The Texan Quartet (Books 1-4) Omnibus

by Claire Boston

  Tai blinked then grinned. “Let me plate it up.”

  He made up three plates with the different options and gave Kath a fork.

  “You’re planning on serving this as an entrée?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  She called one of the line chefs, Jared, over and handed him a fork as well. Tai waited until they had tried each dish. He had his preference but he liked to involve his team, find out if there were any issues with the dish such as difficulty to prepare or similar flavors to an already existing menu item.

  “That one,” Kath said, pointing to the plate in the middle.

  Jared nodded. “It has the right balance and is really fresh.”

  Tai grinned. It was the one he preferred as well.

  “If you write up the ingredients we need, I should be able to add it to the specials board next week.” Kath retrieved a notebook from a nearby shelf.

  Tai rattled off the ingredients and quantities, then turned to Jared. “You got time after lunch to go through the method?”

  Jared was his seafood chef and would be in charge of the preparation of the dish.

  “Yes, chef.”

  Tai glanced around his kitchen, which was busy now with people preparing lunch for the early-comers. This was his place, his business, and he’d built it himself, knowing exactly what he wanted it to represent. Sure, he still had a loan to pay off, but that was just part of doing business.

  His food was described as a fusion of Texas barbeque, Mexican tang and Native American flavors. There was nothing else like it in Houston, which was one reason it had become so popular so quickly.

  His menu was slowly leaning more toward the Native American flavors. He wanted to move away from the barbeque and Mexican food, and focus on the food of his people – the dishes that were in danger of being lost due to western influences.

  Tai wouldn’t let it happen. He wrote down all of the traditional recipes he was taught, and had lists of foods his tribe used to eat before Europeans arrived. He planned to do a cookbook one day.

  He was also considering branching out, opening another restaurant in Austin or San Antonio. The Wooden Spoon was running well and he wanted to discover if his success could be replicated in another city and whether he could spread his traditional culture further.

  But that would also drag him out of the kitchen. Cooking was his passion and the administrative side of the business already took up too much of his time. Perhaps it was time he hired someone to deal with those day-to-day tasks he hated.

  “Need an appetizer for table five,” someone yelled.

  Tai grinned as the call brought him back to the kitchen.

  It was time to get to work.

  ***

  On Sunday Piper woke at a ridiculous hour to get to the triathlon start line before it began. She’d been allocated the event because the sports reporters were covering the more important sporting events taking place in Houston that day. She’d been told to focus on the charity it was raising money for rather than the race itself.

  She took her camera and got a number of good, early-morning shots of people milling around with their race numbers on, some doing stretches, some checking their phones, a number of people looking bored or nervous.

  Piper caught up with the event organizer after the race began and listened to his monologue about the cancer research program that would benefit from the proceeds of the day. It was a cause most people were prepared to get behind – and one Piper supported herself.

  After speaking with him, she interviewed a couple of volunteers, asking why they chose to volunteer for this particular cause and what they thought of the turnout.

  Finally she drove to the finish line to interview the first people across the line. They were the ones who didn’t necessarily care about the charity, but were competing because it was what they loved to do. They were racing against their own times and their fellow competitors. Piper spotted one of the athletes she was meant to be interviewing as part of the People of Houston series.

  She grabbed a bottle of water from the supply for competitors, and wandered over to the seven-foot-tall African-American basketball player who was bent over, catching his breath.

  “Not your usual sport,” she commented when he glanced up at her.

  He took the bottle she offered and took a long swig. “Thought it would improve my stamina,” Russell said.

  Piper grinned at him. She supported his team, the Houston Rockets, and knew he was an excellent player, but couldn’t last four quarters. “You’ve done well: top ten percent I’d say.” Then because she didn’t want to mislead him, she added, “I’m Piper Atkinson, reporter with the Houston Age. Can I ask you a few questions?”

  Russell straightened, still breathing heavily. “Sure.”

  She asked him about the race and his training regime. He dropped the names of his sponsors and talked up his dedication to his team. Someone had done a good job training him to be media ready.

  “I’m doing a series of in-depth profiles of the people of Houston for the Age,” she told him at the end. “I’d love to interview you for it.”

  “Sounds great. Call my agent and he’ll set you up with a time.” Russell wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts and then shook her hand.

  “Thanks for your time.”

  “Pleasure’s all mine,” he said and winked.

  Piper smiled at him, used to the reaction. She’d interviewed many people who’d thought she was a ditsy blond and she wasn’t above using it to her advantage. Often people confided things to her that they wouldn’t have if they’d been more on their guard. Of course she only used the information if it was relevant to the story, but she had on occasion received some very angry complaints when the article came out.

  She didn’t mind. She was doing her job and she was always very clear from the start that she was a reporter, and that anything they said could end up in the newspaper. If they felt comfortable with her, then she was doing her job well.

  Happy she’d got what she needed for her article, she headed to Elle’s bookshop café, Eat, Drink, Read, for some brunch. She hadn’t bothered with breakfast and was now desperate for something to fill the hole in her belly.

