“Okay, Mom. I’ll ask Jack if we can work that into the budget somehow.”
“Great. See? What did I say? Absolutely the best son on the planet. Now tell me all about Oprah. Is she really that friendly? I made a bet on it with Evie.”
Settling further into the couch, Simon recounted his interview. As silly as it sounded, he never regretted choosing his mother over casual sex, no matter how painful it was at the moment. She always managed to make his hectic life seem normal.
Chapter 2
Miami was everything Simon wanted it to be: full of delicious food, sunshine, and beautiful girls. If only he didn’t have to spend most of his time admiring all three of those things from a distance.
“Oh God, Jack, please. Just one drink? My treat. Hell, I’ll buy you the whole goddamn bar if you say yes.” Their first day of filming was coming to a close and Simon was feeling unusually antsy. He wasn’t sure if it was his upcoming vacation or his thwarted hook up with Ashley, but he really needed to let off some steam. “We haven’t had a night off in…in…God, I don’t even remember the last time. New York, maybe? How sad is that? We are young and beautiful, Jack! Why are we wasting this?”
“Because you still haven’t chosen a sous-chef for the Boston branch and we need to go over your notes for tomorrow’s interview with the local morning show.”
“Okay, how about a compromise?” Simon asked as he undid the green-and-white striped apron he always wore during his show. “We take the resumes to a bar, have dinner, go over the options, choose one, and then get plastered.”
“Did you not hear the part about your interview with a morning show tomorrow?”
“Right,” Simon pouted, snapping his fingers.
“That’s too bad.” One of the aides had overheard their conversation and leaned over, resting her forearms on the film set counter so that they bracketed her cleavage perfectly. Her filmy blue scoop-necked shirt slipped a little, revealing one smooth, honey-colored shoulder. She cocked her head, watching the two men watch her, and smiled. “Some of the other girls and I were really hoping to show you guys around town tonight. So you could get to know some of the local…color.” She bit her bottom lip, wrapping a dark curl of hair around one slender finger.
Simon looked at Jack. His assistant rolled his eyes. Simon pouted again. Jack looked over at the dark-haired beauty in front of them, then back at his boss, then down at the resumes in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said to the aide, “but we really need to get some work done tonight.”
Simon groaned. “How about tomorrow, uhh–” he paused, unsure of the woman’s name.
“Keziah,” she replied, standing up straight again. “And tomorrow would be fine for us… if you can get away from your keeper,” she raised one eyebrow in challenge. Rubbing salt in the wound, Keziah gave Simon a once over and shrugged, as if unimpressed by what she saw. Without another word, she turned and left them. Both men watched her ass sway in its tight, acid-wash jeans as she sashayed away.
“I know, I know,” said Jack, holding up a hand to keep Simon from saying whatever it was he was planning on saying. Simon raised his eyebrows but kept silent. “Tomorrow night, man. I promise. I know you missed out in Boston with Tiffany --”
“Ashley,” Simon corrected him.
“With Ashley,” Jack continued, “and I’ll do my best to get you some free time tomorrow night. No surprise reschedulings and no morning interviews the next day.”
“Thank you, Jack,” Simon smiled at his assistant. They had been working together for years – ever since culinary school – and Jack did what little he could to make Simon’s life as much fun as possible. Like Simon, Jack had started out wanting to be a chef - only to find out that he hated the fast-paced restaurant environment with all its clanging pots and pans and fire and knives. He was much better at the organization and, when Simon left the academy, he took Jack with him to help him manage the business end of things. Every now and then Simon still brought Jack in as his assistant for episodes that required more than two hands. Jack enjoyed these occasional forays back into the kitchen but, for the most part, he knew his strengths and stuck to takeout.
Outside the studio, Miami was sweltering. It was evening and the sunset had turned the sky into a swirl of indigo, ruby, and gold. The tops of the enormous palm trees that lined the boardwalk swayed in a breeze that the pedestrians down below wished they could feel. At ground level, the air was hot and still.
“Ugh,” Simon said as they walked towards the rental car, “this humidity is outrageous. How do people wear clothes in this city?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but most of them don’t really,” Jack replied, nodding at a couple strolling down the boardwalk in a pair of surf shorts and a bikini.
“Fair point,” said Simon, hopping into the car. As soon as the engine was on, he cranked the AC, sighing in relief.
“Where are we going for dinner?” Jack asked, buckling in his seatbelt. Simon always had a list of new places to try and Jack was happy to go where Simon lead. It had yet to disappoint.
“How do you feel about fusion? I’ve heard amazing things about this new sushi place – with a Caribbean twist.”
“Caribbean sushi?” Jack repeated skeptically.
“I know. I have my doubts as well. But everyone’s raving about it. I want to see if it’s just some stupid fad or if it deserves the hype.”
“Lead the way,” said Jack.
