Taste: Beautiful Series, Book 6

by Anderson, Lilliana

  “OK.”

  Nine

  Brad

  “Shit!” The crashing of glass precedes the cry of a female voice as I finish up in the kitchen on Sunday night. I’ve been experimenting with a dish, which is something I like to do after hours, but I stop what I’m doing, and rush towards the sound.

  “Ruby?” I find her crouched on the ground, trying to collect the largest pieces in a pile of smashed glassware.

  She sniffles and shakes her head. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she asserts. “I’ll clean it up.”

  Crouching down beside her, I can tell she’s crying, but she keeps her face away from view.

  “I said I can do it. I don’t need your help.”

  I reach out and begin to help anyway.

  “Brad! I said I can do it!” she yells, finally looking at me, her eyes streaming tears. She throws the glass in her hands at the ground, smashing it further. I put my hand out instinctively to shield myself from any debris and feel small pieces of glass imbed themselves into my palm.

  Tensing my jaw, I stand and look at the damage, removing the largest pieces and dropping them on top of the mess that’s already on the floor.

  “Oh no. I’m so sorry. You’re hurt. I shouldn’t have done that.” She looks stricken.

  “It’s fine.”

  I turn, holding my hand so I don’t drip blood on the floor, and head to the washbasin. The cool water hits my hand and soothes some of the stinging, and my blood washes away in streaks of light red on white porcelain.

  “Here, I have the first aid kit,” Ruby says from behind me. I turn to face her, taking the towel she’s offering to dry my hands before I move over to the warming bay and flick on the light to inspect my hands. With every movement, I can still feel tiny shards lodged in there.

  “Can I have it?” I ask, holding out my other hand to take the kit.

  “Let me help you. It’s the least I can do. I… I shouldn’t have behaved that way.”

  Glancing up at her, I hold out my cut hand, indicating that she can help. She opens the kit and pulls out a set of tweezers and a small wound cleaning kit. Then she takes a hold of my hand and begins to pull the shards from my palm.

  For a moment, I just watch her, wondering if things would have worked out if I’d taken a chance and dated her after we’d kissed. I’m attracted to her. She’s of a small stature with green eyes, porcelain skin, and elfin features. She colours her hair a bright shiny red that gives her this ethereal quality, and on top of that, we simply get along. It’s easy to be in her company. We probably would have had a good time; maybe we would have made something of it. I don’t know. I just know that where women are concerned, I tend to play things safe. I’ve fallen for the crazy passionate relationship before, and while I was very young when it happened, I still got my heart broken when it didn’t work out. I don’t want to do it again. I don’t want to take risks. I try to date with my head instead of my heart. Not that it’s working out for me…

  “Am I hurting you?” she asks quietly, her hand poised above mine as she pauses and looks up at me.

  I shake my head. “I’m fine. Why were you crying?”

  She drops her gaze back to my hand and shrugs a shoulder. “It’s not important.”

  “In the three years I’ve known you, Ruby, I’ve only seen you cry twice.”

  “The first time was because you were being a jerk to me,” she says, placing the tweezers in the plastic tray before running her fingers gently over my palm, testing to see if the glass is clear.

  “And this time?”

  She places the dish beneath my hand and squeezes saline over the small cuts. “It’s a different jerk this time.”

  “The guy I saw you with outside?”

  She nods, drying off my hand before dabbing the cuts with antiseptic cream. “He’s just… he’s troubled. I suppose that’s the best way to put it.”

  “Is he hurting you?”

  She pulls at her lip with her teeth and wraps a gauze bandage around my hand.

  “He’s your boyfriend, right? He should be treating you like a queen.”

  Breaking off a piece of white tape, she secures the bandage on my hand. “I don’t really know what we are anymore,” she explains as she begins to pack everything back into the red first aid kit before she drops the small dish into the bin.

  “Thanks,” I say, turning my hand from side to side and moving it, testing to see that there’s nothing remaining inside my cuts. They aren't deep and they'll heal quickly.

  She shrugs. “It’s the least I could do.”

  I stand and grab a broom. She carries the bin over to where the glass is all over the floor. For a while we work in silence then she stops after she dumps a pile into the rubbish and looks up at me. “Why do you care anyway? I mean, why now?”

  I frown and continue to sweep. “Because I do,” I say simply.

  “It’s not because you think I’m unavailable and suddenly that interests you? Are you having regrets all of a sudden?”

  Leaning on the broom, I let out a sigh. “I thought we’d moved past all that and stayed friends.”

  She stands and empties the dustpan into the bin and glares at me. “I don’t know, Brad. Have we?”

  I place the broom to the side and step toward her. She steps back, and when she lands against the wall, I stop and place my hand on the wall beside her head as I look into her eyes.

  “Don’t turn this around on me, Ruby.”

  There’s this defiance in her eyes, and I wonder if she’s going to slap me or try to kiss me. Either one isn’t going to happen, because right now, this isn’t about me, it’s about her being angry with some other guy, and I’m the one who’s here that she feels safe enough to lash out at.

