maybe he doesn't have to be alone anymore.

"That girl is strange. I think I like her." He whispered to himself, alone in the shop again.

Their paths had converged in a way that was nothing short of magical, leaving both of them with questions and possibilities as sweet and tantalizing as the candies themselves.