In the Fire (15 page)

When I turned around, Trevor looked at Ethan’s empty station, then back to me. “Sorry, J. Ethan slipped out while we were talking to the students. Wanna grab a bite to eat? We need to talk.”

I released the breath I hadn’t known I had been holding. “Thanks, Trev, but can we talk tomorrow? I just need to get through tonight and then we’ll talk.”

He hesitated, looking back at the almost-clean prep stations, before narrowing his eyes. “I think we need to talk now. Just...trust me on this one.”

My entire body tensed, all the inner calm I’d felt earlier from being in the kitchen again, gone. Trevor rarely pushed me when I asked for space, but this time he seemed adamant about us hashing all this out now. I was afraid if we talked now, I’d say things I would later regret.

Following Trevor out of the kitchen, I wondered what had suddenly changed to make Trevor insist we talk. That was a close second to wondering if Ethan would ever stop running so
I
didn’t have to be the one to push for the discussion I knew we needed to have.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ethan

When I walked through the double doors of the ballroom, I blinked in awe. The lights were dimmed. Tables filled half the room while the other half held an enormous dance floor. The transformation was amazing.

“Holy shit. This looks incredible. Thanks for dragging me to this, E.” Claire had agreed to be my date for the evening after Cal had closed the restaurant for a few days until we could get the fire system recharged.

After we handed our coats to be checked, Claire smoothed down the fabric of her dress and squared her shoulders. I pulled at the stupid tux bow tie and cursed when my gaze landed on Jamie Lassiter in his tux. This time, without the haze of an excessive amount of booze, I could appreciate just how good-looking he was.

I stared until Claire tugged at my arm. “Stop searching for Jamie and let’s find our table.”

“
Claire.
”

“What, Ethan? Either get your shit together and make up with that ridiculously handsome man or shut up. This is the first time in five years I’ve been out of the kitchen in a goddamn dress and I plan on enjoying it without your pissy attitude, thank you.”

“Jesus, Claire. Could you be any louder?”

“Probably.” She smiled innocently at me. “Oh look, there he is. Hey, Jamie!”

She walked off toward Lassiter, who beamed at her. He used to smile at me that way, and even though I hated to admit it, I missed it. As I watched Claire wrap her arms around him, Lassiter shot me a look. I’d left the restaurant this morning to escape his constant need for us to talk, which I knew would ultimately land us in a fight. Otherwise, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what else I had done lately to warrant the frustration I felt rolling off of him.

Pissed at myself for even giving a shit, I weaved my way to the back of the crowded room. The last time I’d tried this had been an utter disaster. I knew a few of the faces milling around the room from before when I’d volunteered at the Institute, and of course Boulanger, Claire and Lassiter. Content to stay in the background, I grabbed a bottle of water from the bartender and hung off to the side.

“Ah, Monsieur Martin, good to see you again.”

I cracked a smile at Chef Boulanger. “Looking good there, Teach. As much as I hate wearing this monkey suit, this whole thing is pretty incredible.”

“
Merci
, Ethan. It has taken a lot of planning, but ultimately it is worth the monkey suits,
oui
?”

I laughed. “If it brings in some much-needed money for charity and the school, it’s worth it. The required dress code I could do without, though.”

He nodded and took a sip of his drink. “If it gets donors in the doors to contribute, it’s more than worth it to me. We do an event like this every few years just to remind people in the community we exist.”

I nodded at the crowd. “Whatever it takes, I guess.”

“People contribute however they can. With their time, like yourself, or monetary donations like Monsieur Lassiter. Never underestimate the power of celebrity—or in your case, notoriety.”

“At least the money and fame is good for something,” I acknowledged.

“Ah yes, but we both know it is not everything.” He gave me one of his serene smiles and patted my shoulder. “I must mingle, but thank you again for participating.”

He quickly disappeared into the throng of expensively dressed attendees, leaving me alone to my thoughts. I’d figured it would be a no-brainer cooking in the school’s restaurant again. I’d spent three years there until I landed my job at Cal’s place. But seeing Jamie working alongside me had stirred emotions I wasn’t ready to face. I was still pissed he had chosen someone like Trevor over me. Pissed that he had been blind to what had happened between us when he was in Paris, and even more blind to Trevor’s current manipulation. I was pissed at myself even more for believing Trevor’s lies when I should have fought harder.