  She grips the front of my uniform and moves toward me as if she’s going to kiss me. I stay still, looking her in the eyes questioningly.

  What game is she playing here?

  Just before she makes it to my mouth, I speak. “Whatever it is he’s done, this will only make it worse.”

  She stops and looks up at me. “You’re an arsehole.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she shakes her head.

  “No Ruby, I’m your friend.”

  “Just leave me alone.”

  I stand there and watch her walk away. “Call me if you need to talk.”

  “Fuck you,” she says, and I close my eyes as I hear the outside door open and slam closed.

  Ten

  Dakota

  "Isn’t Bradley Rae..." The sound of his name leaving my mother's lips causes me to freeze in my tracks. I close my eyes, hearing the sound of the paper in her hands as I take a deep breath.

  "Yes?" I ask, as I turn to face her, keeping my features straight. My mother has no idea I was involved with Brad when I was younger. I mean, she knew I had a crush on him. But, my father made it very clear that the kayaking boys were off limits and went to great lengths to enforce that rule. To a teenage girl, that rule was like waving a red flag at a bull. And Brad was my target.

  "Isn’t he that chef whose recipes are in Voyeur Magazine?"

  Yes. He is. I've been collecting them.

  I drop my gaze. "I don't know. Maybe.”

  She stares at his name on the list of attendees for the fundraiser, her brow knitting in a way that tells me I’m not going to like what she’s about to suggest.. "You were friends with him, weren't you?”

  “Not really.” I was obsessed with him.

  “You were, I remember. I wonder if he'd be willing to donate his services for a night.”

  “In what way?”

  “Cook here for a night. We could sell tickets in the silent auction."

  "I'm sure he's too busy for that, mum. He has his own restaurant to run."

  "Can’t hurt to ask. Do you think you can do that for me? I’ve got a million things to do tomorrow, and the reunion is only a week away."

  I open my mouth to protest, but she walks away before I get the words out. Shit.

 
* * *

  Stacey’s mouth drops open. “She wants you to call him? Holy wow, I mean, does she have any idea what happened between you two?” she asks. I’m walking with her to the water’s edge while holding her paddle. Stacey has been my best friend since I was thirteen. She's also been one of our top female competitors in all that time. She was here when Brad was, and knows all about our history and everything in between. And she’s the only one that knows the full story.

  “No, and I want to keep it that way.”

  “Why not tell her? It's been years, and they probably don't even care anymore.” She slides into the cockpit of her kayak and holds onto the pontoon for balance as she tightens the waterproof skirt about her waist.

  I hand her the paddle. “They don't have a hell of a lot of respect for me as it is. Best not to make it worse.” I look over the water as a seagull paddles past and scrunch up my nose.

  “That's ridiculous. Why do you think they don't respect you? Because you and Riley are still living with them?”

  I shrug. “Partially. I don't know. I guess I just feel like a sponge. I'm twenty-three, still living off them, and still working the same job I had when I turned fourteen and nine months.”

  “I think you're being too hard on yourself. Your parents would be lost without you and Riley around. Think about all the work you do with the club. They can't do that on their own. No, I think you're exactly where you're supposed to be, and I'll bet if you tell your mum that you and Brad had something before Riley came on the scene, she's likely to make that phone call in your place.” She pushes away from the pontoon to start her training session.

  “Or, you could do it for me?” I call after her, a hopeful smile on my face.

  * * *

  Brad

  “Stacey? As in Stacey Wright?” I ask after my female caller has identified herself as being from the Sydney Kayaking Club where I’m to attend this reunion on the weekend.

  “You remember me?”

  “How could I forget? I only saw you every day until I was nineteen and gave up the sport. How the hell are you?”

  “I'm good—still training, still competing. Not much has changed. I'm actually calling about this reunion the club is putting on. You’re coming, right?”

  “Ah, yeah, I am.”

  “Great, listen, you know it’s a fundraiser too? So we’re going to be asking you to throw some cash at the club.”

  I smile to myself, liking that she’s still as blunt as she always was. “Yes. I figured as much.”

  “Well, Coach and Mary were kind of hoping that instead of giving money to the club, you'd be willing to donate your services to the club for a night. They've just upgraded the restaurant, and they could raise a lot of money in the silent auction for a culinary evening with the one and only Bradley Rae.”

  I chuckle into the phone, kneeling down to pick up my runners and sliding them onto my feet as I continue the conversation. “Wow, they don't waste any time in asking.”

  “Yeah well, that’s Coach and Mary for you. But, listen, I know it's a lot to ask, and if you can't do it, it's fine. They're just trying to keep their heads above the water, so to speak.”

  “Heads above water? Why? Are they struggling to keep the club open?”

  She hesitates before responding, and I know she’s said a bit more than she should have. “Ah, well, it’s um… it’s not common knowledge but…shit, you can’t repeat this OK?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, Coach put everything they own up for collateral to get a loan to refurbish. The reopening has been good, but not as great as they’d hoped. Mary’s in a bit of a panic because she worries that once the novelty wears off, the crowds will disappear and they won’t be able to make their repayments.”

