by Amanda Usen
“You deserved to win the culinary competition. You were right—I changed my entire game plan the morning of the competition, and I lost because I ran out of time. But I didn’t lie to you. I told you the truth about my menu. I was just afraid you’d slept with me to find out what I was planning to cook.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why did it matter if I knew what you were planning to cook? It’s not like we could make the same thing. The judges would have disqualified us.”
“Isn’t it obvious, Jack? You told me your menu, too.” She held off tears by a thin margin and managed to smile. “I thought you were going to beat me.”
…
Jack watched Lila go. By his count, it had taken her four minutes to destroy his world, which meant he had one minute to get back to the line and help Daniel expedite. He stepped out of the office and walked past the baking alcove where Emily was plating a piece of chocolate cake. He doubled back to ask, “Emily, what do you think of the old menu. I mean, the one we’re serving tonight?”
She leaned up to kiss his cheek and handed him a cookie. “I think it’s you, Jack. And I followed you here, does that tell you anything?”
“Thanks.” He frowned and kept walking.
On the line, his cooks were pulling out their back-up ingredients. Perry grinned at him, Roz winked, and Luis twirled his salad tongs. Why the hell were they so cheerful? They were going to be unemployed soon.
“Glad to have you back, boss,” Daniel said.
Jack nodded, wondering why Daniel had been so insistent Lila rejoin him on the line. The rush was clearly over. “It’s been five minutes, but you don’t look like you need any help.”
Daniel shot him a cocky grin. “Hell, no. I was just keeping Lila busy so she didn’t freak out. You heading into the dining room? We’ve had at least a dozen demands to speak with the chef.”
Fury bloomed in his heart, jagged and hot. Goddamn Lila for leaving him to take the blame. It didn’t matter that it was technically his fault, his menu. He’d hired her so that he wouldn’t have to face polite disappointment from his diners. “I’ll go right now.”
He slammed through the swinging doors, through the short hall, and into the main dining room. The room buzzed with conversation, punctuated by laughter and the sound of silver on plates. He stopped, suddenly not wanting to interrupt whatever pleasure they might be drawing from their meals, but it was too late.
A hush fell over the room. Then a few people started clapping. More and more hands joined in until the room thundered with applause. The noise hit him like a slap to the face, and he stumbled, grabbing the back of an empty chair. They were clapping. They were actually clapping. For him.
Jack held up his hand. The crowd quieted, and he realized that meant he had to make a speech. He cleared his throat. “Welcome to Inferno, everyone.” He paused, heart pounding. Where to start? “As some of you may know, my father had a heart attack this afternoon and was rushed to the hospital. He’s resting comfortably, and they expect him to recover.” Another smattering of applause. Someone in the crowd hooted, and he saw Zane, pumping his fist in the air. Guy was sitting with him, and Marie was at the next table, giving Zane a quelling glare just as she had when they were young.
Jack grinned at them. “I know, right? I didn’t even realize the old man had a heart until tonight. But I hope all of you know I put mine into the food on your plates.” He had, he just hadn’t had any faith in its worth until Lila had left him no option. He forced himself to continue, “Tonight, my father told me he was proud of me, and that meant more to me than he will ever know.” He caught sight of his mother in the crowd, holding up her phone, obviously recording. He spoke quickly, past the tightening in his throat. “Or maybe not. Pan the crowd, Mom, and everybody raise a glass to Andrew Calabrese, my personal hero, and the man who made Inferno possible. Thanks for coming, everyone. I hope you enjoy the food.”
As applause rose again, Jack began making the rounds, feeling dazed, smiling and shaking hands at every table. Finally, he made it to the front of the restaurant, where the bar was hopping. The bartender took one look at him and reached for the Patron and a shot glass.
He had always wondered how it would feel to sit in his very own restaurant on opening night. He’d imagined joy, triumph…satisfaction. What he felt when he gazed around the room was regret and emptiness. Emptiness that increased when he tossed back a shot of tequila, a taste he now associated with Lila.
