“Yeah, I remember. Webster wanted me to corrupt my reviewing process. I guess it didn’t matter if I almost had food poisoning from bad diner food. Did anyone even care I got indigestion so bad, I thought I was having a heart attack? That was from a still-unnamed type of dumpling at some hole-in-the-wall, takeout place the neighborhood voted as best dim sum on Staten Island.” I swallowed the rest of the wine. “I knew nothing good would come from my going to that godforsaken borough.”
A troubled look settled over Edward’s face. “When Webster read your review of the steakhouse in Queens and Grant’s column on how your reviews continued in the same unnecessarily cruel vein, he’d had enough.”
Despite my anger, I felt sorry for Edward. “It’s not your fault. You were placed in an untenable position.” My eyes narrowed as I thought about it. “It’s that goddamned Grant. That know-nothing blogger who thinks he knows everything. He thinks I’m a snob.”
At this, Edward’s expression cleared, and he even gave me a smile. “Well, let’s be honest now. You are.”
“So what? If it’s snobbery that I like to eat in a beautiful atmosphere and enjoy well-prepared meals, then call me a snob.”
“I think I just did.”
Ignoring his humor, I railed on. “I tried. I really did. And some restaurants were worthy. There was that fish restaurant in Long Island City. No atmosphere but well-prepared mains. The little chicken place somewhere in the Bronx. And my favorite was that Italian place in Brooklyn.” That came with my favorite hot Italian man, Torre, but Edward didn’t need to know that. “Still, the bad far outweighed the good. Should I have lied? Held back?” Picking up steam, I clenched my hands into fists at the injustice. “So because one little sanctimonious prick thinks I’m a big, bad reviewer from Manhattan who doesn’t play nice in the sandbox, I lose a job you know I’ve been damn good at for over ten years?” I curled my lip in disgust over the shadiness of it all. “Fuck that.”
“Webster—” Edward began.
“Is a lying, cheating bastard.”
“You know I’m not doing this because I want to.” His gaze dropped to the table. “He threatened my job as well.”
Shocked, I sucked in a breath. “He didn’t. That fucker.”
Agonized eyes met mine. “And I should have bigger balls and throw the job back in his face. But I’m a coward. I’m three years from retirement, and—”
“Don’t.” I glared at him. “Don’t you dare justify why you’re staying. Not to me. You’ve given your life to that place and deserve everything you can get from them.”
At the sign of the waiter’s approach with our starters, I ended the conversation until he left us once again. The delicate, lemony aroma of the sauce used on the scallops teased me. I picked up my fork.
“I’ll be fine. I’m not hurting for money, and if I want, I can go to another magazine and offer my services.” At Edward’s pained face, a jolt of awareness hit me. I’d never had anyone care for me like he did. “Edward, it’ll be okay. Really. Maybe I’ll give myself a chance to do what I’ve really always loved.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“I’m not sure yet. But when I am, we’ll talk.”
Confused, Edward started on his octopus, and we ate for a few minutes.
“This dinner is on the magazine, right?” At Edward’s nod, I gestured to the sommelier. “Well, then, fuck Webster.”
“Yes, sir? What may I get for you?”
“A bottle of Krug, Grande Cuvée, please. And let’s have an order of Royal Ossetra Caviar when you bring that.”
His eyes widened at the extravagance, and I laughed to myself as he hurried off. At two hundred and twenty dollars an ounce, a customer ordering that caviar wasn’t an everyday occurrence, even at an opulent restaurant such as this.
Edward merely shook his head, and after the champagne arrived, was uncorked and poured, I raised my glass.
“Go big or go home, I always say. So long,Ultimate. You and your little lackey, Salvatore Grant, will regret losing me.”
“I don’t want to lose you, though. Promise me you’ll stay in touch?”
“I will.”
“Tomorrow you’ll need to come into the office to clean out your desk and hand in your phone, credit cards, and ID.”
I sipped the delicious champagne, letting the bubbles dance on my tongue. “I’ll mail it all in.”
“No, you can’t. You need to fill out some paperwork. Please, Francisco? Don’t make it harder than it already is.”
And because I respected Edward, I relented. “Fine. I’ll be by around ten.”
