Harris sighed. “Okay, but again, if you really feel it’s necessary. I can call security as soon as we get back to my office, and we can arrange for you to come in tomorrow morning to look through the footage.”
They walked back in silence, CJ’s mind turning with questions, doubts, and suspicions. Snapper would never do this, she kept repeating to herself. Never.
Chapter 5
When Colin had first met Kick, twenty-four years ago, Kick had his hands full with raising his ten-year-old sister and trying to start a business. Kick had just graduated from Wharton and was spending the summer racing his sailboat off the eastern shore of Maryland when his parents were killed returning from a regatta. Kick was bereft. They had finally accepted Kick’s coming out and went to support him in a race among his boating friends who were also gay. The only saving grace was that his little sister had been away at camp. That was when Kick first discovered there was no money in the family coffers. His family had been living a lie. The only money in the estate was a small insurance policy, and that was going to have to cover CJ. Relatives were aghast, but Kick had his suspicions about why his parents were, essentially, broke. His mother had begun to drink heavily and she and his dad were fighting all the time. At first he thought the arguments were about him, but after several tear-filled phone calls from CJ, he knew there was a serious problem even if he did not know exactly what it was. After the accident, CJ told him that the fights were about money, and he realized that he had to give his sister a secure environment in which to grow up. Despite the urgings of his relatives not to take on the burden of raising a ten-year-old girl, he took charge of her upbringing.
When Kick felt comfortable enough with Colin to tell him about his responsibility for his sibling, Colin immediately began to come up with a way for Kick to start his restaurant business and meet his responsibility for raising his sister.
Colin had always been a “mathlete.” He had begun to grasp numbers when he first started playing with baby blocks. Much to his parents’ surprise and concern, he learned his numbers very quickly. They knew he was different, but exactly how different was yet to be seen. By the third grade he was learning algebra and was moved into the fifth-grade math class, where he got perfect scores on every test. Finally, when he was eleven years old, his parents sought to enroll him at Hargrave Military Academy’s summer camp. Though he was one year under the required age for the camp, his math scores and letters of recommendation from his teachers led the school to waive the age requirement in his case. Since he was a mathematical genius, he was able to get financial assistance to attend.
Though his teachers urged him to think about a career as a scientist, Colin had very different ideas. He wanted to put his talent to use as a way to make money. Being a member of a low-income family, Colin was very aware of his family’s financial struggles. His dad worked two jobs, and his mom spent her days in the cafeteria at a local school. Growing up, he wore his older brother’s hand-me-downs, which his mother would mend so that they looked almost like new, certainly as good as one could buy at a local used clothing store. To be sure, there was always a hot meal on the table, but Colin knew that providing even the essentials was no easy task. Solving the problems scientists dealt with, interesting as that might be, was not what he was going to do with his life. He was determined to use his talent at mathematics to make money, so his family could live a better life, so his mom could go to the beauty parlor more than twice a year.
When he was thirteen, Colin started reading the Wall Street Journal and making mock stock acquisitions. He would take his imaginary earnings and reinvest in other equities. By his senior year in high school, if Colin’s stock portfolio was real, he would already have been a millionaire! He used an account of his “mock-stock” trading as part of his entrance application to the University of Pennsylvania and was awarded a full scholarship. While he was in college, he realized that he had little interest in dating or getting married and having a family. Women weren’t as important to him as they were to his classmates.
He had a full head of thick black hair, a long, thin face with a roman nose, piercing green eyes, and an incongruously wide mouth for a face shaped as his was. Though he was six foot two, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, giving him the look of an athlete, he actually had no interest in sports at all. He did enjoy being outdoors, so he usually had a summerlike tan all year.
During one of his visits at Thanksgiving, his mom asked him, “Colin, honey, do you have a girlfriend?”
Colin squirmed in his seat, not knowing how to respond. He considered himself more asexual at that point, not showing any definite preference one way or the other.
“Mom, I am so busy with school that I don’t have time to date. I’m trying to graduate in three years, so I can start working for real.”
“But, sweetheart, you need to make time for some fun. After all, college should be a life experience, not just homework.”
“Yeah, I know. But I really love my classes, and I’m learning so much. I’m telling you, you will be able to quit the hash slinging as soon as I graduate and get a job!” With this pronouncement, Colin maneuvered the conversation to something else.
“Son, you know I enjoy my job. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have one!” Colin’s mother never wanted her children to feel she was suffering or pushing herself on their behalf.
“Please, Mother. You could volunteer at the hospital, join the garden club, all sorts of things you would want to do, rather than have to do!”
“You’re such a good boy, Colin. And I so much appreciate your dedication to your schooling, and of course to us. But we’re just fine.” His mother was always playing June Cleaver.
As planned, Colin graduated in three years, began applying for jobs in finance, and landed a spot in a small investment firm in Washington, DC. He could still be close to his family and live in one of the most interesting and exciting cities in the world.
By the time he was twenty-eight, Colin was worth several million dollars. He had an instinct for spotting stocks that were about to enter a significant uptrend, buying them just as they began to break out, and selling them at or near the peak. He was especially adept at investing in technology stocks, and since some of the greatest winners were in technology, Colin made a lot of money for himself and his clients.
