In the Fire (3 page)

My stomach hurt for a second. Sausage and pepper sandwiches had been one of the go-to meals we’d cooked together after we both got off work. Nothing had been better after a long day than a late-night meal with him. Until he’d left.

I poked at the sandwich, suddenly no longer hungry. I managed to eat it and chased it down with a beer, staring out my kitchen window as the ever-present Seattle rain drizzled down outside.

What did I want? More than anything, I wanted to own Cal’s restaurant outright and make it my own. I’d clawed my way up from the time my dad left to now, and I could almost taste the victory of finally having a place of my own. If I had to do it on my own instead of with the person I had originally imagined doing it with, so be it.

Getting the award would be excellent publicity for the restaurant, and in today’s economy, every little bit helped. Having to see Jamie again was going to be shitty, I knew. But I’d worked and sacrificed everything else in my life. What was one more small thing like pride?

Chapter Four

Jamie

I sipped my coffee. Sweet caffeinated perfection. Too wired from the taping but too exhausted to do anything besides just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, I’d lain awake for hours last night. Between the coffee and Foo Fighters blaring through my speakers, I was beyond grateful I had nothing more pressing to do at the moment than go through the mail that had accumulated while I was gone. It was time to think about how I was going to spend my next few weeks off from the promo grind. I crossed the room to turn up the music, needing Dave’s growls to wake me up, when a loud pounding at the door stopped me.

“Dammit, Jamie! Turn down the shitty grunge and open your door!”

I clicked the volume a few notches higher in rebellion before I opened the door to an exasperated-looking Trevor. “Good morning to you too, Trev. I see I’m not the only one who got up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

Trevor brushed past, picked up my remote and turned down the music. “How the hell can you listen to this crap this early in the morning?”

Dave Grohl’s voice faded into the background. Trevor tossed the remote aside and wound his way into my kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. Black with no sugar. I shuddered, looking into my highly doctored coffee, thankful I’d stopped on the way home the night I’d flown in from Charlotte for extra heavy cream and sugar. I could do without food in my pantry and fridge for a couple of days, but no cream for my coffee was a recipe for disaster.

I picked up the remote and turned up the music to an acceptable level, smirking at him when he sank down onto my black leather sofa. “Have we been in New York so long you’ve forgotten where I grew up? Just be thankful my musical tastes aren’t heavier, or I’d have made you listen to much worse over the years.”

Trevor snorted and tossed me a large manila envelope. “Yeah, I’ll keep it in mind next time we have to go on a road trip. Here are the details for this weekend’s American Culinary Honors Awards ceremony with the itinerary for pictures and cocktails, plus the reservation information for your room Saturday night at The Plaza. We’ve both got standard rooms, but you know everything there is ridiculously upscale. I figured why spend the extra money on a suite when you were only going to be there for one night.”

I pulled out the packet of information and thumbed through the details about the hotel quickly. “You do know I happen to live in Midtown. I don’t need a room at The Plaza. I could have always come back here to crash after the awards ceremony.”

We’d had this argument before, but one quick look at him told me he’d booked the rooms in the hope I would actually attempt the mingle-and-relax thing. I could do it when I needed to, but I hated smiling vacantly until my face hurt. “Thanks, Trev.”

He set his coffee aside and turned to face me, a serious expression on his face. “It’s what you pay me for, right?”

I snorted and pulled out the rest of the information in the envelope. “I pay you for busting your ass, but you’ve always been my friend and I trust you. I always have.”

Trevor opened his mouth as if to say something but instead picked up his coffee again and took a long drink. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “You need someone to take care of you. I’m just glad you let me do it.” He paused and tugged the paperwork out of my hands. “You do know Alex is going to be there, right? You okay with that?”

I sighed and took the paperwork back, but looked into Trevor’s concerned eyes. “It’s fine.” His look told me he didn’t believe me. “Really, it’s all good. It’s been over for a year and we split on good terms. We both knew it wasn’t a good fit for either of us. And I’ve seen him since, or don’t you remember Jordan’s party last month?”