A gentle arm wrapped around my waist. “Let’s find our table. I heard they’re going to announce who won the auctions after dinner, and you know how I love to live vicariously through rich people’s deep pockets.”

Claire winked at me, nudging me away from my place against the wall and into the dining area. Trying to be nonchalant, I looked at our tickets for our table numbers, desperately hoping we were not at the same table as Golden Boy and Trustfund.

Claire tugged me toward a table to the left of the stage. “We’re not at the same table, E, so you can stop worrying.”

I glared at her, stuffing the tickets back into my jacket pocket. “Bite me, Claire. I wasn’t worrying. I was just double-checking our table number.”

She snorted. “Sure. Whatever you say, E. But you can calm down now. He’s at table eighteen, next to the podium.”

I bit back an angry retort as I followed her to our table, loosening my tourniquet of a tie. Once I finally got the damn thing to stop choking me, I settled back in my chair and scanned the room. Usually when I was surrounded by this much money I would bolt, not wanting to deal with the fake smiles and insipid conversation. Tonight I only saw dollar signs for the charity. I had spent too many nights scraping by with what little we had to not appreciate how this much money gathered together might save other kids from what Claire and I went through.

My eyes swept the room, looking for anyone else in the business I knew. There were a few local chefs present, but the majority were high-dollar couples in uncomfortable clothes, writing checks for more than I made in a month.

To distract myself, I looked around the room again and noticed Trevor sitting stiffly in his chair and looking distinctly uncomfortable. Trouble in paradise already? I knew I should have felt guilty for reveling in his discomfort, but Trustfund had been a thorn in my side since Jamie had moved to Paris all those years ago, and if time had done anything, it had only made him more of a prick.

Claire talked to our tablemates over dinner, laughing and joking as if she had been friends with all of them her whole life. It was times like these when I knew I was a bristly bastard, but I just couldn’t fake it around people I knew I was never going to see again. I’d miss her people skills when, probably someday soon, she got her own place and made it the talk of Seattle. I’d been overjoyed when Cal hired Claire to work alongside me in the kitchen at Sharpe’s, and she’d been content to work as my sous chef after Cal promoted me to executive chef. Recently, though, the desire to be head chef at a place of her own had grown. She had promised me she’d stay with me for the first year after I bought the restaurant from Cal, but we both knew it would be temporary until she could find a place for herself. I wasn’t sure how I’d manage without her.

After dessert, we settled back in our chairs as Chef Boulanger stepped onto the stage. He cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention and smiled at the assembled guests. “
Bonsoir
and
bienvenue.
From the initial estimate from our brunch this morning, in addition to the ticket sales for tonight’s event, we are happy to announce we will be contributing at least ten thousand dollars to No More Hunger’s campaign to end childhood hunger. On that note, can we please have our guest chefs from this morning rise so we can properly thank them? Their expertise and unique dishes were quite a hit amongst this morning’s diners.”

As I tried to slink down in my chair, the audience erupted into applause. Claire’s sharp jab to my ribs forced me to lurch to my feet as the spotlight moved around the room. I plastered on what I assumed was a genial smile and hoped for the best.

After I waved to the applauding crowd I sat down heavily in my chair and shot her a glare. “Thanks, Clairebear. I don’t need to be able to breathe or move or anything.”

“E, you need to practice smiling more. You look like a serial killer.”

“Not funny. Not everyone is good at the fake shit.”

“Like Jamie?” She smiled at me. “But you know he’s not really fake, E. He’s just got his game face on. You have one, too, you know. It’s your don’t-fuck-with-me look. You see? You’re really not as different as you want to believe, are you.”

She settled back in her chair as Boulanger began speaking again. “In addition to the fundraising efforts to which we are participating to benefit No More Hunger, I’m also pleased to announce the establishment of a new scholarship endowment at the Institute for a student who shows great need. The donor, a valued member of the local restaurant community, wishes to remain anonymous but we give him our thanks.”

Boulanger winked at me and I grinned. Subtle as a bowling ball, Chef B.

“I’m guessing you had no part in creating the scholarship, right?” Claire’s knowing voice made me smile and I looked at her.

