by L. P. Dover
When we arrive at her table, she doesn’t take her own but watches me with rapt attention to see what my response is going to be. I keep my face neutral. I don’t want things going to her head. Everything I’ve tasted from her kitchen has been perfect.
“Well?”
“Well what?” I ask as we go to the next station.
She pushes my shoulder and groans. “What did you think?”
I shrug. “It’s good.”
“Just good?”
I nod and avoid eye contact with her knowing that if I look at her, I’ll crack.
“You’re unbelievable.” Only she doesn’t mean it because she’s laughing.
We finally come to the end, just as an emcee steps onto the stage. People gather around, mostly restaurant owners or their chefs to hear the news.
“How is everyone loving a Taste of Chicago this year?”
People clap.
“And how about this pulled pork contest. I don’t know about you, but I am full.” The emcee rubs her belly and laughs. “So, as you know we invited the elusive foodie, August Cahill, to judge our pulled pork contest, and as you know, he accepted. If you remember correctly, when you paid your table fee, we had you sign a form, telling you that no photography will be allowed. This is part of the agreement we made with August and we request that you comply when he comes on stage to announce the winner.”
Maddy looks around, watching for August. Her hands wring together in nervousness.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, showing her my phone and setting it to my ear. I walk through the opening between the stage and last table, turn around toward the steps that lead to the stage and take a deep breath.
“Let’s all welcome, August Cahill,” the emcee yells.
Each step I take makes it feel like a knife is twisting in my heart. As soon as I’m on stage, my eyes lock with Maddy’s. She looks confused but I can’t let that bother me, not right now.
“August, we’re so happy to have you this year.”
“Thanks, I’m happy to be here,” I say into the microphone.
“Fuck you, dude,” I hear someone yell. Yep, that’s my life.
I look for Maddy, but she’s not where I left her.
“And who is our winner?”
“Um…” I say as I scan the crowd, looking for Madeline. “It’s Potter’s.” As soon as I announce the winner, I bolt off stage and reenter the crowd heading to Maddy’s table. When I get there, she’s not there.
“Where did Maddy go?” I ask them, but they ignore me.
“You should leave,” her sous chef says. “And don’t come back.”
I don’t pay them any mind and pull my phone out of my pocket and dial her number. Right to voicemail. “Maddy, please let me explain,” I say into the receiver. I hang up and send the same text, hoping she will at least give me a chance to defend myself.
Another night, another restaurant.
It’s rare that I’ll venture into a restaurant that hasn’t been open for longer than two years. I feel that after my own predetermined time, restaurants have worked their kinks out and are functioning at their best.
I made an exception when I visited Maddy’s Tavern. I had heard good things about this establishment and wanted to check it out for myself even though its barely over a year old.
I was greeted with professionalism as soon as I walked in and shown to my seat. My young waiter introduced himself and told me the day’s specials, from memory which is very impressive. He also told me he was studying to be a bartender and brought me an array of drinks he felt would go well with my dessert.
As I waited, I noticed how impeccable the restaurant was. Everything had a place. The tables weren’t crowded with unnecessary items. Each chair was pushed in. The staff all dressed as if they were working at the Plaza.
I had the special, which if offered again, you should order; the balsamic pork chop with the orange creamsicle cake for dessert. My reservation was late, and I fully expected a dry piece of pork. To say I was surprised by the tender juicy meat would be an understatement.
Now comes the time when I must give Maddy’s Tavern my grades.
Ambience – A+
Staff – A+
Food – A+
When you go in, and I know you will, be sure to tell chef and owner Madeline Metcalf that August Cahill highly recommends her place. You won’t be sorry.
Signing off for now,
AC
Seven
Madeline
I was sick with nerves before the pulled pork contest, but right now, I’m literally sick with anger. How could Adam do this? Adam is August. August is Adam. Why would he keep that secret from me? I feel like such an idiot.
My phone rings incessantly, but I can’t go back to my booth. The only place to go is home. I call Katy and she picks up on the first ring.
“Oh my God, Maddy, are you okay?”
Tears stream down my face. “No. I don’t know what’s going on. I think I’m in shock. Did I really just see Adam go on stage as August Cahill?”
I can feel the weight of her sigh through the phone. “You did. It was a shock to us all. When he came back to our booth, Noah made him leave. I’m sure he’s out trying to find you.”
So many people are staring at me as I rush past them. “Will you be okay if I don’t come back there? I don’t want to see him.”
“Maddy, it’s okay. Go home. The others and I will be there as soon as we can. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“Thanks, Katy.” I hang up and bolt out onto the street and as far away from the event as I can get. The restaurant is only a few blocks away. My phone rings again and again, over and over. Every time I see Adam’s name pop up, it makes me cry even more.
When I get home, I breathe a sigh of relief. Adam isn’t here. Luckily, I had a head start. I lock the restaurant doors and rush upstairs to my apartment. As soon as I walk inside, I can smell his cologne. Memories of last night flood through my mind. I don’t know what to think anymore. I love him, but I’m starting to think I don’t even know who he is.