His eyes narrowed. “I remember Alex getting drunk and hitting on Casey while everyone else stood by and watched with horrified expressions. As far as this weekend goes, I’ll be there on Saturday to help run interference if you need it. I just want you to be prepared when you see people from your past.”

“Everyone has a past, Trev.”

He looked down at the paperwork again. “Speaking of pasts...”

My eyes caught a single name on the itinerary for the awards ceremony right as his words trailed off. The paper in my hand trembled. “When were you going to tell me?”

His words came rushing out as he took the paperwork from me. “I just got the details this past weekend. You were still in Charlotte and I knew you’d rather hear it in person. You sounded exhausted every time we talked and I thought it would be better if I gave you a few days to unwind.”

Not trusting my voice, I got up and refilled my mug. I took a long pull from it, grimacing at the bitter coffee and the lack of sugar to help make it more palatable.

Trevor scrubbed a hand through his dark, gelled hair, mussing it slightly. The skin around his dark eyes was tight with worry. I pushed away from the kitchen counter and rejoined him on the couch, taking the itinerary back. I skimmed the page again, complete with notes hand tailored for me by the awards committee:

5:00—Cocktails in The Champagne Bar

6:00—Pictures for all award Recipients and Presenters

7:00—Take seats (table assignment included in packet) in The Grand Ballroom

7:30–9:30—Awards Ceremony

*8:45—Presentation of Outstanding Pacific NW Rising Chef Award

* (James Lassiter to present award to Ethan Martin)

9:30–Midnight—Drinks and Dancing

A rush of emotions washed over me as I stared at the name on the page. Ethan Martin. Here. In New York. And I was scheduled to introduce him on a stage in front of our peers and people we didn’t even know, all while pretending we didn’t have history.

“Jamie. Hey. I can always tell them you’d rather not present the award for personal reasons. I’m sure someone else could do it.”

I cleared my throat. “It’s fine. I can do this. We’re both professionals, right? I’m sure we can be at the same function and not let our past get in the way of our careers.”

Today was Wednesday. Only three more days. Three days after not seeing
him
for over eight years.
Holy shit.

Trevor gently pried the paperwork from my hands before my fingers could completely mangle it. “They said they’d paired you two because you were in the same class at culinary school, but shit, J. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

I stood up and crossed the room to shut off the music, having lost my interest for anything except silence, staring out the window. After weeks of cold and gray, New York was finally getting a break from the usual bitter weather. “I’m fine, Trevor. Don’t change it. It’s one night. I think I can handle one night.”

He stood and started to walk over to me. “Jamie—”

I turned from the window and waved him off. “I can handle it, Trev.”

The look on his face was a mixture of concern and anger. Before he could say anything else, I took our coffee mugs to the kitchen and set them in the sink. I was too tired to have the same old conversation we usually had whenever Ethan’s name was mentioned. “How about dinner tonight at La Terrazza? I have nothing in my apartment except stuff to make coffee and I’ll go nuts if I don’t have their fried ravioli soon.”

I knew I was avoiding the conversation, but I’d deal with it tomorrow. Or Saturday. Not today. I was too tired to deal with any of it today.

Trevor knew when not to push, as he just nodded and headed to the door. “Sounds perfect. How about I cab it over around eight and we’ll walk over? I’ll call Therese ahead of time and reserve us a table.”

He paused as if there was more he wanted to say, but I didn’t want to hear anything else about my past or Ethan. “See you. And thanks for taking care of the arrangements at The Plaza.”

Trevor leaned forward and grasped my shoulder. “It’s my job, right? Taking care of your famous ass.”

I laughed. “Well my ass and I thank you. See you tonight.”

Trevor squeezed my shoulder one last time and closed the door behind him as he left. I wondered how to banish the images which had roared back when I saw Ethan’s name on the itinerary. Eight years.

