In the Raw

by Eileen Griffin

  Ethan pulled me closer to him and whispered in my ear, “I don’t know what happened to Reed, but the thought of him failing was worth having this class.”

  I leaned against him and smiled, finally relaxing after I’d freaked out about the whole money thing during our presentation. “I agree. Now we need to find out what the deal is. Think Stacey will spill what she knows? I’m pretty sure she realized he was a jerk after the first five minutes she was partnered with him.”

  “It’s worth a try.” He chuckled next to me as we settled in to watch Stacey give a great presentation which had nothing to do with asshole partners or his name all over their brand, or dull, unappealing fast-food restaurants.

  * * *

  Stacey grinned and leaned against the wall next to Ethan. “Not everyone can have a partner like you, Martin.”

  When Ethan raked his gaze over my face and body, it was so hot it felt like a physical touch. I looked away, wondering when I was ever going to get used to the way he saw me.

  “True statement, Stacey. I’d love to say I’m sorry for monopolizing the best partner here, but we both know I’m not. What’s the deal with Jackson? Last I heard, he was gung ho with his desire to populate the world with more chain restaurants.”

  It was no secret Reed was all about the financial aspect of the cooking industry. He wanted to make the big bucks by climbing a corporate ladder somewhere, rather than putting in time in the kitchen.

  I stole a glance at Ethan and smirked when he winked at me. Stacey groaned and banged her head against the wall. “All I know is he called me last week and said I was on my own for the presentation. He got some job with a big fancy corporation and dropped out. Lannister? Lancaster?”

  I felt my stomach drop at her words and Ethan’s smirk vanished. “Lassiter?”

  Stacey nodded. “That’s it. He totally left me hanging and I had to pull together everything myself. But at least I didn’t have to listen to him tell me how great he was anymore.” She stopped and her eyes narrowed. “Lassiter? Isn’t that your last name?”

  “Yeah. My family owns Lassiter Corporation. But I’m not exactly on their favorite people list.”

  She regarded me seriously for a second. “If you’re not I can’t imagine what Reed did to end up on it. I mean, look at you. Between you and Martin, you’re the walking poster boys for culinary school. All they have to do is slap your faces on advertising and people would line up.”

  I chuckled. “Better poster boy than Golden Boy.”

  She smiled. “I’ve got to get going, but good luck to you both in the competition.”

  As Ethan and I followed her down the hallway, I knew what Reed had done to earn his place as my father’s new favorite. He’d sold us out, and right now I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Any of it. Not just the presentation, or Reed and my family’s dismissal, but the fact the people who were supposed to love me no matter what, now suddenly favored the one person who had sold me out.

  Ethan squeezed my hand, stopping in the middle of the hallway and pulling me out of my thoughts. “I can’t believe I made jerk-off jokes and you didn’t laugh at either one. Wanna talk about it?”

  Realizing I hadn’t heard a word he had said since Stacey had dropped the L-bomb on us, I sighed and squeezed his hand. “Sorry. Just wrapping my brain around Reed taking my place as the golden child in my family. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. They were in the market for a new and improved one hundred percent less gay son they could show off in public and be proud of.”

  Ethan growled as his fingers squeezed my hand painfully hard. “Your parents are assholes. If your dad actually thinks Reed is a good fit for his company, I have even less respect for him as a businessman than I did before I knew what a shitty father he was.”

  I tried to pull away from him, but he refused to let go of my hand. Instead he pulled me toward him and wrapped his arms around me. “Sorry. I know this sucks, but think about how painful it will be for your dad to have to deal with Jerkoff Jackson in his company. There’s got to be some kind of karmic payback in there somewhere, right?”

  I chuckled, imagining the hell it would be to have to deal with either one of them on a daily basis, and tilted my face up to kiss under Ethan’s jaw. “Thank you. I’m going to keep that mental image for my happy place from now on.”

  Snorting, he dipped his face down and captured my lips in a quick kiss. “I thought I was your happy place.”

  I couldn’t help but grin against his lips. “You are my happy place, especially when you’ve just come out of the shower with only a towel on.”

  The smirk which slowly spread across Ethan’s face was worth every minute of conversation we’d wasted on my crappy family. Before we could get in any more trouble in the hallway, I tugged his hand to keep him moving down the hallway toward the exit.

  “Hey, let’s celebrate acing our presentation by grabbing a bite to eat on the way back to my apartment.”

  My stomach rumbled in response, obviously in agreement a celebratory meal was in order. “Sounds good, but I better stop by financial aid first. I’ve put it off for too long.”

  “Probably a good idea. Those applications are long as fuck and twice as boring. Pretty sure the only thing they don’t ask you is if you top or bottom.” Ethan snorted as he led us toward the administration side of the school.

  Ethan and I walked the entire way across campus hand in hand. He cocked his head a few times with a curious look on his face, but didn’t release his hold on me. As much as I had gotten used to being with Ethan and was becoming more comfortable with being “out” with him in public, since the day in Chef Boulanger’s class, we had kept our PDA at school to a minimum. Until today. I wasn’t sure if it was the realization my relationship with my parents was completely severed, or if I was through with being in the closet, but it felt right to be here with him like this. Holding hands. With him. In front of everyone and anyone who might see us. I had tried and failed to do what was expected of me for twenty-two years, and frankly, I was done. I wanted to begin living my life for me. And I wanted to live my life showing the world I wasn’t afraid to hold Ethan’s hand in public.