“What? Tyler needs to learn how to cook a proper steak. Plus I talked to financial aid. If anyone would qualify, it’s him.”

I focused as Chef B rattled off the items donated to the silent auction, which people had apparently been bidding on all night. “...a weeklong pastry class for beginners at the Institute as taught by yours truly, a special wine pairing dinner for six...” He paused as a woman in an evening gown handed him a piece of paper. “Well, it looks like one of our items has surpassed all of our expectations. Local chef Ethan Martin has generously donated his time to prepare a private chef’s table dinner for the winning bid of one thousand dollars. Congratulations to the winner and to everyone else who helped to make tonight such a huge success.”

When the spotlight landed on me again, I knew I hadn’t succeeded in pasting on my fake grin this time. I’d hoped my auction item would raise money for the school, but a thousand dollars was an insane amount for it. The longer the applause went on, the more it sunk in. Goddamit, I’d just gotten myself sold off to the highest bidder like a piece of meat.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jamie

I sat in one of Seattle’s more famous independent coffee shops, enjoying my lack of commitments. For once I wasn’t speaking to anyone, pimping my latest book, or even trying to sell my brand. I simply sat by myself, people-watching from my seat in the back as I snacked on a pastry and sipped my coffee. I should have felt guilty for not inviting Trevor to join me, but at the moment I relished the fact that I was finally alone with nowhere pressing to be.

Our ride back to the hotel after the brunch had been tense. At first I thought he wanted to talk about doing more public engagements, but instead he’d dropped a bomb on me, one I wasn’t sure how to process. Needing more time to wrap my brain around it all, and knowing the gala was neither the time nor the place to bring anything up, I kept my distance from both Trevor and Ethan. Two days later and I still didn’t know what I was going to do.

When my phone beeped with a text message, I almost didn’t answer it since I knew it could only be one person.

I know you’re not interested, but you just got an offer to do a guest spot at a local restaurant.

My fist tightened around the phone as I typed out my one-word answer with my free hand and hit Reply.
Nope
. A part of me believed Trevor thought he could keep me from dwelling on things if he kept me busy. The truth was I honestly needed a break and if he didn’t understand, I didn’t know how else to explain it.

I picked up my paper, flipping to the restaurant scene section, intent on getting caught up when my phone beeped again.

Are you going to avoid me forever?

Of course I wasn’t going to avoid him forever. I just wanted five minutes alone to breathe. I couldn’t fathom throwing away nine years of friendship, but his actions had definitely made me want to take a step back and regain some perspective.

I quickly texted him back.

I need time to digest everything, Trev. After what you told me, I deserve that much.

Ok.

I paid for my coffee and food and grabbed my paper. So much for getting away. While I respected Trevor for trying to communicate after all the things he’d said and done, right now I just wanted a break from it. I wandered around the area, checked out a few of my favorite landmarks from before when I’d lived in Seattle, and even walked around the Market.

I’d visited the sprawling historic building with Ethan and Claire. We’d frequented the small, locally supplied stalls for ingredients, walked over for takeout when we had the extra money, picked out flowers for Claire’s birthday.

I wandered aimlessly until I found myself standing in front of Sharpe’s on Fifth. Ethan’s restaurant. I’d been here before, but at the time I hadn’t really focused on anything beyond a confrontation after New York.

Since I hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him after the gala, now was as good a time as any. The lunch rush probably had been over for a while. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. A pleasant-looking waitress came over to greet me.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lassiter. I’m sorry, but we’re still closed for business. We’re only keeping the doors unlocked for the work crews to come and go. Sorry for the confusion. We should be back open by the end of the week.”

The surprise must have shown on my face. She shook her head sadly. “Don’t worry, everything will be taken care of and we’ll be back open for business in no time.”

“I’m sure it will. Actually, I was hoping to speak to the chef. Is Eth...Mr. Martin around?”

Her face fell. “I’m sorry, but Chef Martin is out of the kitchen at the moment. May I pass along a message for you?”

“How about the other Chef Martin? Is Claire here?”

“Let me check if she’s available. Please wait here.”