  She carried her laptop into the café and noticed a single wingback chair free in the book area, so she hurried over to grab it.

  Elle waved at her and called, “The usual?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Piper fired up her laptop and plugged in her digital pen to upload the voice recordings and notes she’d taken that morning.

  “Did you enjoy Adahy’s session on Friday?” Elle asked as she delivered Piper’s cappuccino and pecan pie.

  “Yeah, it was fantastic. I can’t wait for the single to be released.”

  “He’s so nice as well. George is always saying how down to earth he is and how easy he is to work with.”

  “Pity his brother didn’t pick up some of those traits,” Piper said.

  Elle laughed. “I’ve met Tai. He’s a bit scary, all intense and quiet. He and George get along well though.”

  “George gets along well with everyone,” Piper said. Perhaps he could be a gateway to Tai. “Weren’t you cutting back your hours?” she asked. Elle had been working almost constantly since she opened the café a few months earlier, but with its success, she’d been able to hire more people and cut back on her own hours.

  “I am, but Mary-Beth called in sick today. George has taken Toby over to visit Kate so I was free to come in.” Toby was Elle’s five-year-old son.

  “You must be so pleased with how it’s all going.”

  Elle beamed at her. “I am. I never dreamed it would be this successful, especially after I left Dean with next to nothing.” She glanced around. “I’d better get back to it. I’ll call you when I get a spare table.”

  “Thanks.”

  Piper ran the conversion software on her computer to convert her handwriting and voice to text, and took a sip of her coffee. Russell was fourth
on her list of interviewees but if she interviewed him sooner it would give her a little bit of breathing space. The ten profiles would be run each week for the next ten weeks.

  She debated whether to send some introductory emails to the other interviewees but decided against it. She always had a better success rate calling people than emailing, so it could wait for Monday.

  She read over the notes she’d taken and then she started writing.

  ***

  When Piper got to work on Monday morning, after interviewing the first person on her People of Houston project, she headed straight into Geraldine’s office.

  “I’ll have the first profile on your desk by tomorrow evening,” she said by way of greeting.

  “Good. How’s it going?”

  “The interview with Shirley went well and I’m arranging a couple more today. I did want to ask about the last person, Taima Woods.”

  Geraldine looked up. “What about him?”

  “What made you choose him?”

  “The man’s a recluse. If you get an interview with him, it will be the scoop of the year,” Geraldine said. “Keith wants it badly.”

  So there wasn’t a political agenda with him – just status. It was slightly strange but she’d work with it. “I’ve been doing a bit of research and a great follow-on series from Taima’s story could be an investigation of Native Americans in the Houston area, or perhaps even Texas.”

  Geraldine raised an eyebrow. “What’s our readership demographic?” she asked.

  Piper stifled a sigh. “Middle- to upper-class conservative white Americans.”

  “Do you think they want to be reading about Indians?”

  “They would if they realized the appalling state some of them are living in,” she said.

  “No. They wouldn’t. You know that, Piper. People are only interested in what’s in it for them. They don’t want to hear about the impoverished or be blamed for stealing land they were born on.” She paused. “Besides, there aren’t many Native Americans in Houston. Tell me if you have any sensible ideas.” Geraldine turned back to her computer screen.

  Piper had been dismissed. She bit her lip to stop herself from arguing. She’d already been in trouble once this month after disagreeing about the way her article on a women’s shelter had been cut so the meat was gone and all that was left was a fluff piece. It wasn’t what she’d expected when she got the job. She thought then that they’d want well-written, fact-filled pieces, real investigative journalism, but that hadn’t turned out to be the case. She didn’t know why she still bothered doing all her research properly.

  She had to stop expecting the best from the Age. They were just going to keep disappointing her. No. She’d work on the series in her own time, write the articles she wanted to write and then put them on her own blog.

  Heading back to her desk, she made a few phone calls and lined up more interviews, including the one with Russell. Then she flicked through the press releases that had come through, flagging those with enough interest to convert to a story. She spent the next hour writing up the articles she needed, before a phone call came in and she headed off to cover a story about a new baby giraffe at the Houston zoo.

  Somehow she’d become a dogsbody journalist, doing stories no one else had time for. As she walked out of the building, she wondered when her dreams of being a hard-hitting investigative journalist had evaporated.

  ***

  It was the end of the day before Piper got a chance to follow up any more of her profile people. Needing a challenge, she rang the Wooden Spoon.

  “Hi! This is the Wooden Spoon; you’re speaking with Kath.” A perky female answered the phone.

  Piper crossed her fingers and began her spiel in her friendliest tone. “Hi! This is Piper Atkinson from the Houston Age. We’re doing a series of profiles about the people of Houston and would love to highlight Taima Woods and the Wooden Spoon.” Piper went into detail, explaining the series and who else she was interviewing.

  “I’m sorry. Chef Woods doesn’t do interviews.” Kath’s voice was still polite, but more subdued.

  “Perhaps he’d make an exception for me. I met him Friday night at his brother’s show. We have a mutual friend in George Jones. If I could speak with him that would be great.”

