And it wasn't just his sister. It was all four of them. Val. Jodi. Renee. And Alyssa.
At least he remembered everyone's names now.
He looked over his shoulder at the swinging doors leading into the kitchen, thought about going in, then promptly decided against it. Dealing with his sister was turning out to be an exercise in frustration, and he sure as hell didn't need more of it.
And why in the hell was there a fucking piano in a sports bar, anyway?
He stomped after Val, finally catching up to her when she walked behind the horseshoe-shaped bar. At least now she couldn't get away from him, since the bar was closed at one end. Unless she jumped over it, which wouldn't surprise him.
"Val, stop. Please. Just one minute, that's all."
She finally turned to face him, her expression harried, her eyes a little wild. Sympathy went through him when he realized his kid sister was frazzled, and part of him wanted to reach out and give her a hug of reassurance. On second thought, maybe not.
"What Randy? What is so important that you need me drop everything and talk to you?"
"I need to know what you're doing here."
"Doing? What's it look like we're doing? We're trying to get a business up and running. We open in a week. One week. And look!" She opened her arms wide and spun around, her black hair flying around her like some sorceress conjuring spirits. "We're never going to be ready! The menus haven't come back from the printers, we're still short a few waiters, the costumes aren't quite ready, I'm still waiting on the art work to get here so we can hang everything. And I have no idea where the crystal vases went to!"
"Crystal vases? Art work? Valerie, listen to yourself. It sounds like you're opening an art studio, not a sports bar. Sports bars don't have crystal vases!"
"Well this one does!"
"Valerie, if I had known this was what you had planned, I would have never loaned you the money!"
"Well it's a little late for that now. And you knew—I told you! You just never bothered to listen, like always. You just heard what you wanted to hear and ignored the rest. Kind of like what happened with Alyssa last week."
Randy stepped back, partly to get away from his sister's jabbing finger, but mostly because of her last words. He rubbed his hand against his chest and stared. "What are you talking about? What does she have to do with anything?"
"Alyssa. Her name is Alyssa. You should know what the woman's name is before you go mauling her in the parking lot."
"I know what the hell her name is! And I didn't maul her. Is that what she said?"
"No, that's what I said. I know how you are. She said you were an arrogant buffoon."
"What?" Randy may have roared the question, if the looks that suddenly shifted his way were any indication, but he ignored them. This conversation had gotten so far out of his control, and he had no idea how. "She said I was an arrogant buffoon?"
"Yeah, she did. And I tend to agree, especially since you showed up the next night, scaring her to death while you had some bimbo's makeup smeared all over you. And to think I almost tried to convince her to go out with you."
"You did? What'd she say?"
"Oh my God, you are such a bonehead! Move, I have things I still need to do." Val moved to push by him, then stopped and took a deep breath. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, giving him a big hug.
"Thanks Randy. Without you, none of this would be happening." She leaned up and pressed a kiss against his chin, then pushed away, her steps carrying her around the bar before he could even blink. "Oh, I just remembered. Don't forget that you promised you'd be here for Opening Night."
"But that was before—"
"You promised. You can't break a brother promise. Now go back and say hi to Alyssa, see if you can convince her that you're really not a buffoon."
Randy shoved his hands into the front pockets of his dress slacks and stared after his sister. When had she become so bossy? A small grin lifted his mouth. About the same time she had bedazzled his jersey, twenty years ago.
He glanced over his shoulder, back at the swinging doors leading into the kitchen. A buffoon, huh? After the way he had acted the other week, grabbing her and pulling her into a lip lock like he had, he guessed he couldn't blame her.
Then he remembered Val saying she had tried to talk Alyssa into going out with him. It didn't surprise him that Val never said what Alyssa's answer was. Considering he was supposed to be a buffoon, he figured he could guess what the answer was.
He pushed his way through to the swinging doors, pausing for a split second before going through them.
The kitchen was only marginally less chaotic than the restaurant, with people bustling back and forth. He closed his eyes and breathed in, the mingled scents of warm spices and warm food teasing his nose. A rumble growled in his stomach, and he clamped his hand over it, realizing he hadn't yet eaten.
No matter what he thought about the restaurant, or the theme his sister had chosen, Randy had to admit that at least the food smelled good. And if it tasted anything like it smelled, maybe this whole thing would work out after all.
But he wasn't here for the food. So he opened his eyes and looked around, searching for Alyssa. And there she was, turned so she stood in profile to him. He watched her for a minute, her caramel hair pulled back away from her face, revealing a classic profile. And even from this distance, he could see the fullness of her mouth, spread wide in a smile as she listened to whatever the older man in front of her said. He remembered the heat of her lips pressed against his, and suddenly wanted to feel them again, to see if they were as warm and soft as he remembered.
She must have sensed being watched, because her head turned to the right. The smile faltered on her face as her eyes met his, and disappointment went through him. Maybe if he apologized, maybe if he said something—
She was moving toward him, her stride purposeful as she closed the distance between them. She opened her mouth to say something, but Randy stopped her, speaking first.
