Baking With Boys |✔

54. Souskluitjies

Struck with the severity of the situation, I snapped my head to the timer. Thirty-five minutes left. It wasn't enough, I hyperventilated. It wasn't enough at all. Brandon was jogging back up to the counter, like an angel in this time of distress.

"What happened?" I hissed when he was in hearing range.

Brandon patted my back, shielding me from the audience's view, and whispered in my ear, "They pointed a gun at the doctor."

"What?" I shouted, baffled, "On an innocent person?"

Brandon blinked furiously, darting his eyes around. I understood his signal and kept our profile low. "He wasn't a doctor though. Kiki's man."

Relief washed over me. "Oh." He wasn't someone who would be scarred easily then. Though I couldn't say about Bella and Bea, settled in the audience, oozing nervousness and distractedness.

"You better close that mouth and concentrate on the cake." Brandon went over to the sink, and washed his hands. "Time's running out."

I took his words to my heart. Thirty minutes and a whole cake to pull off. Some would call us mad for even attempting to do the impossible. But we were made of coarser material. Even if the cake ended up looking like a lopsided cartoon, there was no 'giving up' in our dictionary. So, through the heat of the afternoon, Brandon and I worked on creating the so-called impossible masterpiece.

Layers of layers ganache piled up. I wetted the knife in the hot water, and then slathered it on to the cake, smoothening out the cervices and any uneven texture. Brandon had artfully applied the tier supporters, and laid the cakes on top of each other. The top one looked a little crooked but there wasn't anything we could do about it now. Filling the piping tool with hot pink frosting, I worked through the cake to make zebra print stripes. It was easy compared to the work Brandon was doing. Spray painting the bow he had crafted out of the fondant, he sprinkled silver edible dust on top of it. I nodded in appreciation, satisfied with the result. Using gum paste, we stuck the bow on the top, carefully attaching its overflowing ends till the bottom.

"Two minutes left!" Patrick shouted to inform all of us.

Blood drained from my face as I saw the wicked timer closing on to the twelve hand. No, not yet! "Brandon, get the pearls."

He didn't reply and skidded to the refrigerator and took out the small perfectly rounded chocolate balls. As delicious as they looked, they were of no use to us without the silver glitter. I hurried and pick up the machine, putting a good amount of silver dust inside.

"Not like this." Brandon took the machine from me. Instead of spray painting each pearl like I was going to do, he spread them over on the bottom of the plate, randomly coating the top of it.

I nodded. It might get the tray a little messy, but it was the most efficient method if we wanted to even add the pearls as an ornament on the cake. "Did we miss something?" I checked over, turning the cake on its stand to look for missing spots, or any messed up part. It was a relief when everything appeared to be seamless. But it wasn't quite there yet, I thought wordlessly.

"Thirty seconds!"

I grumbled. Why were they so enthusiastic about reminding us about the time and creating unwanted tension?

"Here." Brandon handed me the plate with the pearls.

They sparkled with a silver hue as I laid them down on the cake, careful to not overcrowd any particular section. Brandon whispered for me to hurry up, and I did, as fast as I could. I couldn't throw in the pearls and call it a day. The missing piece that this cake had needed, the object that tied the whole cake together, I realised—this was it.