Annoyed, I held my phone out of reach. “Who are you, my mommy? I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I’m not answering it.”
“Attaboy. Let that freeloader know you don’t need him anymore.”
I never did. Maybe I used him as much as he used me. I wanted someone to hold at night, to make me feel wanted. Pete said all the right words, but in the end, as always, it was about what I could do for him. There was never an us.
The buzzing stopped, then started again. This time, I saw it was Edward Harvey fromUltimate NYCand snatched the phone off the table. “Edward, how are you?”
“I’m good. Better than good. I want to thank you, Salvatore, for opening my eyes to a different perspective. Our subscriptions have increased exponentially since we began implementing your suggestions of restaurants in the outer boroughs.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m glad you’re seeing the benefit.”Shit.Mike still had no idea I’d done this, but why would he get angry? It wasn’t only his restaurant; there were more than a dozen listed.
“Of course, not everyone is on board. I had to do a bit of persuading.”
“I can imagine,” I muttered. “I’ve read some recent reviews that were pretty scathing.”
Martinelli had ripped into a Greek diner, claiming it almost sent him to the hospital, and his review of a chicken place had me alternating between cringing and laughing. He’d been served chicken so undercooked, he’d expected it to peck at him when he cut into it.
“Well, Francisco’s never been known for mincing words. But he has the background and training to prove his credentials, so I can’t discount what he says. He loved that Italian place.”
From beneath lowered lids, I shot a quick glance at Mike, who was texting someone. “I was surprised, to be honest. I didn’t expect that level of praise.”
“The man is arrogant, I’ll be the first to admit, but his palate is superb, and he doesn’t lie. If he likes something, he likes it. Maybe his manner is a bit too blunt for some, and he could stand to take some classes in delivering bad news in a softer way, but he is who he is and makes no apologies for it. As a matter of fact”—here Edward stopped and chuckled warmly—“I had him in my office the other day, and he admitted he might’ve been wrong to concentrate solely on Manhattan. So I’m expanding his territory to include Brooklyn as a permanent addition to his list.”
My finger traced the top of the cup. Martinelli was a total bastard, and I knew there were many places he could hurt with a cut of his sharp tongue. Maybe I had bitten off more than I should’ve. One good review for Mangia didn’t change my opinion of the obnoxious man.
“I think as long as he’s fair, it should be okay. Reviews shouldn’t be a personal attack.”
“I’d like to talk more in depth about that and other things with you. Do you have some time to come to my office, say tomorrow afternoon around four?”
“Me, come to you?” A meeting with Edward Harvey was considered a crowning achievement in the publishing industry, and yet here I was, a virtual no-name, sitting in a coffee shop in the middle of nowhere, and he’d reached out to me. “Are you serious?” I blurted out and mentally kicked myself for sounding like a babbling idiot.
“Should I not be?”
I straightened in my seat. “No. Of course not. I’m happy to come to your office. I can be there at four. No problem.” What the fuck was I going to wear? I had nothing but a five-year-old sports jacket.
“Good. I’ll order us in some tea.”
Good thing my eyes were attached to my head, or they would’ve popped out of their sockets. “Tea, sure. Sounds great.” As if tea with one of the most influential food people in the country was my norm. By this time Mike had finished texting, and he cocked his head, obviously confused as to why I was acting like I’d won the lottery. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you then.”
I set the phone on the table and stared at it.
“Torre, what the hell is going on? You’re shaking.”
“That was Edward Harvey.Ultimate NYC’s senior food editor.”
Now it was Mike’s turn to gape. “He called you? What did he want?”
“He wants me to come to his office for a meeting tomorrow.Me.” My head spun.
“No shit. What for?”
“Not a clue.” I ran my shaky hands through my hair. “I gotta find a suit. I don’t have anything to wear.”
I was taller and about fifteen pounds heavier than Mike, so borrowing anything of his, if he even had what I needed, was out of the question.
“I have to go shopping.”