"How's your hand?"
"My hand?" She looked down at her palm, then up at him, surprise clear in her eyes. "Oh. It's fine, thanks. Um, Val's out front—"
"I didn't come to see Val, I came to see you."
"Oh." Alyssa looked around, then back at him, her brows lowered in a frown. "Why?"
"Is there some place we can talk?"
"This really isn't a good time, we're pretty busy right now."
"Just a minute, honest."
Alyssa didn't look like she believed him. Either that, or she was afraid to go anywhere with him. Neither thought cheered him up. But she looked over her shoulder, then back at him and shrugged, finally walking to the far wall of the kitchen, near the door that led outside. For a minute, he thought she was actually going to go outside, but she stopped and leaned against the wall, her eyes darting once over his shoulder before her gaze rested on his face.
"I wanted to apologize. For last week."
"Um, okay. Apology accepted. If you'll excuse me—"
"Wait, that's not all. I was wondering if you'd like to go out. To dinner. With me."
Alyssa stared up at him, her mouth slightly parted. He watched as her tongue darted out and licked those full lips, watched as she looked around, her gaze darting left and right, like she was afraid to meet his eyes. Before he realized what he was he doing, his hand reached out and gently closed around her arm, drifted down until his fingers touched hers. She looked down at his hand, then up at him.
"Are you asking me out on a date?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, yes. That is, if you want to—"
"I'm flattered. I think. But things are pretty crazy right now, and they probably will be for quite some time. I really don't have time for anything but work."
"How about after Opening Night? Maybe for a drink after? Would that work?"
"Oh. Uh, yeah, sure. If you want."
Randy smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders at her response. He had
no idea why, just knew that for some reason, he wanted to see her, away from all of this, away from his sister and the insanity surrounding them.
"Good, I'll be looking forward to it." His smile disappeared when the rumble in his stomach erupted between them. Heat spread across his face when Alyssa laughed, the sound clear and pure. He looked around, searching for a hole to jump into, but she grabbed his hand and squeezed.
"Don't worry about it, happens to me all the time. Here, why don't you have a seat, and I'll bring something over." She motioned toward the stool pushed under a small counter, then moved past him before he could object. He had just lowered himself to the stool when she returned with two plates, sitting both of them in front of him, along with some silverware.
He looked down and shook his head, automatically pushing the one plate away. "No. There's no way I can eat something called cock and flower, just not happening."
Alyssa laughed again, and moved the plate back in front of him. "That's not what we called it on the menu, don't worry. Try it, I want to see what you think."
"I can't. Doesn't matter what you're calling it, I'll always think of it as cock and flower."
"Don't be such a big baby." She reached around him and cut the sausage into bite size pieces, then speared one and handed him the fork.
He half-expected her to feed it to him, and was surprised by his body's reaction at the thought. He looked away, hoping she couldn't see the reaction reflected on his face, and took the fork from her. He was almost finished the sausage before he realized she was watching him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.
"Not bad. I like the flavor."
"'Not bad'? That's all you can say?" Disappointment flashed in her eyes, just enough that he could make it out before she blinked and looked away.
"No, it's better than 'not bad'. It's actually pretty good. Better than regular sausage, with a little burst of, I don't know. Something. It's good."
"Good, hm?"
"Yeah, it is. Listen, I'm sorry. I'm not a big foodie, so I don't know all the right words to use. To me, not bad means it's pretty damn good, okay?"
Alyssa watched him, her eyes carefully blank as she studied him. A smile slowly spread across her face, warming him. "Fair enough. I'll take 'not bad' then. As long as it's from you. I'm hoping any critics do better than that."
"Critics? What kind of critics?"
"All kinds. Food critics, social critics, night life critics. Just the general public. Everyone has an opinion, and they're not afraid to share it."
Randy sat back, his brows lowered in thought. No wonder his sister—all of them—were running around like crazy fiends. He hadn't thought about it that way.
Which was a stupid thing to admit, considering how much he had given Val for this venture. There was nothing to do now except wait, and hope it worked out.
"Here, try this." Alyssa pushed the second plate in front of him, and he looked down, noticing it was a plain burger patty, much like the one he had tried the first night he had dropped in.
The night he had kissed Alyssa.
Randy said nothing, just cut off a piece with his fork and tasted it. He looked up at Alyssa, surprised at the intensity in her gaze as she watched him.
"You added the bacon."
"I did. It was a good suggestion, thanks."
"Does that mean you're naming it after me?"
"Yup. Val's calling it the Bonehead Burger."
Randy choked on the last bite, feeling it scratch at his throat as it went down, hard. He fisted his hand and smacked it against his breastbone, telling himself he hadn't heard right. The small smile on Alyssa's face let him know he was wrong. He took a deep breath and tried smiling back, not sure if he succeeded or not.
"Well, I guess that's better than the buffoon burger."
Color drained from her face, quickly replaced by a deep flush high on her cheeks. "I can't believe she told you I said that! Oh God, I'm going to kill her!"