Customers had heaped praise on him as he made his way around the room, but they wouldn’t be eating the food on their plates if it had been up to him. They would have been eating Lila’s food, and he would have been eating his heart out with jealousy. She had saved him from himself. The full scope of his crime was becoming clear. She had given him the incredible gift of her faith in him, and he had thrown it back in her face.
A sudden movement beside him startled him from his thoughts. “You’ve outdone yourself, Chef. Congratulations.”
He recognized the reporter from the Times. “I’m honored to have you in the house tonight, Mr. Harris.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s an honor to be here. Your menu is flawless, and I don’t say that often. Do you have any interesting stories about the inspiration for your dishes?”
Jack couldn’t stifle a laugh.
His father wasn’t the only one he needed to thank. He’d give anything to have Lila sitting beside him right now, but he had hidden behind her talent for long enough. It was time to give her the credit she deserved, and he only hoped she would be willing to forgive him one more time.
He turned to the reporter. “You want a story, huh? Boy, have I got a story for you.”
…
It was over.
Deal with a Calabrese, get screwed. Check, please…or not, since she hadn’t taken his money. She’d all but told him she loved him, and he had thrown her out on her ass.
It was time to pack up her things and go. Without a job, she couldn’t afford the rent in Manhattan anymore. Would she move to one of the other boroughs…or would she go home to her father? It had always been a possibility in the back of her mind. She probably couldn’t count on Jack as a reference, but her culinary school degree would open the door of a decent kitchen in her hometown. Go big or go home, huh? She snorted as she opened her front door. Yup, she was going home. All the way home.
She sat down on her couch and sent a text to Betsy and Jenna, giving them a shortened version of her evening. There, now it was really done.
Her phone rang instantly.
“Hey,” she said to Betsy. It beeped, so she hit the conference button.
“Girl,” Jenna began, in a tone that told Lila she was in for it.
Lila cut her off. “I know. I’m a complete idiot. I give it all away every time. But I’m done. I swear. Never again.”
Jenna snorted. “I’ll believe that when it happens, but that’s not what I was going to say. You would not believe the reviews Inferno is getting. People are going crazy over the menu. The Internet is buzzing, and it’s all good. This kind of buzz is a chef’s wet dream. If Jackson Calabrese doesn’t get down on his knees and thank you, he’s a fool.”
“He is a fool,” Betsy broke in. “But at least you’re rich.”
“I didn’t take the check,” Lila spoke over her friends’ roars of outrage. “I didn’t want his money. I wanted him. I even kissed him on the way out the door, but he still let me go. It’s not supposed to happen that way. I had a different ending in mind. I guess I’ve seen too many movies.”
“You did the right thing, Lila.” To her surprise, it was Betsy who spoke. “You gave it a shot. You were honest with him. Even though it didn’t work out, and he may never understand the gift you gave him, you did a beautiful thing. I’m proud of you.”
Jenna cleared her throat. “Yeah, it pains me to say this, but don’t count him out just yet. Jack-off always was a little slow. His dad had a heart attack then you threw him a hell of a sucker punch. Did you race out t
he door as per your usual method of operation?”
“What do you mean?” Lila asked, stung.
“Lila, honey, you cut and run. It’s what you do. Are you having thoughts of moving back home with your father?”
Betsy giggled. “You do love a dramatic exit. I really enjoyed watching Jack look for you at the graduation ceremony, knowing you were already on a train out of town.”
Lila felt her mouth drop open. “Is this what you call being supportive?”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and don’t you dare pack a bag unless you are coming to visit one of us. Why don’t you go see Jack’s friend, you know, the one he hates. Get him to offer you a job, and you can make Jack jealous.”
“Perfect!” Jenna squealed.
Lila felt no urge to make Jack jealous, but she did have a powerful craving for a Long Island Iced Tea Float and a conversation with a woman who knew what it was like to love a Calabrese man. “No promises. That train is looking pretty good, but I’ll think about what you said. I’ll talk to you soon.” Lila hung up.