This time I looked around the room, noticing all the dark masculine lines and gleaming mahogany paneled walls. Sharpe’s on Fifth looked like a classy gentleman’s club from a bygone era. Even though it was a beautiful space, it didn’t fit Ethan at all and I wondered if he’d remodel later on. It was way too formal for him and his style of cooking, which had tended to be more eclectic and less stuffy.

“Chef Martin says feel free to come back to the kitchen. Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Lassiter.” She smiled and gestured for me to follow her back.

Claire was hard at work, her dark head bent as she conferred with a much younger man in whites, who still had the gawky look of someone nearing the end of their teenage years. When she looked up and met my eyes, a genuine smile spread across her face.

“Jamie. I’d hoped you’d be back for a visit.” Surprised but touched, I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her back gently. Claire had always given awesome hugs. Ethan didn’t know how lucky he was.

“What brings you here? And before you give me your own paltry answer, please say you’re finally going to talk some sense into my bonehead brother.”

The man standing at the station snorted, unsuccessfully trying to hide his reaction behind his hand.

“This beanpole is Tyler, by the way. Tyler, this is world-famous chef and a pain in my ass, James Lassiter.”

Tyler gaped at me for a second, then snapped his mouth shut. “Shit. I knew you looked familiar.” He winced. “Sorry Chef, I didn’t mean to say shit. Shit. Sorry, Chef.” He turned beet red.

Claire just laughed and I joined her. “Don’t apologize on his behalf, Tyler. Jamie’s well acquainted with Ethan’s rather colorful vocabulary.”

Tyler ducked his head in embarrassment when I held out my hand to shake his. His grip was loose and palm sweaty and I knew from his nervous look he was a little starstruck.

“Hey, Jamie, can I talk to you privately real quick. In Ethan’s office?” Claire asked.

I nodded. “Anything for you.” I was pretty sure I could get the answers I needed from Claire.

She smiled at Tyler. “Give me ten minutes. Practice your julienne technique but come get me if an official from the health department comes by, okay?”

“Yes, Chef.” He nodded and returned to his station, eyeing the pieces of bell pepper with intensity.

“This way, Jamie.”

I followed Claire to the small but cluttered office I could have identified as Ethan’s without being told. Piles of paper covered his desk, a calendar with staff schedules hung on the wall and a couple of framed pictures sat on a shelf.

“Yeah, it’s a little messy in here.” Claire laughed as she took a seat in the battered desk chair. “Eth is still a pack rat.” She gestured for me to sit in the chair next to it and grabbed a file folder out of the stack, her expression completely unreadable.

“You know I love you and my brother, right? Together or apart, you’re still family.” I nodded, touched by her words. I wished I’d kept in better contact with Claire over the years, breakup or not. “And I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

I waited for her to continue. “Ethan would totally kill me if he knew I was talking about this with you. But I don’t know who else to ask.”

“Okay. How can I help?”

She handed me a piece of expensive stationery and I tensed when I saw the familiar letterhead of Lassiter Corporation, my father’s company, at the top. All the questions I wanted to ask Claire suddenly disappeared. I’d had no contact with my parents since I left Seattle and had tried not to think about them and the life they had continued living without their son. But seeing my father’s name in black and white brought home all the pain from eight and a half years ago as if no time had passed at all.

As I scanned the letter, my hands began to shake with anger. Even though it was the acquisitions department of my dad’s company and headed up by a grunt instead of my dad, the offer to buy the restaurant had still obviously earned his blessing. When I finally got to the bottom of the letter, my stomach turned. R. Jackson. It couldn’t be a coincidence, not after all these years. Not after this letter had specifically come to the restaurant where Ethan was head chef.

“How long have you known about this, Claire?”

She sighed and pushed more paperwork my way. Bills for repairs. Failed inspection notices. Estimates for new equipment. All of them dated within the last month. “Well, that’s a tricky question to answer. I actually just found out about the letter from your dad’s company this week.” She patted my hand when I flinched at the mention of my father. “The other stuff? Let’s just say it’s been a nightmare of a month. But these letters? E still hasn’t told me about them. I found them when I needed to find a stapler in his drawers.”

I quirked an eyebrow at her and she snorted. “Okay. I was snooping. But E hasn’t been the same this past month. I know things have been tense since you guys saw each other in New York, but I could tell it was more than that. He always tries to take care of me, but I have to watch his back too.”