My phone rings again and I shut it off. The second I sit on my couch, I close my eyes. My body feels like lead, too heavy to move. More tears come and I don’t even bother to wipe them away. The silence is deafening, at least, until a loud knock sounds on the door. I open my eyes and it’s dark outside. When I look at the clock, five hours have passed by.
“Maddy, it’s me. Open up,” Katy calls. My eyes feel like sandpaper. I open the door and her mouth gapes, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Yes, I know,” I grumble, “I look like shit. I can’t believe I passed out for five hours.”
Katy laughs, but there’s no humor in it. She knows I’m upset. “You look fine.”
I glare back at her. “Liar.”
She holds up her hands. “Okay, you look like hell. It’s understandable.”
I flop back down on the couch. “Are Noah and Camryn downstairs?”
Katy shakes her head. “Not anymore. We got everything ready for tomorrow. We didn’t want to bother you.”
Groaning, I run a hand over my face. “Katy, I’m so sorry. You know I would’ve helped you. I just wish I wasn’t a complete mess right now.”
She drapes an arm over my shoulder. “It’s okay. You got a really crazy surprise today. Who would’ve thought that Adam was August Cahill? Talk about a truth bomb.”
I scoff. “In front of thousands of people too. I feel like such an idiot. I went on and on about how nervous I was about August, and Adam didn’t say a damn word about it. He let me keep stressing.”
Katy frowns and half-heartedly shrugs. “Maybe he had a reason for not telling you?”
“No,” I snap. “He knows I love him. People who love each other don’t keep those kinds of secrets from one another. It’s as if I don’t even know him.”
“So you love him, huh? I never thought I’d see the day.”
Bringing my knees up, I wrap my arms around them and
lower my head. “Me too. And just when I let my guard down, I get hurt. Just my luck.”
“Maddy!” My heart stops and I freeze. “Maddy!”
I look over at Katy and she’s just as shocked as I am. “Did you hear that?”
She nods quickly and rushes over to the window, discreetly peeking out the side of the curtain. “Holy shit, it’s him. He’s on the sidewalk.”
I grab her shirt and pull her back. “Don’t let him see you.” We both drop to the floor, our backs to the wall. My heart is pounding so hard, I can feel it throbbing in my throat. “What do I do?”
Katy looks over at me. “What do you want to do?”
“Maddy, please!” Adam yells, his voice distraught. “I need to talk to you.”
It breaks my heart to hear him, but I can’t give in. I’m not ready.
“Maddy! I love you! Please, let me talk to you.”
Grabbing my chest, I close my eyes and cry. “I never should’ve fallen in love with him … again. He’ll leave just like he did all those years ago.”
“He doesn’t sound like a man who wants to leave,” Katy says softly.
“Should I go out there?”
She shrugs. “It’s up to you. If you love the guy, you might want to hear him out. I’d hate for you to let things end because of a misunderstanding.”
Taking a deep breath, I stand and wipe my face off with the hem of my shirt. “Is he still out there?” When she peeks out, her face falls. She looks around, but I already know the answer. He’s gone. “Guess he gave up,” I say. “Figures.”
Katy joins me back on the couch and takes my hands. “Take a shower and get some rest. He’ll show up at our booth tomorrow. I have no doubt.”
A part of me wants him to, but there’s a nagging feeling in my stomach that warns me not to get my hopes up. Guess we’ll find out.
FOUR DAYS LATER
The Taste of Chicago is over, and Adam never showed back up. Four days have passed and nothing. I knew he was too good to be true. He left before, and I knew he’d do it again. The only thing positive in my life is the tavern. Instead of being booked just one night in advance, there are people calling for tables two weeks out. The Taste of Chicago really put us on the map. People from everywhere, even out of state are calling just to get in to try our food.
“I’m so glad you added the pork chops to the main menu,” Noah says as he plates up his millionth one for the night.
Laughing, I mix up another batch of the balsamic glaze for the pork chops. “Me too. Everyone and I mean everyone is ordering them tonight. I’m going to have to put in a double order next time, so we don’t run out.”
Camryn places the finishing touches on her orange creamsicle cake. “You might have to hire more staff if this keeps up.”
Noah agrees with a nod. “True. I don’t think we’ll be able to handle this every day of the week.”
They have a point. Not unless we want to run ourselves ragged. “Okay,” I give in. “I’ll hire more people.”
Noah smiles. “You shouldn’t have any trouble. People will be dying to work here. Especially chefs.”
The kitchen door opens and Katy walks in with a big smile on her face. She nods toward the dining room. “Tables four, five, and six are almost finished up. I know you like to make your rounds.” I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s been by my side nonstop the past four days, trying to cheer me up. I had to make her go home yesterday. Her poor fiancé missed her.
I wash my hands and hand Noah the large bowl of balsamic glaze. “Thanks, Katy. I’ll be right out.”
Once in the dining room, I start first with table four which happens to be a middle-aged couple, drinking their coffee. When I walk over, the lady smiles at me and I smile back. “Good evening. Did you two enjoy your dinner?”
