Chapter 1

Arnie worked at his dad's bakery not because he liked it but because he felt guilty. His Dad had slaved away at that bakery seven days a week for twenty years, just to send Arnie and his brother Joe to the best schools, all the way through college. Arnie had partied too much in college and barely graduated after six years, and he'd changed his major so many times that he graduated with a degree in Psychology, which was basically useless.

He was at loose ends, still living with his parents at 25, working in the bakery just to make some money, when his Dad dropped dead of a heart attack.

Arnie felt guilty, like it was all his fault. Well, he knew it wasn't all his fault -- some of the blame was the new Donut Maven shop across the street. It was part of a huge national chain, and when it opened it took 75 percent of his Dad's business away the first month. Most of the customers, some of whom had been coming in to Arnie's Dad's shop for more than 20 years, fled like they were leaving a sinking ship.

Arnie's Dad was shocked, humiliated, and heartbroken, and it was no wonder he dropped dead. He'd spent years building up the business, and it was gone overnight.

So Arnie felt he had to take more responsibility, run the place himself. He couldn't just sell it after all the work his Dad had put in. He took the operation over with Joe, but Arnie was the guy who ran everything. He made all the donuts, cakes, muffins and pies, and made all the decisions. Joe was happy just to do his work and go home, but not Arnie. He stayed late and came in early, constantly trying to figure out how to get those old customers back.

It wasn't going to be easy to build the business back up. The shop was was right down the street from an art college that specialized in photography, and was filled with skinny girls who wanted to be models. Girls who never ate donuts.

Things were looking grim. Arnie was in the store one hot summer day, the sweat dripping off him from working near the oven, when he suddenly felt a cold blast of air that curled the hairs on the back of his neck.

He looked out front and saw a woman standing at the counter. She was talking to Julie Morris, the cute blonde college girl with the killer body who worked out front, and in a moment Julie turned and wiggled over to the back room, poked her head in, and said, "Arnie, there's a woman here to see you."

Arnie used his apron to wipe the flour off his hands and came out to the counter. The woman was middle-aged, with gray hair swept back in a power hairdo, heavy mascara that accentuated her steel blue eyes, and a mouth like a gash in the bottom of her face. She smiled and it gave Arnie a chill. There was something unnerving about her. She had that lean, hungry look that Arnie had seen once when he took a trip to Mexico and saw half-wild dogs on the beach. The funny thing was that although her face and upper body were bony and thin, her breasts and hips were wide and luscious, straining the fabric of her gray business suit.

"I'm Vera Famishette, the sales representative for Cloven Flour," she said. "We're new in the area. We have a great product here. We make the most delicious flour you've ever tasted. People can't resist it. It'll increase your business."

"I've heard that before," Arnie said. "People come in here all the time trying to sell me new equipment, new ingredients, new ad campaigns. Nothing works," he added. "My Dad was in business for 25 years but it looks like we won't be here next year. He thought he had a loyal customer base, but the minute that place across the street opened they all left us. Those bastards across the street are driving us bankrupt. Look at this place. Empty. You'd do better going across the street." He pointed at the full parking lot. "More customers."

"But you're just the type of customer we want," she purred softly. Her voice was deep and sexy, with a hoarse timbre, like she was whispering. "Someone with a grievance. Someone who wants vengeance. Right? I'm sure you'd like to settle a few scores."

Something in what she said struck a chord. "Sure I would," Arnie said. "I can't believe the way the people around here abandoned us. I'd love to pay them back somehow."

"Yes," she said, smiling. "Well, now you can. You can do it. Just buy an order of our flour and use it in your donuts, muffins -- all your products -- and people will love it."