Page 51 of Breaking Hollywood

I pour out two glasses of wine and put one in front of Gabe while he’s busy filling up a tortilla with the jerk prawns.

I grab a tortilla and put some pork, salad, and banana salsa in it. Then, I wrap it up and take a bite.

Gabe takes a bite of the taco. His eyes close on a moan.

And my girlie bits come to life in response. My body lights up. And my nipples get embarrassingly hard.

Please don’t show through my clothes.

His eyes open, and he takes another bite. The taco is almost gone; his bites are that big.

“Good?” I ask him.

“So fucking good,” he groans around a mouthful. He chews and swallows it down. Then, he puts the last of the taco in his mouth. “Fuck, Speedy. My stomach thanks you.” He grabs another tortilla and starts loading that up.

My cheeks heat at the compliment. “It’s no biggie.”

“Maybe not to you since you come from a family of chefs. But, to a guy who lives on takeout, this is amazing. What kind of restaurant do your parents have?” he asks me.

“New American cuisine. It’s a bar and restaurant.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s in New York.”

“I’ll have to go next time I’m there. What’s it called?”

“Simms. You know, our surname. Nothing original. Just let me know when you’re going to be there, and I’ll make sure you get the best table.”

He takes a drink of his wine and then starts in on his taco. “Why didn’t you become a chef?”

I put my food down on my plate. “Because I know firsthand how demanding the job is. I saw the hours my parents put into the restaurant—and still do—and, as much as I love cooking, I knew it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, to be honest, and after college, I just fell into working in wardrobe. I’ve always loved clothes, and it’s a fun job, so it works for me.”

“And your brother? You said he’s a lawyer, right?”

“Yeah, a corporate lawyer. It takes him all over the world.”

“Where is he at the moment?”

“Tokyo.”

“Great city.”

“You’ve been there?”

“A couple of times, promoting movies.”

“Ah, right. I’d love to go. The farthest I’ve ever been is Hawaii on a family holiday when I was a kid.” I pick my glass up and take a sip. “So, I know what your brother does. But what do your parents do?”

He doesn’t answer, so I glance over at him.

He’s frozen still.

“Gabe?”

His eyes flicker back to life. “My parents are gone.” He picks his wine up and drains the glass.

“Gone?”