Was Jenna right? Did she cut and run? It hurt to think about it, but maybe that meant it was true. Hadn’t she almost bolted out of Inferno last week? And she hadn’t finished her art degree because she had been devastated by what Adam had done. His indifference had shattered her. She’d skipped graduation because she hadn’t wanted to face Jack after losing the competition. Now she was ready to pack her bags and head home once again. Did she really want to start her life all over? Or was she just afraid to stay in New York and come to terms with the fact Jack didn’t want her?
“Ouch,” she whispered aloud. The truth really did hurt, but it was also enlightening. Empowering. She wasn’t going to give up because Jack Calabrese was a stubborn ass. Hell, no. She would have to find a cheaper apartment and get another job, but she loved New York, and she was going to stay. Somehow. With that thought firmly in mind, she changed into street clothes, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door to get as drunk as possible on high-proof ice cream. She wasn’t flat broke yet, and now she didn’t have to buy a train ticket.
Chapter Eighteen
Lila’s head was pounding. At every subway stop, she wanted to switch trains and head back home to bed, but she refused to give in to the impulse. Since she’d overslept, she was already running late, and this was too good an opportunity to lose. For the chance to keep her apartment, she would work for anybody.
Marie had arrived at the shop Friday night and found Lila halfway through her second Long Island Iced Tea Float. Since it was doubtful she’d ever brave the long line again, she had gone for the gusto. In short order, Marie had dragged her back into the kitchen, fortified her ice cream with a healthy shot of high-proof rum, and demanded to know why the hell Jack looked so miserable on his opening night.
Lila had told her everything.
After more rum, she had even shared Betsy’s idea for making Jack jealous. Marie had declared it genius and called Zane on the spot. Three minutes later, Lila had a new job, starting at eight the next morning. Unfortunately, she hadn’t taken the certainty of a hangover into consideration.
She rummaged in her purse for her phone. She’d barely had time to down a cup of coffee, and hadn’t checked for messages since she woke up. It wasn’t there, and she sighed as she realized her phone was still by her bed, where it had been all night. Pathetic. Jack wasn’t going to call.
When the train stopped, she got off as fast as she could. She hustled up the steps and down the street, glad Standing Room was only a few minutes walk. She was going to be right on time after all.
Zane answered her knock at the back door. “Done with your Jack snack already, huh?” His gray eyes were full of laughter. “You’ve come to the right place.”
“Uh…” What on earth had Marie said on the phone?
He chuckled. “Just kidding, sweetheart. Come on in. Any chance you know how to tend bar? I’m short-handed, and we’re going to be slammed for lunch.”
Her heart sank. He wasn’t going to let her hide in the kitchen? She could barely think straight this morning. The fast pace of bartending might kill her, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “No problem.”
“Great. Do you mind cleaning lettuce and helping out in the pantry until the bartenders get in?”
“I’m happy to do anything.” She took the apron he handed her and wrapped it around her waist. Reflexively, she patted her pants pocket for her phone then remembered she didn’t have it. It was for the best. She didn’t need to be any more distracted than she already was. Even with all the booze in her blood, she’d seen Jack, cold-eyed and furious, in her dreams all night. The image haunted her, even though she knew he probably wouldn’t care she was working for Zane. It would be one more reason to hate her.
Zane introduced her to the pantry chef and said, “Have fun, kids.”
“Thanks.” Lila forced herself to smile, hoping they would keep her busy with brainless tasks like spinning lettuce, polishing glasses, and cutting bar fruit all day. She could do that in her sleep. She could definitely do it with a hangover and a broken heart.
…
Jack stayed up all night. He spent most of it in his father’s hospital room. The nurse came into the room in the middle of the night and found him holding his father’s hand, but she didn’t throw him out.