As if on autopilot, I went to the spare bedroom. I’d gotten the two-bedroom in case I ever had guests, even though it hadn’t been used once since I moved in over two years ago. After a quick search in the bedroom closet, I found the box I’d put together when I had first moved out of Trevor’s apartment and into my own place. I’d looked through it a few times, but mostly it had gone from one closet shelf to the next. Sitting down on the bed, I laid the box down and lifted the lid, taking a deep breath to steel my nerves.

Set in a sleek black frame was a picture of Ethan and me taken during our first and only New Year’s Eve together. Claire had taken it before we had all piled in their car to go out to a local brew pub for the night. His arm was wrapped tightly around my waist and instead of looking at the camera like I was, Ethan was focused on me.

My chest ached just looking at how young and naïve we were. Two days after the picture was taken, we were standing at the airport with my bags packed and my passport in my hand as we said goodbye.

Without saying a word
,
Ethan pushed my backpack off my shoulders and crushed me to him.
His lips brushed against mine.
“
It’s only six months.
We can do six months.
Right?
”

I
nodded and kissed him again
,
wanting the single kiss to tell him everything would be okay.
It’d be a lonely
,
rough six months
,
but we would be fine.
We already had six months together and in another six months I’d be back
,
just like this.
When Ethan finally broke the kiss
,
I
bumped my forehead to his.
“
I
love you.
I’ll be home before you know it.
”

He let me go and I made my way on wooden legs through the security line.
I
only looked back once and felt like my heart was being torn from my chest when I saw him standing there
,
close but already a million miles away.
As soon as I had made it to the other side
,
and he and Claire were lost from view
,
I
broke down.
I
must have stood there for a full ten minutes before I heard the overhead speakers announce the boarding for my flight.
When we taxied down the runway
,
I
knew I was doing the single hardest thing I’d ever done in my life.
Not even my parents disowning me for being gay had hurt this much.
I’d just left the one person who had made me feel whole and loved.

It hadn’t been the single hardest day of my life. The months of being apart had taken their toll on both of us, culminating in a huge fight when I told him I had gotten an internship for the next year in New York and wouldn’t even be able to come home for a visit before I started. That day at Sea-Tac airport had been a goddamn cakewalk compared to the day in June when I landed in New York with the knowledge my relationship was all but finished and I had no idea how to fix it.

I traced Ethan’s face with my finger. Eight years and I still had no clue what I was going to say to him this weekend. It was time to put it all behind us.

Chapter Five

Ethan

After the busy lunch rush, I had a few minutes of quiet while everyone took their breaks. If I was going to attend this shindig in New York without losing it, I’d need backup. I knew the perfect person to ask in Manhattan. Before I could chicken out, I glanced at my watch then dialed her number. New York was three hours ahead, so she should be around—unless she was out schmoozing potential clients.

Lily Thomas. Bombshell beautiful with the thickest New Yawk accent I’d ever heard, Lily was an irresistible combination of feminine looks with a dirty mouth. I’d met her at a wine thing Cal had badgered me into going to years ago, after I’d first started at Sharpe’s.

Other wine distribution reps at the function had seen me as just another face, another person to schmooze so they could pad their invoices at the end of the month. Lily, though, was different. She was a natural blonde with big brown eyes and pin-up-girl curls. Right from the beginning she had caught everyone’s eye, mine included. A few flirty comments passed back and forth, and before I knew it, she dragged me into a closet for a quickie without exchanging another word. Lily was fun and didn’t want anything from me but my body. After having what passed for my heart ripped out by Lassiter, she’d been a welcome distraction and we’d kept up an easy friendship with dirty benefits over the years.

“Well, good afternoon to you, Starshine. The earth says hello,” she purred.

“Hey, beautiful. Are you in the city?” I sat back in my chair and rubbed my eyes.

“Why? Are you coming to see me? Or should I say, coming on me?”

Her throaty laugh settled low in my stomach and despite my exhaustion, I felt myself smile.

“Both. It’s been too long since I’ve toured the Big Apple.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” I could hear her seductive smile over the line.

“I need a date, lovely Lily.”

“A date?” Her voice rose in surprise. “You know we don’t date, E. We meet, we eat, we drink and we fuck.” She paused. “All my favorite things, really.”