Chapter 3
Two hours later, Simon and Jack sat together on the patio of the Caribbean sushi restaurant, poking at the remainder of their dinner and discussing the final candidates for the Boston restaurant’s sous-chef.
“I think it all comes down to experience,” said Jack. “Tom here has five years more experience than Letitia.” To underscore his point, Jack waved Tom and Letitia’s resumes in turn.
“But Letitia has a way more interesting set of experiences. I went to Le Gant Noir last time I was in Louisiana and it was incredible. Now that was fusion food – unlike whatever it is that we just had for dinner,” Simon prodded the limp sushi on his plate with a look of disgust. “Speaking of which, I’m still hungry. Wanna grab take-out and head back to the hotel?”
“Sure, once we’ve decided between Tom and Letitia.”
“I want Letitia,” said Simon. “Do you remember her interviews? She was a firecracker. The woman could probably run the whole kitchen by herself, if we let her.”
“But Tom was steady. We need someone steady to counterbalance the chef.”
“I don’t think so. I think we need someone who will keep the chef on his toes. Who’ll give him a bit of a challenge? Besides, aren’t you always harping on about the gender imbalance in the culinary industry? She’s got the skills, let’s give her a chance.”
Jack looked over the two resumes one last time. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”
Simon shook his head.
“All right. I’ll have someone call Letitia in the morning.”
“You’re a star, Jack. Now let’s go get some burgers!”
***
The next day, Simon began his morning run feeling very optimistic. Things were coming together with the new Boston branch: the kitchen staff was complete; the lease was signed; the decorators would be done by next week, and the menu was nearly perfect. Everything would be ready for the grand opening before he left for Malaysia. The feeling of satisfaction he got from finishing a project like this was almost like a high. He knew he would be walking on air straight through until he left for vacation. He didn’t even mind thinking about work during his jog today. It just made him run faster.
The scenery didn’t hurt either. Even though it was early in the morning, bronzed blondes in colorful string bikinis were already lounging in the early sun, their enormous sunglasses glinting in the light. They all seemed to be smiling and laughing, rubbing tanning oil on each other’s toned backs and passing around containers of tropical fruits to snack on. Simon licked
his lips, thinking about his plans for that evening. Jack had promised him the night off to go experience some “local color” as Keziah the beautiful aide had put it. Simon couldn’t wait.
But, when he finally got back to the hotel, Jack was waiting for him in the lobby. Simon’s heart sank. He could tell by Jack’s face that something big had gone wrong – and that meant that he could kiss his night off goodbye.
“What happened?” Simon asked, nodding to Jack as he headed for the elevator. Without bothering with pleasantries, the other man fell into step with Simon, following him into the elevator.
“We told Jean about our sous-chef and he’s thrown a tantrum. He’s threatening to quit. Says he won’t work with a, and I quote, ‘untrained ghetto urchin who only got hired for her sexy pout’.” Jack made air quotes with his fingers.
Simon raised his eyebrows. “Does she have a sexy pout? I don’t remember that. I would definitely have remembered a sexy pout.”
“Simon, this is serious. Jean is our head chef! He’s the star of the restaurant. We can’t go ahead without him.”
“Sure we can, Jack. He’s not the star. At the risk of sounding like a total ass here, I’m the star. If he’s going to be sexist and, frankly, racist about my choice in sous-chef then he can leave.”
“Simon, you can’t let Jean go. We need a chef. We open in less than three weeks!”
“Okay, what do you want to do, Jack?” The two men got out of the elevator and headed for Simon’s room.
Simon went to run a shower while Jack stayed in the bedroom, talking to his boss through the bathroom door. “I’ve booked us on a flight back to Boston this evening. After filming is over, we’re flying up there to sort this mess out face-to-face. Jean will behave better if you show up in person.”
“That’s your plan? You’re banking on my winning personality to get us out of this?”
Jack shook his head then, realizing Simon couldn’t see him, said, “No. I’m also going to call Letitia back and tell her that we’re very sorry but we’ve had a change of heart. Then I’m going to call Tom and offer him the job.”
“No way!” Simon called. “I’m not costing a completely worthy candidate a job just because Jean has an issue with her gender. She deserves the job – this is Jean’s problem, not hers. I guess we’ll just have to see what my winning personality can do then.”
“I’m sorry about tonight, Simon,” Jack said.
“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Simon replied. “It’s not your fault Jean is a dick.”
Jack smiled. “I’ll see you on set in 15, ok?”
“Yep. I’ll be right down. Oh, and Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Remind me to call my mom and tell her I’m going to have to cancel on the Grand Canyon, ok? I don’t think we’ll have time for it now.”
“I doubt it,” said Jack. “Do you want me to call her for you?”
“Nah,” Simon shut off the water and began to towel himself dry. “If I’m going to cancel on her the least I can do is tell her myself.”