When the New York Times hit the stands, he was waiting. The reporter was as good as his word. It was all there in black and white. Heart pounding, he sneaked back to his father’s room and left a copy of the review by his bed with a note. Here’s hoping it’s not too late for any of us. Love, Jack.
He sat in the back of a taxi, counting the blocks until he reached Lila’s apartment. Hopefully the article would do some of his talking for him, but he still had to find a way to make her give him one more chance. When he reached her door, he paused, wondering if he should wait outside until a reasonable hour.
He lasted ten minutes in the hall before he knocked on the door. Hell, it was after eight already.
She didn’t answer. He knocked again, louder. Nothing. No sounds from within, either. No hint that she was there, but not answering the door. Desperate, he called her phone, but it went to voice-mail.
Had she cut and run again, like she had after the competition? Determination rose inside him, and he knew he would search the city, the state, the country, even the world, to find her. It hadn’t been easy to locate her the first time, but sometimes being a Calabrese was an advantage.
He dialed again, this time taking a deep breath and leaving a short message. He wanted to do his groveling in person, but first he had to find her.
Exhausted, he went home to shower. He fell into bed, and when he struggled out of black sleep several hours later, she hadn’t called him back. He left her another message, getting closer to begging, then tucked the newspaper article in his pocket just in case and went to Inferno.
His cooks wouldn’t arrive until three, so the only person in the kitchen was Emily. “You look like shit, boss. Party too hard?”
He shook his head and sank down on one of the stools in the bakeshop. “I spent the night at the hospital.”
“How’s your dad?”
“Still sleeping.”
She nudged a cookie across the table. “I read the paper this morning.”
“I know I’m an idiot.” He buried his head in his hands.
When she didn’t reply, he looked up and scowled. “Thanks a lot. I think you’re supposed to disagree with me or at least try to make me feel better.”
Her brown eyes were amused but cautious. “I have a feeling I’m about to make you feel worse.”
“Impossible.”
She shrugged as if to say you asked for it. “Zane Brampton just called and left a message for you. He made me write it down.” She handed him a piece of paper.
Lila’s working for me now. Come and get her, sucker.
“No fucking way.” Jack stood up so fast he knocked the stool over.
/> Emily grinned and held up another cookie. “One for the road?”
Jack shook his head, already moving toward the back door. He ducked into the closest taxi. “Standing Room.”
A ten-minute ride in a cab had never felt so long. This time, he didn’t hesitate to use the back door. It was open, so Jack pushed into the kitchen and found himself in the dish room. Judging from the line out front, and the speed at which the two dishwashers were moving, it was a busy lunch. He couldn’t care less. He was going to drag Zane off the line and kill him.
He stalked into the kitchen proper, and found service in full swing. Zane was calling off orders, but he stopped when he saw Jack. “I’ve been waiting for you. Did you come to see how good Lila looks working in my restaurant?”
Jack swung at him. Zane caught his fist in his palm, something he’d had a lot of practice doing in the past. “Don’t take it out on me, Jack. You’re the one who told her to leave.”
“How do you know?” Jack growled.
Zane smirked. “I saw the paper.”
His face got hot as Zane continued, “Sappiest fucking thing I’ve ever read in my life, but I called you as soon as I finished the article.” Zane released his hand. “Now, quit being an asshole and go talk to her. She’s tending bar, but I didn’t fill out her paperwork. She doesn’t belong here.”
Jack’s thoughts flashed back to Zane’s Good Samaritan-like warning about his father’s health last week. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because I’m hoping one of these years you’re going to forgive me for being a stupid kid.”
“Fat chance.” But his voice lacked conviction, and Zane’s faint smile told Jack he knew it.
“Or maybe I just want you to owe me one.” Zane shoved him toward the dining room. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
…
Lila was about to pass out. Zane hadn’t been joking. They were slammed. She lined up another half-dozen beer glasses and wiped rum-scented sweat on her sleeve, ignoring the new customer sliding onto the bar stool in front of her. He was going to have to wait.