As promised, he bought his parents a lovely but modest house in Virginia and provided an income so that his father was able to retire and his mom could join the garden club and get her hair done once a week.
Colin was proud of his accomplishments but began to feel a pang of loneliness and an absence of purpose. “Okay, pal. So you can make money. Now what?” He looked into the mirror one evening and decided to become involved in local charities. But which one? He had heard about a no-kill animal shelter that was celebrating its twenty-fifth anniversary. It seemed funny that very few people seemed to know about it, but after a little research he discovered they had a 97 percent adoption rate and needed funding for a new dog run. The fund-raiser was going to feature several of the most talented nuevo cuisine chefs. It would be a contest that would be decided by a vote of the guests. Sounded like a good use of his time, and a lot of great food.
The event took place at the National Union Building, and that was where he first saw his future life partner: Kendall “Kick” Carlson Jansen. Kick was intense, focusing on every detail of the grilled lamb lollipops with cilantro lime sauce, and the presentation to every guest that waited in line for this extraordinary delight. After walking around the large main ballroom on the second floor of the building, Colin was intoxicated by the aroma coming from the small grill plate on one chef’s table and decided he would wait the twenty or so minutes before he could savor the dish.
“Would you hold my place in line?” Colin begged the person behind him. “I think I need to quench my thirst, and it looks like we’re going to be here awhile.”
A beautiful Asian woman, with piercing green eyes, blac
k hair, and a generous mouth, wearing a pencil skirt and a sheer blouse from Bergdorf Goodman, looked him squarely in the face and smiled. “Of course,” she said in a flirtatious manner, “provided you bring me a cosmopolitan!”
Colin nodded and headed toward the bar. One of his colleagues was also attending the event and elbowed him. “Nice work with Lily Tam!”
“What are you talking about?” Colin was genuinely puzzled.
“I saw the two of you standing together, and now you’re getting her a drink. She is one hot-looking woman. Attaboy!”
Colin smiled and stammered a bit. “Oh, she was just standing in line behind me, and I offered to get her a drink if she held my place.”
“Yeah. Whatever it takes, bro. Good luck.”
Colin had been with one woman one time in college and had not been all that impressed with the experience. He was confounded that he had had no emotional response to the encounter whatsoever. Odd. Every once in a while, he would ask himself, What is wrong with me? This would happen from time to time, especially after he and some business associates would go out for drinks, and they would flirt with every woman in the bar.
When he returned to the line and handed Lily Tam her cosmopolitan, she tried to start a conversation with him. When that did not work, she decided to try the food from a different chef. By the time she left, there were only a few people ahead of him, and when Kick looked up from serving the next guest, their eyes locked. Something went through Colin like a lightning bolt, and it scared the crap out of him.
When it was his turn to reap the reward of waiting in line, he thought he would drop the plate. Kick looked up again and smiled. “Hope you like them. I’ve been working on this recipe for weeks!”
Colin could barely speak. “I’m not much of a lambchop guy, but the mob seems to be favoring your dish. I waited in line for twenty minutes! I mean, I’m not complaining. I’m impressed! At myself!” Colin finally gave a chortle. “I’m not a wait-in-line kind of guy either! These must be pretty special!”
Kick also seemed a little nervous, but he attributed it to the stress of the event and the contest. Even though there was no monetary prize, the exposure to Washington’s elite could raise his visibility. And perhaps that would lead to his getting some funding for his restaurant dream.
“Well, I hope you enjoy them!” Kick smiled as Colin took his first bite, juice running down the corner of his mouth.
“Oh my God! These are incredible! And boy am I a sloppy eater!” Colin went to grab a handful of napkins when Kick reached over and handed him one of his clean bar towels.
“You may need this. I have two more on the grill for you!” Kick flashed that winning smile again, making Colin very self-conscious.
“I don’t know if the people behind me would appreciate me glomming up your lamby-pops! We don’t want to incite a riot!” Colin took a quick look over his shoulder and noticed frowns and hurry-up gestures.
“Well, this is Washington, DC. Riots are a part of life!” Kick was easy with his humor. “Let me get through this mob and I’ll fix up some extra for you. Go have another drink. By the looks of it, I should be able to serve you seconds in about another fifteen minutes.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan, Chef . . .” Colin leaned in a little closer to check Kick’s name tag. “Chef Kick! You can tell me how you got that name when I come back. See you in a few.”
For the first time in his life, Colin was feeling an attraction to another human being, a handsome younger man, thin, about six feet tall, with receding light brown hair, a smallish nose, full mouth, and eyes the color of cornstalks in the middle of summer. And he was absolutely comfortable with it! He felt as if he had had an epiphany. Suddenly, it hit him. I found a total stranger—a man at that—attractive, and I got a vibe he was feeling the same way! What the hell do I do now? He took a deep breath, slowed his pace, and continued to think. You will go back to that handsome, talented man and wolf down those luscious lamb chops he’s preparing for you. That’s what you will do!