“Such a good son,” Jack said with a smile.
“You betcha,” Simon replied.
***
It was dark in Boston by the time they landed and Simon was exhausted. On the plane, he and Jack had alternated between their chef problem and finishing the new menu. It had made for a productive flight, but a tiring one. Leaning his forehead against the cab’s window, Simon watched the lights of the city go by.
“We don’t meet with Jean until tomorrow afternoon, right?” he asked Jack without turning his head.
“Right,” said Jack. “We can let him sweat a bit. But in the morning we’re doing a tour of the restaurant to check the decorating, and we have to talk with suppliers about the menu after that. I’m hoping to get as much out of the way while we’re here as we can.”
“So efficient. Thanks, Jack,” said Simon, his voice tired.
“Just doing my job, Simon. Get some sleep tonight and take a nice long run. Our first meeting isn’t until 11.”
“Roger that.” Simon was already nodding off in the taxi.
Chapter 4
Emily was holding two different pre-wrapped packages of vegetable skewers, one in each hand, and eyeing them critically. Next to her, her roommate and best friend Isabella was debating between different salmon cuts.
“I mean it’s just veggies on a stick,” said Emily. “I’m sure they’ll both taste great. How hard can this be?”
“You do remember last time we tried to cook something other than pasta with sauce, right?” Isabella asked rhetorically as she frowned at the salmon in the supermarket display in front of her.
“What happened to that turkey was not our fault,” Emily replied. “Your family was in town. It was Thanksgiving. Those hellion little brothers of yours were running around breaking things left, right, and center. We can’t be expected to produce culinary masterpieces in circumstances like that.”
“It was burnt to the bone, Emily. To the bone.”
“Well,” Emily replied, tossing one package of skewers back into the display case, “at least no one got food poisoning. It could have been worse.”
Isabella chuckled. “How does this one look?” She chose a thick filet of salmon from the arrangement.
“Pink,” said Emily.
“They’re all pink,” Isabella replied.
“Well, that one’s a particularly nice shade of pink. Come on, let’s go get some bread.”
Isabella put the salmon into their shopping cart as if it were made of porcelain. “Finally an ingredient we know how to choose,” she said.
“Yes. We can say that at least. If nothing else, we are truly gifted at eating bread.”
“Connoisseurs, really,” Isabella draped her arm around Emily’s shoulders, leaning on her friend.
“Let’s get some cheese too,” said Emily. “That way if this all goes sideways at least we can make some sandwiches.”
“It’s not going to go sideways!” Isabella protested. “I’ve got it all planned. Have a little faith, Emily!”
“Sure, nothing could go wrong with us trying to barbecue.”
“Oh, did we get propane?”
“I thought it was a charcoal barbecue?”
“Oh. Right, yeah. So… did we get charcoal?”
Emily rolled her eyes. “We’re off to a really good start here,” she said.
“It’s an easy mistake to make!” Isabella protested. “Don’t most barbecues run on propane? Anyone could have got them confused.”
“I bet Simon Kavel wouldn’t have,” Emily teased.
“Ugh, that’s because he’s a god among men,” Isabella replied. “How anyone can cook such delicious food and still be so fit is beyond me. If I could cook like that you would have to roll me to school.”
“Just as well that we’re both hopeless cases in the kitchen then,” Emily replied, sticking her tongue out.
Isabella laughed. “You’re probably right.”
***
The next morning was bright and warm and Simon decided to try a new route. He flagged down a taxi and headed down to the waterfront to catch the ferry to Bumpkin Island, one of the many little islands in the Boston harbor that offered woodland trails, beaches, and camping to summer tourists. Because the spring weather could still be unpredictable, Simon was hoping to have the island more or less to himself. Summer holidays were still a few months off and no one but him would be bothering to go all that way for a mid-week morning run. If he couldn’t have his night out in Miami, at least he could treat himself to an extra-long run somewhere secluded where he didn’t have to worry about other pedestrians, their children, or their dogs.
***
“Oh my God, come on, Izzy!” Emily stuck her head out the car window, pushing her sunglasses down her freckly nose to peer back up at the townhouse.
“You know we can’t go without the salmon,” Isabella shot back as she ran back up the stairs to the front door. “That’s the main course!
”
“Whatever, we have those vegetable kebab things we got at the market. We are going to miss the ferry!”
On the stoop, Isabella turned, putting her hands on her hips. “But we have to try the salmon! It looked sooo good when Simon made it.”
“Oh for goodness sake stop talking about that man like you know him, Izzy! He’s a celebrity chef, not your neighbor!”
Isabella licked her innocent-looking rosebud lips and waggled her eyebrows in a way that was not at all innocent. “Well, I would love to get to know him, if you know what I mean.”
Big Bad Billionaires Page 73