  “Hold on a minute.”

  The hold music was surprisingly soothing, a gentle drumming and pipes tune that sounded Native American in origin.

  Kath’s voice came back on. “I’m sorry, Chef Woods isn’t interested.” She hung up.

  Chapter 3

  Piper put down the receiver with a smile. She’d known it wasn’t going to be easy. The exhilaration of the challenge thrummed through her veins. It was the most excited she’d been about a story since she started at the Age. Which was perhaps a sad indictment of the amount of pleasure her job usually gave her.

  What was her next step?

  She could go to the restaurant and talk her way in, but it was close to dinnertime and she knew better than to interview anyone in the middle of his busy period.

  Perhaps she could call George and see if he would put in a good word for her. No, she didn’t want to put him in a difficult position between two friends.

  She typed Adahy’s name into her search engine and brought up his website and its list of his next performances. If Tai had been at one, perhaps he would go to more.

  There was one Wednesday night. She picked up the phone and called the music reporter downstairs. “Patti, have you heard of Adahy Woods?”

  “That name has been cropping up a lot but I haven’t been to a show.”

  “He’s so good. He’s doing a gig Wednesday night. You want to go with me?”

  “Is George looking for free press?” she asked.

  Piper laughed. “No. I’m trying to get an interview with Adahy’s brother, so if I can convince you to come, he might put in a good word for me.”

  “In that case, I’m always willing to help out a fellow reporter. Who’s his brother?”

  “He owns the Wooden Spoon.”

  Patti whistled. “High class. All right, I’ll get us tickets and you can owe me one.”

  Patti was one of the few reporters Piper could rely on. She suspected it was because she was friends with George and Adrian, who also went by the name Kent Downer and was the biggest rock star in the world, but Piper was fine with that.

  If Adahy didn’t pan out, she’d drop by the restaurant and hope to catch Tai there. If she could get him to listen to her, she was confident she’d get an interview.

  Pleased she had a plan, she began work on the first article for the series.

  ***

  “Reporters don’t normally get you so worked up,” Kath commented as Tai dropped the hot pan on the floor.

  He swore. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Grabbing a thicker glove, he scooped up the pan and dumped it in the sink then turned to find one of the kitchen hands was already cleaning up the rest of the mess. “Thanks.”

  The kid smiled at him and hurried away.

  “You’ve been distracted ever since I told you about the call,” Kath insisted.

  He wished she’d drop it. He wanted to forget about Piper but there was something about her that stuck to his memory like chewing gum to hair.

  “The series sounds great. They’re interviewing a lot of high-profile people. You should be pleased to be asked.”

  “So they can have their token Native American?” he asked. So they could show their wonderful diversity of coverage by once a year deigning to put a minority race in a positive spotlight for once.

  “Tai, don’t be like that. You’ve made a huge success with the Wooden Spoon. It doesn’t matter what race you are: people want to know about the man behind the restaurant.”

  Kath didn’t know what it was like. She’d been a white middle-class American all her life and he’d never shown her the piece the travel journalist had done when the Wooden Spoon opened.

  “I’m not interest
ed. You can do the interview if you want.”

  Kath sighed. “They don’t want me; they want you. At least think about it.”

  “Sure.” He agreed quickly, to get her off his case. He needed to focus on his cooking and get his equilibrium back.

  ***

  Piper attended Adahy’s concert with Patti on Wednesday night. She didn’t catch any sight of Tai but she had arranged Patti an interview with Adahy, courtesy of George.

  They went backstage together and waited for Adahy to get changed. George kept them company, chatting to Patti.

  When Adahy came out he charmed the music reporter, and Piper knew the article would be great.

  At the end of the interview, Patti said, “Thanks for your time, Adahy. I hope Piper has as much luck with your brother.”

  Adahy turned to Piper with a frown.

  Quickly she said, “I mentioned the series I’m doing last time we met. I rang the Wooden Spoon earlier this week and was told Chef Woods doesn’t do interviews. I’m not sure whether the woman who answered the phone actually passed on my message.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Kath.”

  Adahy nodded. “She would have. I’ll talk to Tai and give you a call.”

  They swapped numbers and Piper left, feeling a whole lot more positive about getting an interview.

  ***

  Tai pulled into his driveway, just behind his brother. He took off his helmet and asked, “How did it go?”

  “It was amazing. The biggest crowd so far.” Adahy waited for him as he dismounted his bike and walked inside.

  “George’s friend Piper arranged an interview with the Houston Age music reporter,” Adahy said. “You met her the other night, didn’t you?”

  His happiness for his brother fled. Why did her name keep cropping up? “Yes.”

  “She wants to do some kind of profile of you,” Adahy continued. “You should consider it. She seems nice.”

  “She’s a reporter. She’s supposed to seem nice,” Tai told him, heading for the kitchen.

  “Who’s supposed to seem nice?” Rayen asked, looking up from the laptop she’d set up on the kitchen table.

  Normally Tai didn’t mind sharing a house with his brother and cousin but at that moment he’d have preferred to be alone.