“Oh, I’ve got a very good reason to be late, trust me,” he says, conspiratorially. “Thanks for meeting me last minute.” He looks up and gestures for the waiter to come over.
“What can I get started for you two?”
I grab the menu in front of me and say, “Are you still serving the carnitas hash?”
“We are.”
“I’ll have that then, please. And a lemonade.”
“And for you?” the waiter asks Tony through a dazzling smile.
I look up to find Tony smiling back at him.
“What do you recommend?”
I watch the waiter lean a little toward Tony, his eyes almost alight with mischief.
“Something sweet?”
“No,” Tony says, looking at me for a second and making me feel like a third wheel before turning back. “I’m trying to stay fit these days.”
“You look like you’re in amazing shape to me,” the waiter says, and I almost drop my jaw at the way he doesn’t hide the fact that he’s looking Tony up and down like he’s the one who’s hungry. “I think you could have whatever you want.”
Tony laughs and sits back.
“I’ll have the same as her, then. But I’ll definitely be back sometime for the sweet stuff.”
I stare at Tony with a smirk as the waiter leaves and he finally peels his eyes away to look back at me.
“What?” he says.
“Nothing,” I say, laughing. “Just wondering how long it’ll take before he gives you his number.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Tony smiles. “You look great, by the way.”
“Are you flirting with me now, too?”
“I mean it. You’re looking good—especially for a girl who’s been working her ass off in a Cole Chambers kitchen.” He pauses a moment to study me like a connoisseur. “I don’t know what it is…you’ve got some glow about you today…you look a little more relaxed…” His eyes narrow. “Wait—did you go out last night? Oh, you did. You definitely did. You hooked up with some mega hottie last night, didn’t you?”
“What?” I say. “No.”
But the way I drop my head and the slight rush of heat to my cheeks isn’t going to pass unnoticed.
“Yes you did!” Tony exclaims. “And you went all the way, I can tell. Good girl! Finally! Who was it?”
“Nobody. I mean…I can’t say.” I can’t meet his eyes, knowing one look will betray everything. But my silence is incriminating enough to blow my cover anyway.
“You fucked Cole Chambers?” Tony hisses, in disbelief.
I sit upright and glare at him like a figure in a haunted house.
“How the fuck do you do that?”
“Oh please,” Tony says, leaning back in his chair. “He’s the one guy you would try to keep a secret. Not like you’re gonna give me the ‘I can’t say’ if you screwed the dish washer—not after I told you about that time I did. So how did it happen? You’d better tell me, or I’m gonna run through every scenario I’m imagining in my head in glorious detail until you crack.”
“Ok, ok,” I say, defeated. “Calm down, Sex-Columbo. To tell you the truth, it just kinda…happened. We had a drink together and then somehow—”
“Hold up: You went on a date with him?”
“No. It wasn’t a date. We just hadn’t talked yet, he wasn’t there when they hired me.”
Tony smirks, obviously skeptical of my explanation, which sounds weak even to me. “You said there was alcohol during this event, and was it at night, I’m guessing?”
“Is that some kind of L.A. thing nobody told me about? Look, it wasn’t a date. Not exactly, anyway. We had a drink, some food, then went back to Knife so I could show him some recipe and…somehow we ended up screwing each other senseless.”
Tony’s eyes widen.
“In the kitchen? God, Willow. Isn’t that a Department of Health situation? I don’t know if I wanna eat there now that I know that.”
“No! He pulled me into the back office, and then we got on the desk and—look, forget that, the point is that I just fucked my boss, and I’m a little bit concerned I might have fucked my job too.”
Despite the exasperation in my voice, Tony smiles and shrugs nonchalantly.
“Well, good thing you won’t be working there much longer.”
For about the fifth time I stare at him in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
Tony pauses as the food is laid out in front of us, affording the waiter just a mischievous wink this time.
“Wanna know why I was late to meet you?” he asks, leaning forward. I nod. “I was on a call with a potential investor.”
“Investor? For what?”
Now it’s Tony’s turn to look at me sideways.
“Have you seriously forgotten?” he says, sounding offended. “Our restaurant. Your rustic, Idaho’an…ingredients thing, and my astonishingly good taste and presentation coming together in a single place that’ll blow this fucking town apart. It’s the whole reason you moved down here, remember? To start over and take back your dreams?”
“Oh…oh yeah…” I say, still taken aback. “I remember, but I mean, I thought we were just talking. Fantasizing. Laying out what we would love to do, at some future point in time. I didn’t think you—we—were actually going to go for it. Not right away, at least…”
“Spud,” Tony says, using my Guillhaume-inspired pet name the way only an old friend could. “I might love L.A. but I’m not from L.A. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it. Now are you in or not?”
“Of course I’m in,” I say. “It’s still my dream. I’m just…anxious, you know? This is kinda quick. It’s not that long since my last place failed. And I’m working now—”
“And fucking Cole Chambers now. Whatever. Anxious is fine. So long as you can still cook a mean beans, that’s all we need. Now I’m arranging a meeting with these investors and you’re gonna come too. I think they’re the real deal and we need both of us there to show how serious we are. Are you with me?”
“Hell yes.” I don’t hesitate, feeling once again like a girl from Idaho in a city where nobody seems to stop for breath.
“Hell yes. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Tony grins as we dig into our food.
I get to Knife at around two—hours before it’ll open for the evening shift, but it’s Tuesday, the one day each week the chefs sit down to eat together before work. It’s a chance to talk shop and air any problems that might be brewing, though it’s mostly a chance to share a meal with the people you’re too busy working beside to spend any time with. This is only the second one I’m going to, but it already feels like I know the place better than my own.
At least I won’t have to face Cole. I’m not quite sure how things are gonna go when we next bump into each other. I’m thinking I might go for a ‘what we did in the office that one time was cool, but we should get back to reality’ kind of vibe, though I’m worried it’ll turn into a ‘what the hell was that all about, and when are we doing it again?’ sort of thing. Because the truth is that—even though it’s complicated, and messy, and there are a dozen obvious reasons I shouldn’t—I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.
I know Cole’s a player, but maybe what I need, after all this time moping over my asshole ex and my failed restaurant, is to play around a little. Cole’s definitely not going to get serious on me, and I’m too focused on work to get serious on him, so why not? Sure, there’s a little voice in my head telling me it’s a bad idea that could be dangerous—but I have to struggle to hear it over the loud tingles my body gets when I remember how good he was, the way he commanded me to come for him…
I snap back to the urgency of the present moment, step through the propped-open exit door and hurry through the kitchen, checking my watch to see how late I am.