I slipped into the chair next to the desk and reread the letter again. The first two were signed by a Jon Atwood, Esquire. But the third one, dated last week, was co-signed by R. Jackson. The timing was just too damn convenient for Reed not to be a major instigator of it all. He had been a Grade A dick in school and obviously the past eight years had done little to change that. I wouldn’t put it past either my dad or Reed to put pressure on Cal to sell. My dad hadn’t gotten to the top by being a nice guy. In fact, he and Reed pretty much tied for Asshole of the Decade in my book.

“What exactly are you asking me, Claire? Do I think this all sounds fishy? Yes. Is my dad doing anything illegal? It doesn’t look like it, but the timing is too convenient for me to ignore.”

“That’s what I was thinking, but since I wasn’t supposed to know anything about this—” she waved her hand at the papers I now had spread across the desk, “—I really didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. You know how E gets when he’s cornered. It gets ugly fast.”

I closed my eyes and sat back in my chair. Yes, I knew how ugly things got when Ethan felt cornered. I also knew how ugly things could get when my dad felt cornered, especially by a son he had disowned nine years ago. There was no way I could check into this by myself. I needed help. Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I pulled up my favorites and called the one person who had more connections in the restaurant industry than I did.

“Jamie? Is everything okay?”

I ran my hand through my hair, a sudden pang of guilt hitting me. Of course, after a weekend of not talking, Trevor would assume I was calling because I was in trouble. Regardless of what else happened, this was one relationship I had the power to patch up, and his greeting made me realize I needed to salvage it soon.

“Everything’s fine, Trev. Well, kind of. I’m at Cal’s restaurant and I need help with something. Something I think only you can help with, actually.”

He paused and all I could hear over the line was his breathing. I was about to tell him to forget it and I was sorry to bug him, when his voice, soft but infused with emotion, came through the earpiece.

“Of course, J. You know I’ll help with anything. What do you need me to do?”

Guilt settled low in my stomach, but we had both done damage to our friendship and maybe this was a way for us to work together.

“Do you think you could come by the restaurant? I have a few documents I’d like you to see. Something about them doesn’t add up, but I wouldn’t even know where to look to begin making sense of it all without letting everyone know exactly what I was doing.”

After our talk in the car on Saturday, he’d made his feelings abundantly clear. However, he’d also made it clear he now knew the score between us. I hadn’t had to say much in response, but the sag of his shoulders once we’d finished our talk spoke volumes. He had hurt me by keeping things from me about Ethan and for obviously misleading Ethan all these years. But I knew I had hurt him, too, by never noticing his feelings for me.

“I can be there in about twenty minutes. And, J? Thanks for calling me when you could have called someone else. I promise we’ll get to the bottom of whatever has you this worried.”

The call disconnected before I could reply. I pulled the phone away from my ear and sat for a minute staring at it, willing it to give me the answers I’d desperately wanted for weeks.

“That bad, huh?”

Claire’s voice pulled me out of my self-flagellation. I smiled sadly at her as I slipped the phone back in my pocket.

“I don’t think it’s been the best month for any of us.”

She walked around and sat on the edge of the desk, leaning close enough to ruffle my hair the way she had done when I’d lived with her and Ethan.

“I’m sure my bonehead brother factors into it. He always does. I think he excels at it, actually.”

I leaned into her touch, starved for any kind of contact I could get.

“He is one of a kind. But actually, yes, he’s a huge part of it. It’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about before you showed me all of this.”

Claire sat up and gathered up all the paperwork and pushed it to the side. “This can wait, but from the way you and E have looked lately, what you want to talk to me about can’t. So lay it on me and let’s see if together we can’t put at least a little bit of this shit straight. Well, about as straight as you and my brother can be.”

The tension I’d felt in my shoulders and back slowly began to relax as I laughed out loud.

“Have I told you lately how much I’ve missed you? God it’s good to finally be here with you like this. And honestly, I’m not really sure what’s going on, but I think if I don’t get some answers I’m going to go crazy.”

Claire smiled like the Cheshire Cat and kicked her feet playfully. “Lay it on me and let’s fix this shit before I neuter both you and my brother.”