  * * *

  I found Ethan sitting on the floor with his back against the hallway wall, his eyes closed in a rare moment of stillness. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d caught a glimpse of him this relaxed. Even in sleep, he twitched and tossed and turned. Watching him, I realized how tired he looked. This semester hadn’t been easy on either one of us, but sometimes I got so wrapped up in my own problems I failed to remember Ethan had his own stress to deal with. And lately, I had added to his stress by moving into his apartment.

  I sighed and made a silent promise to keep in mind I wasn’t the only one who counted on getting the scholarship at the end of the semester. All my good intentions of waking him gently were shot to hell when my phone’s annoying ring tone trilled in the once-quiet hallway.

  Ethan stirred, opening his eyes to blink up at me blearily, but made no move to get up from the floor. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and gritted my teeth when I saw the number on the screen.

  “Who is it?” Ethan’s voice was sleep roughened as he scrubbed his hand over his face and pushed up from the floor.

  “My dad.”

  Ethan’s eyebrows rose as I actually flipped open my phone and answered. I was tired. Tired of my parents’ attempts to control me, tired of their homophobic bullshit, and tired of never being good enough to be their son.

  “Hello?”

  “James? Why haven’t you returned any of our phone calls?”

  “Hello, Dad. I’ve been busy with school and job hunting.” I tilted my head at the door and Ethan followed along with me, bumping my shoulder with his in support.

  “Do you realize you missed dinner with your mother and me again? It was beyo
nd shameful to have to explain to our friends and their daughter our only son wasn’t going to show after we waited on you for almost an hour.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t invite Reed Jackson, Dad. After all, he’s perfect for the Lassiter name, right? Straight, greedy and lacking any kind of morals.”

  “That’s enough, James.”

  “No, it’ll never be enough. But I’m through with you trying to control every single aspect of my life. No more. I’ll get the rest of my stuff out of the condo, then it and the car are yours. I don’t want to be part of our family if it’s like this. I don’t need it and I don’t need you. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going to get something to eat with my boyfriend. Bye, Dad.”

  I disconnected the call and shoved it in my pocket.

  Ethan grinned at me as he unlocked his car. “Boyfriend, huh? I’ve never been called anyone’s boyfriend before.”

  I laughed softly and opened the passenger door.

  “You can be whatever you want. Boyfriend. Guy who lets me hog half his bed. Class partner, whatever. As long as we’re together it doesn’t matter.”

  When I slid into my seat, Ethan leaned across the console and kissed me softly.

  “I like boyfriend. And you do hog the bed but if you’re going to have any strength later for more hogging we need some food. Pronto.”

  I returned his smile as he started the car. I may not have biological family who wanted me any longer, but Ethan and Claire cared about me. They were my real family now.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Ethan

  The rest of the week passed in a blur of activity. Jamie and I aced our Comm presentation. Flannigan’s scribbled comment on our paper, “Creative and innovative concept. I hope to be a patron at your restaurant one day,” had floored me. I’d been so stunned, Jamie had laughed and kissed me senseless.

  We’d wrapped up our final lesson in Chef Boulanger’s class, a perfect soufflé for both of us, and were waiting outside Chef’s office for the last hurdle of the semester. The third and final round of the scholarship competition involved personal interviews in front of the panel of judges. The first candidate, Kailey Fowler, had already come and gone, leaving Boulanger’s office with a shell-shocked look on her face. After waiting almost thirty minutes, it was down to the two of us.

  “What do you think they’ll ask?” Jamie’s usual calm was gone as his foot twitched in time with my own nervous bouncing.

  I winked at him. “Probably whether or not we hate the French and their soufflés.” He chuckled, but his nervous twitching only sped up. I sighed and pulled him against my side. “You’re going to ace this. You’re good at all this schmoozing shit. Golden Boy with the golden tongue.”

  My skin erupted in goose bumps when I felt his lips behind my ear. “You seemed to like my golden tongue last night.”

  I moaned softly and was about to pull him closer when Chef B emerged from his office. When his eyes landed on us, he smiled as if seeing his students—his very out male students—embracing outside his office was an everyday occurrence. It was one of the things I admired about him. Cooking was important. Everything else was just life. Normal life. “Monsieur Lassiter, we’re ready for you.”

  I gave Jamie’s hand a squeeze, chuckling when his handsome face turned bright red from embarrassment. Before turning to follow Chef into his office, Jamie hesitated. I winked and pushed him toward the door. “Knock ̓em dead, Golden Boy.”

  I heard his snort even though he’d already turned his back to me, and watched him walk into the most important meeting of our school careers. Knowing he would be in with them for a while, I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.

