I lifted my chinstubbornly. “Because then I could have prepared.”
“By getting inshape in less than twelve hours?”
“By running away toMexico where you couldn’t find me.”
She rolled hereyes, grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the locker room. “Come on, lazybones. I’ll buy you breakfast off the dollar menu to make up for it.”
Vera’s promise ofMcDonald’s was the extra burst of energy I needed to survive the walk to the showers.I stood under the hot stream for longer thanI should have, and still my motor skills were jerky at best when I emerged andtried valiantly to get dressed. Thank goodness the workout we’d survived wasall legs because my makeup could have ended in disaster if my arms were astired as my trembling thighs.
“Did you even go tosleep last night?” I asked Vera as she leaned forward with an open mouth toapply her mascara.
She moved the wandaway from her face so she could yawn. “For a couple hours. I thought opening afood truck was a lot of work. It’s nothing compared to the restaurant.”
“Have you andKillian decided on a name yet?”
She snorted. “Nope.Right now, we’re bouncing betweenVerian, which is ourtwo names squished together, and The Blue Table, which has no significancewhatsoever, but it sounds cool.”
“I like both ofthem,” I told her. “Verianis clever.”
“Cheesy,” shecorrected. “It’s super cheesy. But I don’t mind the sound of it.”
I smiled at myreflection while I applied lip stain. “You know what you should name it,right?”
Turning her head,she looked at me. “What’s that?”
“Salt,” I told her,referring to one of Killian’s very first interactions with her cooking. “Justcall it Salt.” Expecting her to laugh with me, I was surprised when she didn’t.“I’m just kidding,” I added quickly.
She slammed herpalm against my shoulder like she was high-fiving my clavicle. My poor, abusedlegs wobbled, but miraculously didn’t give out. “Molly, you’re a freakinggenius!”
“Huh?”
“Salt. It’sbrilliant. Fucking brilliant! I can’t believe we didn’t think of it sooner.”
“Are you serious?”
Her head bobbedwildly.“So serious.It’s simple and memorable and someaningful to us. It’s seriously the best name I’ve ever heard.”
My lips lifted in aproud smile. Having worked in marketing for so long, I knew she was right. Saltsounded cool. It broadcasted like the trendy new restaurant taking the city bystorm that it was. Of course, with Killian and Vera at the helm, that wasalways the restaurant’s destiny, but a stellar name would give it that extrasomething special that would keep people talking about it.
She had alreadypulled out her phone and called Killian before I could say another word. “He’sprobably sleeping,” she muttered distractedly.
It was onlyseven-thirty in the morning. Which for them was practically the middle of thenight. Killian and Vera were basically nocturnal. They started work when mostof us got off, and stayed well into the early morning hours to clean up andshut down.
Currently, theywere working to open a gorgeous new space where they would cook side by side, leadingthe city to new heights of culinary genius. For now, before they officiallyopened, their lives had somewhat balanced out. But understandably, after somany years working in busy kitchens night after night, neither one of themcould really give up the late-night life.
“Salt!” Verapractically shouted into the phone as soon as she heard Killian’s sleep-roughenedvoice.
I heard him gruntout a confused, “Wha?”
“Salt,” shesquealed. “For the restaurant. Let’s call it Salt!”
The next time hespoke, his voice sounded much more alert. Vera began prattling off how it wasmy idea, but also how it was perfect. She moved to the side of the locker roomfor some privacy. And some space. She always used her hands to talk. When shewas this excited she was bound to give someone a black eye if she wasn’tcareful.
I finished mymakeup and gave my bangs a little extra TLC. I’d pulled the rest of my longhair into a bun at the nape of my neck, hoping to look professional for myfirst day on the Black Soul project. I’d also gone with the exact outfit I’ddescribed to Ezra in my email last night.
My plum pencilskirt hit just below my knees and molded to my body over thighs and a butt thatstill burned. I’d paired it with a gray long-sleeve, ruffled blouse and matchinggray pumps. And because it was winter and cold outside, I’d even worn pantyhose.The kind with the seam running up the back of the leg because,obviously, I needed extra incentive to get myself into pantyhose.
I added some jewelry,and checked the lines of my tucked in shirt making sure the frills lay nicelyand hadn’t been waywardly placed. Staring at myself in the locker room mirrorunder terrible lighting and with not enough sleep, I wondered what was missing.Because something wasn’t totally right.
