“We’re done.” The stylist, whose name I couldn’t remember, stepped back and brandished a mirror so I could see what the back of my head looked like. Somehow, I managed to make the requisite noises and said enough ‘wows’ and ‘that’s amazings’ to make her smile. Then I headed off to a little boutique, wanting, for some reason, something new to wear just to see if it could pull me out of the mood I’d sunk in to.
* * *
Suspicious looks mademe find the nearest mirror to make sure my dress wasn’t tucked into my panties. It wasn’t, so I wasn’t entirely sure why Royal and Pavel had frowned like they had. I did look a little bit different to normal, although I would usually put some effort into a night that would could lead to promotion on social media and involve clients who had an influence.
“Did we have enough trout delivered?” I stuck my head into the prep area. Jack looked to be gutting fish, making it look pretty much effortless. I itched to dump the ridiculously expensive dress I’d bought and get stuck in.
“I phoned McKay’s and had them drop another twenty kilograms off, hence I’m still prepping.” He glanced up, not giving me any reaction unlike the other two.
“Want some help?” I dug in my pockets for a hair tie.
“No. Everything is taken care of. I do want to speak to you tomorrow about Toad Hall.”
I ignored his comments and tried not to keep watching the tattooed forearms that made his prep look like a solo in a ballet, just with knives instead.
“You’ve got everything done with ninety minutes to spare?” This was pretty damn good. The afternoon had been busy, with no on-the-day reservations being taken.
“Everyone was on time for their shift and things worked out. Doesn’t mean that shit won’t go wrong later.” He looked up at me and grinned. “Don’t want to freak you out Simone, but I believe that Jimmy Gazely is a guest tonight.”
Jimmy was another food critic, but he was one I respected. He’d given me my first review when I’d opened Blue and it had always felt as if he’d kind of looked out for me, in a weird, critical friend kind of way.
“Jimmy’s okay. If he’s here as a guest he won’t be intending on reviewing, unless something goes disastrously wrong. Which it won’t. Do you think you ordered too much trout?” It looked as if Jack had remortgaged the restaurant given the amount of fish I could see.
“We have a ton of seafood too. Long story but you got a bargain. I was going to put a fish pie on the specials for tomorrow. Given how quick we’ve prepped for tonight I can probably get a few portions done now.”
My back stiffened. I’d just about managed to take half a step back from making every decision as to what went on the menu at Blue. Guy, the head chef there, had been with me since it had opened, with his husband the restaurant manager. I planned the seasonal menus but left it to Guy to decide on the specials most of the time.
Here was different. We’d been open more than two years, but the chefs hadn’t been as reliable as Guy had, until Jack at least. For six months he hadn’t let me down. There had been times I hadn’t been able to get hold of him, but that was within his rights – he’d been off duty and he was a stickler for keeping to his shifts, needing notice to change. I supposed this was because of his daughter. Lauren. I had spent some of the previous evening wondering what she was like, whether she looked like him or more like her mother. I’d spent too much time thinking about her mother and whether her and Jack were still together, though I doubted it. He wouldn’t have played the part of my boyfriend so well if he was with someone, I was pretty sure of that. And Jack didn’t strike me as a cheater.
“Do you think fish pie will suit the menu?” We were a fine dining restaurant and I wasn’t sure how it would fit.
Jack looked up and gave me a smile where only one half of his mouth rose. I’d seen it a lot lately and figured it was the grin he gave when he was amused with something I’d said or done.
“It will how I do it. Trust me?”
I froze. It hadn’t been an instruction. Instead, it was a request, as if he was testing the temperature of the water between us.
I recalled the piranhas.
“It will work with the beef and pork belly?” I wanted to trust him, but trust was something that was as rare a super wolf blood moon.
“I promise you, it will work with them on the tasting menu and on the a la carte. And if you don’t love it, we’ll file it in the never-to-be-tried-again folder.” He picked up another piece of trout, already filleted, and started to divvy it up into smaller chunks.
“Okay.” It felt strange to be passing control to someone else, even for something this small.
He nodded, his smile becoming almost a smirk.
“You don’t need to look like you’ve won a major battle.” A dart of irritation shot up my spine.
He put the knife down. “I’m just pleased you trust me enough to show you what I can do. And to help you out.”
Words stuck in my mouth like bad gum. Accepting help was not my forte. Neither was trusting people. I’d learned the hard way. These restaurants were likely the only children I’d have and I didn’t want to leave them in the care of anyone, not without several years of observation. But Jack had been steady in the months he’d worked for me. He had never let me down and on the occasion when he’d needed to think on his feet as we’d run out of something or someone had a really weird food allergy, he’d succeeded with a passing out parade and a medal.
“Simone, there’s a Leif Rossi asking for you at reception. I tried to deal with it but he’s insistent he speaks to you.” My manager entered the prep room, looking immaculately put together as always. “I tried. Promise you, I tried.” She looked at me sympathetically and I wondered what foul spirit lingered.
Leaf Rossi was a singer; someone I probably should’ve known more about. His height was the first thing I noticed, the second his face. He should’ve been on the cover of Vogue or stuffed and mounted so women could stare at him forever, because he was beautiful. He was also giving off bad vibes.
You didn’t walk into my restaurant and try to make me feel small. Or get your own way. Or use your height, build or looks to achieve whatever your goal was. I could’ve made more money by closing my restaurant for private functions at the last minute, but I wanted it to be the sort of place that people looked forward to coming, so I wasn’t going to disappoint them with last minute cancellations.