“Not a real date. I have this thing to go to and I didn’t want to be left alone in a room of self-important douchebags.”
And the man who broke my heart.

She laughed louder this time. “Tell me how you really feel about them, E.”

“I have to go for the restaurant, but I really don’t want to. At least if you were there we could get drunk and make fun of all the rich people. I’m sure we can find a janitor closet to reenact old times.”

“Such a romantic. It’s a wonder you haven’t been snapped up.”

“I like to chalk it up to my sparkling wit and humor.”

She snickered. “It’s why I hang out with you. That and your dick.”

“My dick and I will be happy to see you. I’ll email you the details.”

“I’ll be there. It’ll be good to have you on my home turf for once. See you in a few days, Ethan.”

“Later, Lils.”

As I hung up the phone, my office door swung open and Claire appeared, a worried look on her face.

“What’s wrong? Did Tyler figure out the new sauce recipe okay?”

“Tyler’s fine. We just got this, though.”

She handed me a piece of paper, which I quickly skimmed. “A notice from the fire suppression company? Didn’t we just have the system and nozzles inspected a few months ago?” By code, the systems had to be inspected on a regular schedule, as fire was always a danger in a commercial kitchen. High heat, gas flames and hot oil didn’t mix.

Claire nodded. “We did and we passed, remember?”

“Why are we being inspected again? This doesn’t make any sense.” When I saw the date of the inspection I cursed. “I’m going to be flying back the day the inspector is here. Goddamn it. Let me call and tell them I can’t go.”

“E, you can still go. Cal and I have this, okay? There’s not much for you to do when they’re here anyhow, remember? At least this way they can get them done without you pacing and glowering like usual.”

“I bet you’ll be happy to finally get your own place and not have to worry about all this shit.”

“You know I love working with you, big brother, and any place has its issues, but I’m here with you now. Cal and I have this under control. So get your ass to New York before I have to drag you there myself.”

I shot her a glare before she left the office. “We’ll see.”

Her head popped back into view before the door shut, her expression serious. With barely a whisper she mouthed, “He’s waiting outside. Be nice.”

No time like the present.
I nodded and held my hands up in mock surrender before she popped back out of view.

“Chef?” Tyler’s head poked through the open door.

“Yes, New Guy?”

“You told me to get you after I finished lunch.”

“Got a minute?”

“Sure Chef.” Tyler tried to hide the sudden confusion and anxiety in his expression.

“Look, I know I can be an asshole—”

Tyler’s head snapped up, his eyes widening. “I’ve never thought that. You’re just...kind of intimidating sometimes.”

“Yeah, I can be and everyone knows it. But I want you to know something else. You’re safe here. I might get pissed off and yell, but I’m happy with how hard you’re working. And I’m not going to kick you out of my kitchen the way your parents kicked you out of their house. I may be an asshole, but I’m not that kind of asshole.”

My gut clenched when Tyler’s head tilted down, the embarrassment written all over his face.

“You’re not the first person I’ve known in this situation. Your parents are fucktards for how they treated you. I had a friend once...”

I coughed to clear my throat, which had suddenly become too tight. When would talking about Jamie ever get easier?

“I had a friend whose parents reacted the same way. They found out he was gay and they abandoned him. Granted, he never had to stay on the streets or in shelters like you did but he lost pretty much everything.” I felt sick to my stomach when I remembered how badly I’d reacted when Jamie had come out to his parents. How he had initially lied to them that I was his study partner, refusing to acknowledge our relationship. With time and perspective, I knew now I’d overreacted.

When Tyler finally looked up, his expression was a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment. I took a steadying breath.

“He stayed with me and Claire for a while. Just like Enrique and Flora took you in. There’s nothing wrong in accepting help when you need it and there’s absolutely nothing wrong, or weird or different about being gay.” I lowered my voice. “My dad left before he figured out I was bi but I know how it feels when people judge you for something you can’t change. It’s like breathing, right...who you love? You don’t really choose it, it just is.”