The lady gasps and holds her chest. “Are you the owner?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She reaches out and grabs my wrist. “Oh, honey, your pork chops were out of this world. When we read the reviews, we had to try them. We will definitely be coming back.”
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”
She lets me go and winks. “That August Cahill really knows his stuff. He wrote to say that he highly recommends your place.”
My stomach drops, but I keep a smile on my face. What review is she talking about? “I’m glad,” I reply. “He’s a tough critic.”
The lady nods. “Exactly. He hasn’t let us down yet.”
I wish I could say the same about me. I wish them a goodnight and head over to table five. This time, it’s a family of four. A man, a woman, and two teenage girls.
“Hello. Did you all enjoy your evening?” I ask them.
One of the girls is still eating her orange creamsicle cake and she gives me a thumbs up. “I could eat this every day,” she gushes.
I laugh. “So could I.” My thoughts stray to Adam, but I push them out. I can’t be thinking about him right now. What I really want to see is his damn review. “Was everything else good?” I ask.
The father pats his stomach. “Very satisfying. I used to think my dad made the best pork chops in the world, but I was wrong. You have him beat.”
“Oh goodness. Don’t tell him that or he’ll hate me.”
He waves me off. “He’ll hate me if I don’t tell him to come here.”
This makes me feel good, but I can’t help but wonder. “How did you hear about us?” I question curiously. “Do you live in the Chicago area?”
The girl eating her cake lifts her hand in the air. “We live in Downers Grove.”
The mother giggles and looks up at me. “We’re always looking for good restaurants. When I saw that August Cahill highly recommended this place, we had to check it out. I hear you’re booking two weeks out right now.”
Oh, dear God. She saw his review too. I plaster on a smile. “Yes, ma’am. We’re really fortunate right now. Looks like I owe it all to Mr. Cahill.”
She shakes her head. “I doubt that. You have a wonderful place here. I’m sure you did most of it on your own.”
“Thank you.”
Heart racing, I move to table six and it’s the same thing. They mention August Cahill’s review and that’s why they’re here. Once I’m done talking to everyone, I hurry to the kitchen. Camryn notices my wide eyes and grabs her chest. “No one died, did they?”
“We need to boot up the laptop now,” I say quickly. I run over to my little corner which serves as my office. I have a small desk and on top is my laptop, resting beside numerous notebooks with all my recipes.
Camryn rushes to my side. “What are you looking for?”
I open my computer and turn it on. “August Cahill’s review. Apparently, everyone in the place is here because of it. I want to see what he said.”
“What the hell,” Noah calls out. “I haven’t heard a word about it. It must’ve just posted yesterday or something.” He comes over to us and we all stare at the screen. I type in August Cahill’s name and his blog pops up. When I click on it, the review for Maddy’s Tavern is right there on the first page.
Camryn squeezes my shoulders. “He gave us A+’s on everything. He never does that.”
I want to be happy and scream with joy, but I can’t. My business is booming and it’s all because of his review. Was it the truth? Did he give us the good report because he actually liked the food? I want to be the best restaurant in Chicago, but I don’t want it that way. He can keep his A+’s.
Eight
Adam
Dear August, Adam or whatever your name may be,
Please remove the review you posted about Maddy’s Tavern. It’s a lame attempt to get back into my good graces and it won’t work.
Sincerely,
Madeline Metcalf
Owner & Head Chef
Maddy’s Tavern
Dear Ms. Metcalf,
I’m very surprised to find a request to remove a glowing review from Mr. Cahill’s website. Normally, as yo
u can imagine, he receives requests to remove the negative ones. As is his policy, all reviews stand and will stay on the website.
If you should need anything else from Mr. Cahill, I’ll gladly assist you.
Yours truly,
Brenda
Executive Assistant to August Cahill
Dear Brenda,
Is this another name for Adam? How many other names does he have? I think the public should know!
Not yours truly,
Madeline Metcalf
Owner & Head Chef
Maddy’s Tavern
Dear Ms. Metcalf,
I assure you August meant no harm in posting the glowing review of your restaurant.
Yours truly,
Brenda
Executive Assistant to August Cahill
Dear Brenda,
Your reply doesn’t even make sense. Can’t Adam check his own email? The review is biased and a way to make amends for his epic douchiness and I don’t want it.
Madeline
“Wow, Adam, this time she just signed it with her name and left out her title. What the hell did you do to this woman?” Brenda mocks me from the other side of my desk. She’s sat there for over twenty minutes reading email after email from Maddy. I had a feeling Maddy would respond this way to the review, especially after she figured out I was actually the food critic she feared the most, but I had no idea she would want us to take it down. I know for a fact, her business is booming. It’s been all over the news, the sudden infatuation with Maddy’s Tavern has foodies across the country clamoring to get a reservation. I should know, I’ve tried a few times. The tavern is now four to five weeks out for a booking.
I glance at Brenda with her eyebrow raised, waiting for my response. How do I tell her that I’ve slept with Maddy, multiple times, and if I had come clean on the first night in the tavern, I wouldn’t be sitting at my desk right now? I’d be in Chicago, romancing the hell out of Maddy.