  “Christ, that doesn’t sound good. I don’t know that cooking there for a night can stop that from happening, but I’ll do it. At the very least, we can raise some extra money and get them a little press.”

  I can hear the smile in her voice. “Thanks, Brad. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “No problem.” Silence fills the line as I hesitate to ask the thing I’ve really wanted to ask since I heard her voice.

  “Guess I’ll see you Saturday,” she says.

  “Yeah. But, ah, Stacey?”

  “Yes?”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “Will Dakota be there?” The words come out in a rush, then I hold my breath, waiting for the answer.

  “I’m not sure,” she says. “Maybe.”

  “Do you still see her?”

  “Sometimes.” There’s something about the speed and shortness of her words that tells me this isn’t a conversation she wants to have.

  “I’ll see you Saturday then,” I say, squashing down the pit in my stomach that’s filled with questions I know I’m not getting answers to.”

  “I’ll tell her you said hi,” she offers as consolation.

  “No,” I say, a little too quickly, regretting it instantly. “I mean, sure. Tell her I said hi.”

  “OK. But, Brad. I know you never got your answers, but it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. It was a long time ago. Dragging it all back up isn’t going to help anyone.”

  “I should go,” I say, disconnecting the call and dropping my phone on the seat beside me. I don’t have the energy to go for a run anymore. But, I put my ear buds in and head off anyway, turning the music up loud enough so that even I can’t hear my thoughts about what seeing Dakota again is going to be like. We were only young, but there was a time when she meant everything to me. Then she was gone, and I never knew why. How am I supposed to ignore that?

  Eleven

  Dakota

  “I need the banners set up, and there's a delivery that needs to be brought upstairs.” I consult the clipboard in my hands as I allocate different jobs to the squad members who are acting as waiters and ushers for the evening. “Someone needs to finish putting the stage together and moving all these chairs.” I point with my pen and they scatter in different directions. They’re teenagers, so I have to micromanage their every movement, but things are slowly coming together.

  This fundraising event is a huge undertaking that we do every year. Its purpose is to raise enough money to fund the sporting side of the club by purchasing new equipment, paying for security on the boat sheds, keeping the coaching boats maintained and helping towards the cost of competing for our athletes, and the education of our coaches. We invite sponsors and those who have been kind enough to donate to the club before each time, and each year we invite the past members who signed up a decade before. There is always a point in the night where we put up a slide show with photos from ten years prior, which allows past members to have a look back at their past glory and be reminded of how much they loved coming here. It's a good way to get them to dig deep into their pockets to keep the club going for future athletes to have the same opportunities they did.

  Normally, I love the reunions. I get the chance to see people I haven’t seen since I was a kid and find out how their lives turned out. But this particular reunion is the one I haven’t been looking forward to at all, because ten years ago is when I met Brad.

  At thirteen, I immediately had a crush on the boy who wore an earring in his brow and one in his lip. He was sixteen at the time, and to me, he looked like such a bad boy; which at thirteen meant that he looked like a lot of fun. I had purposely not told him how old I was, because I didn’t want him to think I was too young for him to date. So when my father intervened and revealed my age to him, all flirtation between us ended rather abruptly, and Brad was more than a little angry with me. Needless to say, I was devastated. But as time went on, Brad began to calm down, and while our friendship never returned to what it was, there was still that underlying current in the air between us. I knew that despite our age gap, we were meant to be. I just needed to bide my time. I probably should have waited longer than I did. I pushed the issue of our attraction when I was only sixteen, and looking back, I know I was t
oo young to handle the kind of connection we had back then. I should have waited until I was eighteen and he was twenty-one. But I pushed. I felt all grown up and mature when it went my way, and then I made a really stupid decision. A decision that made it impossible for me to go back to him. I couldn’t even say goodbye.

  “Hey, Dakota, where do you want these?” Sally asks, stopping in front of me with a box filled with fairy lights.

  It snaps me out of my thoughts, forcing me to focus on the job at hand, instead of reminiscing over a time long past. I raise my hand and point towards the balcony doors. “They're getting set up out there,” I state, before clearing my throat and checking over the list again, my stomach filling with butterflies as the time to begin draws near. It’s been ten years, will I even be able to say hello?

  * * *

  Brad

  “Paige wants to know if you want to car pool,” Elliot asks over the phone. I'm at Quay helping my sous chef, Gus, get everything ready for the night. Friday and Saturdays are our busiest evenings, and it's rare that I take one of these nights off. But my team is so well trained, I have nothing to worry about.

  I gesture to Gus, letting him know I’m leaving the kitchen, and he nods, waving me off and holding up his thumb to signal that he's all good.

  “What time are you leaving?”

  “About 6:30. We can swing past yours around 6:45 if the traffic’s good.”

  I check my watch. “I've got a few things to finish up here first, so I'll have to meet you there.”

  “You stalling?” Elliot calls me out straight away.