Randy reached out and grabbed her hand when she would have turned and left, holding her in place. He slowly stood, keeping her next to him, not wanting her to leave. "Don't kill her. If anything, you should be mad at me. She's right. Actually, I guess you're right. I acted like a complete ass, and I'm sorry. That's why I'm hoping I can make it up to you next week."
"Oh. Um, okay." Alyssa looked up at him, then down at his hand, held over hers. His thumb traced gentle circles along her knuckles, and he didn't miss the small shiver that raced up her arm before she tugged her hand from his.
She quickly shoved both hands into the pockets of her starched apron, her gaze sliding to her feet.
"I need to go. We're leaving for an away game."
"Oh, sure, no problem."
"Thanks for the food, it was really good."
"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Hopefully everyone else will, too."
Silence stretched around them, uncomfortable in the surrounding bustle that swirled just beyond the two of them. Randy took a step back, thinking he should just leave, then stopped and stepped closer to her. She looked up at him, her eyes widening just the slightest bit as he closed one hand around her arm and gently pulled her closer. Before he could think, before he could tell himself to stop, he leaned down and captured her mouth with his, the kiss shorter than he wanted, but still long enough to send heat racing through his veins.
He pulled away, his breathing raspy just from that brief contact, and stepped back, a grin on his face. Alyssa opened her eyes, looking slightly dazed. "So I'll see you next week?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah. Next week."
"Good." And before he could stop himself, he leaned down and kissed her again, just a little harder, a little quicker, because he had to. Then he turned around and walked out, before he did something really stupid like throw her over his shoulder and take her home.
It wasn't until the end of the second period, when he was sitting in the locker room with an ice pack against his jaw, that he realized he never really did have the conversation with Val he had meant to have.
Chapter Five
Chaos reigned supreme. Controlled chaos, but chaos all the same. Alyssa was torn between jumping up and down in excitement, or running to the bathroom to vomit.
In the end she did neither, simply because she didn't have time. The show had officially started, and she was kept too busy to do anything except work. The first couple of hours had been frantic, leaving her frazzled as everything that could go wrong, did. She had stepped outside and closed her eyes, refusing to listen to the shouts and yells coming from the kitchen. After three deep breaths and a fifteen-second pep talk, she had stormed back into the kitchen and firmly took control. They would succeed, because failure simply wasn't an option.
This was her staff, her kitchen. She had trained every single person, but she wouldn't micromanage. She couldn't, or nothing would get done. She jumped in and offered a hand when one was needed, offered gentle advice or firm, depending on the person and the situation. Above all, she made sure things moved smoothly, that everyone was in the right place at the right time, and that the chaos didn't spiral out of control.
Yes, there had been some bumps, but all minor, and nothing they couldn't handle, not now.
Plates were moving out the doors, the presentations clean, the orders fixed to her stringent specifications. Not one dish had been sent back in the five hours they had been open, not one complaint fielded out front. In fact, several compliments had been relayed, which Alyssa promptly shared with her team.
It was too early to call it a success, but Alyssa's confidence grew with each passing minute that it would be.
She stepped around the gleaming stainless steel counter, her eyes drifting over each person as meals were cooked and plated, as completed orders were slid forward and new ones taken down to be filled. To the untrained eye, the scene would like bedlam had erupted in the kitchen. But each move was carefully choreographed, each person working in tandem to create a smooth production.
Alyssa
wondered how things were going out front, if there had been any more bumps or glitches. One waiter had failed to show up, leaving them short on this, their opening night. But Renee had merely shook her head and quickly jumped in, smoothly taking over the role of waitress. In a perfect world, their entire wait staff would have been buff young men. But this wasn't a perfect world, and all four of them knew that experience outweighed looks and theme any day. If there had been any other glitches, they must have been minor, or Alyssa would have heard about them. Part of her wanted to go out front, to see for herself how things were going, but she didn't have the time.
The door swung open and Alyssa watched Val push through them. She was dressed in casual chic, wearing black linen slacks that accented her long legs, a delicately patterned tunic blouse, and four-inch heels that added to her already significant height. Her long hair was arranged loosely on her head, wisps flying around her face. She looked every bit the successful hostess, cool, calm and confident. Only her dark eyes betrayed her excitement—and her nervousness—as they settled on her. Val made a beeline for her, reaching out with one hand and grabbing Alyssa's wrist.
"We need you out front."
"What? Why?"
"The reporter wants to ask you a few questions, then get a picture of us."
Alyssa tugged on her wrist, pulling it from Val's grip as she slid to a stop. "Me? Why me?"
"Because you're the chef, and we're a team. That's why."
"But you said you wouldn't need me! I don't want anything to do with the front of the house, you know that."
"Yes, I know, but I need you now. Come on, it won't take long."
Alyssa thought about refusing. After all, she didn't think Val would actually drag her out front. But something in her friend's eyes made her forget about refusing, so she walked over to Leo, her sous chef, told him she would be right out front if he needed anything, then followed Val through the doors.
Body Check Page 5