  Jamie had tried to hide it, but ever since the visit to financial aid and his entertaining conversation with his dad, he had been beyond stressed. Over lunch he had spilled the shitty news from the aid advisor. We had both tried to concentrate on the positives—they were going to let him turn in his application late and his unique situation might have some bearing on the outcome of whether or not he’d receive any aid, if there was any to give—but we both knew the only surefire way to ensure his tuition next year was the scholarship.

  I’d looked at it from every angle and still came up with the same end result every time. I had a consistent job and financial aid already lined up. I’d scraped by for three years in culinary school with what I currently had. What was one more year to someone like me? Jamie was still looking for a job and had no aid and nothing to his name except for the small stipend his parents had promised him. After the phone call this week, I doubted they would even follow through with their promise of a stipend. They had taken his condo and car—what else would they take before any of this was finished?

  He had asked where he could sell some of his stuff, though, with his pristine chef’s knives at the top of his list. When I asked him not to make any hasty decisions, he had smiled tiredly and said, “I need the money more than I need all this crap, E. It’s all good. You’ll see.” Not wanting to argue, I’d dug through the newspaper for the want ads. Together, we’d looked up several kitchen supply places where he could sell his stuff and hopefully make money off what would most likely sit and gather dust.

  The more resolute he became, the more helpless I felt. For years I had struggled my ass off to keep me and Claire afloat, but there seemed to be nothing I could do to help Jamie. He needed the scholarship and the opportunity to finish school without having to take a year or more off to save for it.

  Thirty-five agonizing minutes later, Boulanger’s office door opened and a tired-looking but still smiling Jamie appeared. “How did it go?”

  He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing.

  “Good?”

  “It went okay. I did what we’re supposed to do.” He reached for my fingers and squeezed gently. “You’re next.”

  I nodded and pulled myself up, wrapping my arms around Jamie, who made a surprised sound. “I’m sure you wowed them. I’ll be happy to get out of this without messing it up. But it’s alright, at least I’m being me. Just like you, finally getting to be you.”

  “Ethan...”

  When I pulled back, I flashed Jamie my usual cocky smirk. “Relax. I can do this. It’s all about the cooking, right?”

  He nodded and I stepped back and knocked on Boulanger’s office door.

  Chef’s friendly smile when he opened his door, gesturing for me to enter, put me slightly more at ease. “Monsieur Martin, please come in. Our esteemed judges, Chef Shultz and Chef Sharpe, are eager to learn more about you.”

  His office was slightly cramped with three people and me. The man and woman already waiting for us both gave me brief, polite smiles as I sat down in the last remaining chair.

  Boulanger sat behind his desk and smiled at me, opening a file in front of him.

  “Congratulations on reaching the third round of the scholarship competition, Monsieur Martin. You are only one of three people still in the running for this prestigious opportunity.” The three judges watched me shift my weight back and forth nervously.

  “Thank you, Chefs. It’s a great honor. Especially after I fucked up my soufflés. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to pull them out...” I trailed off, realizing I’d already stuck my foot in my mouth.

  Boulanger chuckled, no doubt used to my colorful vocabulary, as the other two judges laughed softly.

  “I mean, messed up. Sorry. I’m a little nervous.”

  “It’s perfectly understandable. But please relax. You are here because you have earned your position in the top three. Your grades, your scores, your recommendations and instructors have all recommended you. Your performance in previous rounds has showed you are beyond proficient with cookery and pastry. Now tell us a little about yourself.”

  I laughed nervously an
d rubbed the back of my neck. “Well, I love cooking. Everything about it. Baking, not so much but I’m slowly learning.”

  I rattled off my story of how I’d come to love it so much, how I’d spent time with Claire after school cooking. I answered every single question easily. I loved this. I’d happily keep answering anything else they threw at me.

  “Okay, last question, Mr. Martin,” Chef Shultz said as she scribbled some notes on a pad. “Why do you deserve this scholarship? Why should we give it to you?”

  “Me?”

  I stared at them and swallowed hard. I took a deep breath and thought about what I should say. All the pithy cute responses I could probably pull out of my ass. But I couldn’t do it.

  “It’d be an honor to receive the scholarship, but if we’re going to compare my performance and scores with the other two finalists? Honestly, I don’t deserve it.”

  Boulanger blinked at me for a second before taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, can you clarify what you just said?”

  “The only reason I passed pastry class and actually didn’t totally tank the pastry part of the competition was another competitor. He helped tutor me with the techniques we knew we’d need to know. The simple fact is without his help, I wouldn’t even be sitting here talking to you. So, no. With all due respect, I can’t tell you why I deserve to win this scholarship.”

  Boulanger cleared his throat. “Thank you, Monsieur Martin, for your honesty. Please attend the scholarship dinner where the winner and runners-up will be announced.”

  “Thank you, Chefs. It has been an honor.”

  I shook each judge’s hand and avoided Boulanger’s searching look as I made my way out of his office, my stomach churning. I tugged the door closed behind me and leaned against it, letting my head thump back against the wood as I slid down to sit on the floor. What did I just do? Only an idiot would screw himself out of the competition like this. I’d worked my ass off since my teenage years, then three more during school. I’d scrimped, saved and pushed myself to be the very best. But now I’d pissed my shot away, handed over my chance to study under some of the best chefs in the world in Paris.