Having decided on a course of action, Colin marched himself to the bar and ordered a double martini. A big shot of courage. This was a whole new world for him, and he needed to steady his nerves. Funny thing . . . he never got nervous about big trades. But this? This was different.
Throwing back the martini, Colin regained his composure and strutted across the polished hardwood floor in the direction of Kick’s station. The crowd had thinned and he was bracing himself for . . . for what? Lamb chops, idiot, he told himself.
Trying not to act nervous or jumpy, Colin made his way to the front of the line again. “I wasn’t sure if second helpings were gauche.”
Kick looked up again from his grill. “Not with that suit.” Kick was admiring how impeccably dressed his new gourmand was. “Italian?”
Colin blushed a bit. “Is there any other? Oh, I don’t mean to sound like a snob, but the Italians know how to dress a man . . . and a woman! And the shoes! The leather!” Suddenly, Colin felt very much at ease. Someone who could cook like that and recognize an Italian-made suit could become a very good friend indeed!
Kick chuckled. “Not snobby at all! I admire a man who appreciates fine workmanship.”
“Well, I certainly appreciate yours! You have quite a knack for cooking!”
With the tension between them broken, each of them discovered that he had met a kindred spirit.
“I could try to impress you with other fabulous dishes . . . that is, if you are not otherwise involved. I mean, I don’t want to sound forward, but . . .”
Colin quickly interrupted. “No . . . I mean yes. ‘Yes’ to another dish, and ‘no’ to involved!”
“Splendid!” Kick was beginning to relax after all the stress of competing for the approval of the guests. The evening was finally winding down.
“Let me give you my card, and when you feel like whipping up something scrumptious, give me a call.” Colin reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a Ferragamo wallet, and handed his business card to Kick.
Kick wiped his hands on his bar towel and slightly grazed Colin’s hand as he reached for the card. “Investments?” Kick was curious. That’s exactly what he needed, but he didn’t want Colin to think he was only interested in his business venture.
“Yes. Investing is mostly math. I was a crackerjack at math in grammar school, and I started following the market and making mock stock trades as a hobby.”
“How do you start investments as a hobby?” Kick was becoming more curious.
“Long story. What do you say we discuss our personal histories over that fabulous dinner you’re going to prepare?”
“Sounds like a plan. How is your kitchen?” Kick queried. “If it’s okay with you, I can bring the supplies, or you can come over to my place and dig your way to the dining-room table. I have boxes of tools I still haven’t unpacked!”
“Actually, I have a state-of-the-art kitchen that hasn’t seen a frying pan since I moved in. Guess I’m not a chef like you. Mostly eat out or order in.”
“I hear that a lot. So, is there any particular night that’s good for you?”
Colin pulled out his pocket date minder and pointed to Thursday.
“Thursday it is! Time?”
“I guess that will depend on how much time you need to prepare dinner.” Colin smiled back.
“I like to plan about two hours. Prep. Observe. Cook. I do sip a glass of wine in between!”
“Any particular vintage?” Colin was getting very excited about this new friend and new experience.
“I’ll leave it to you. I usually suggest one red and one white—not necessarily only one bottle of each, but that will give me some flexibility in the menu.”
“Well, then, I’ll be sure to have plenty of both!” Colin took out his Montblanc pen, retrieved his card from Kick’s hand, and wrote his home address on the back. “Did we settle on a time?”
Kick laughed. “No, I was waiting for you to tell me when you would like
dinner served. I’ll work backward.”
“Eight o’clock?”
“At eight o’clock, dinner will be served. I shall arrive at six to begin preparations.”
“Fantastic! I’ll look forward to seeing you then! Good luck with the contest. I’m sure you’ll be the winner!”
As Colin had predicted, Kick took first place in the competition, and a story about him appeared in the Washington Post’s Arts and Entertainment section. For the first time in months, Kick began to feel as if the bumpy road of his life was about to smooth out a bit.
When Thursday rolled around, Kick was busy shopping at his favorite specialty stores, picking up fresh figs, kiwi, and pomegranate. Then off to the Cheese Cave for some luscious Humboldt Fog, a triple-cream Brie, and Manchego. That’s where dinner would start. He had already wowed Colin with his lamb lollipops, so he considered roasted halibut. No. Not everyone liked fish. Veal? Could be a PC issue. Chicken? Boring. Beef? Beef was always a safe bet. But did he want to be safe? Too bad he hadn’t thought about the braised short-rib recipe he had been working on sooner. Six hours of marinade and two and a half hours of cooking time. He glanced at his watch. If he hustled, he could prepare the short ribs at home and bring them over. They could sit in the gravy while he worked on the rest of the meal.
The cheese and fruit would be desert. Nothing too sweet after a big meal. They would start with a burrata and heirloom tomatoes in a lightly drizzled pesto, followed by a roasted beet and pistachio salad in a citrus dressing, then the short ribs served over mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. Was that going over the top? Maybe, but Kick was psyched.
After running to the butcher, he hightailed it back to his own kitchen and began the marinade for the short ribs. It was only eleven in the morning so he still had time—even if he had to finish cooking the ribs at Colin’s, it wouldn’t be a problem.
Deep Harbor Page 5