The deep sadness I’d seen in Tyler’s eyes when I’d found him behind the restaurant returned in force. The months at Enrique’s house had helped, but it was still there and it pissed me off that anyone could give birth to a child only to kick them to the curb for something ingrained like their sexuality.

My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. “I know it’s hard to trust when you’ve been let down before. But I just wanted to let you know you have friends here who care about you. You ever need anything—advice, help, or hell, just someone to vent to—you’ve got it. My door is always open.”

When Tyler didn’t respond, I scrubbed a hand over my face. Maybe I’d done more damage than good with my little talk. I was just about to call for Claire to come help me out when Tyler finally met my eyes and nodded.

“Thanks, Chef. It means...more than you know.”

Thank you
,
cooking gods.

“All right. Why don’t you go get your station prepped for our lesson today? I’ll be there in a second. And make sure you drink some water. This damn kitchen is running hot today.”

As the door shut behind him, I wasn’t sure who was more relieved the conversation was over, him or me. After all these years of trying to keep memories of Jamie at bay, it had only taken a single day for him to come crashing back into my life.

* * *

Three days, five hours, three thousand miles and four Jack and Cokes later I finally exited the plane at JFK. My foot had finally stopped tapping nervously by the time we passed over Iowa. Now if I could meet up with Lily and get this award dinner over without punching anyone, I’d be golden.

I grabbed my bag off the carousel and snagged a cab. After fighting traffic for ages, it finally pulled up in front of the hotel the awards had set me up at and I let out a low whistle.

I definitely wasn’t in my kitchen in Seattle anymore. The clothes of everyone around me screamed money. I had the feeling my most comfortable pair of ripped jeans, T-shirt and black hoodie with chucks weren’t exactly dress code for the Le Parker Meridien.

After getting checked in and getting the stink eye from a snooty-looking woman in the elevator, I finally made it to my room. I eyed the rented tux I found hanging in the closet courtesy of the concierge service and scowled. Chefs didn’t belong in tuxes. They belonged in their kitchens cooking. I had an hour and a half before I had to be at the Plaza Hotel where they were holding the dinner. Plenty of time to shower and get in my monkey suit before Lily was supposed to show up.

Once I was dressed, I let out a deep breath and flopped back on the bed. Even numb from the booze, I still found myself dreading the event even more than before I’d left. I rolled over and tugged the small netbook I’d borrowed from Claire from my bag. I waited for the Wi-Fi to connect and paused with my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I wondered if I was really ready to see Lassiter again.

For shits and giggles, I typed in the web search box, “Naked pictures James Lassiter.” I was unreasonably disappointed when the search returned zero results, but not surprised. Even when I’d known him, Jamie had blushed like crazy. I couldn’t imagine anyone convincing him to take naked pics or make a sex tape, though celebrity shit seemed to sell like crazy. I pushed down disgust at my own perversity as the booze and memory of a naked, blushing Jamie got me at half-mast.

I cleared the search box and typed in “blog James Lassiter.” If I didn’t delete the search history before I gave Claire back her computer, I’d never hear the end of it. I scrolled through the search results and clicked on a link. A professional website popped up, with a very serious-looking Lassiter staring back from a photo. I clicked on the media links and scrolled through a gallery of pictures stretching back the last few years. Most were media appearances or pics of him shaking hands with other famous, rich people. My eyes narrowed at a series with Jamie and his boyfriend...the name started with a T. Travis? Tom? Whatever. I read the caption below and scowled. “Trevor.”

I kept scrolling and saw several more pics with Jamie standing next to a Latino man, more with famous chefs. When I didn’t see any older pictures, I felt a weight settle heavier in my gut.
What was I expecting to find?
Pictures of Jamie and me smiling happily?
Obviously it hadn’t worked out.

Time to pack it in and grab another bottle of booze from the minibar. But first I idly clicked on the bio section and got a punch in the gut. A single picture taken with me, Claire and Jamie together stretched across the top of the page. In the photo we were laughing and food was smeared across our clothes and faces. It had been taken after a food fight we’d had one night when Jamie had been living with us. Before he’d left for Paris. My face heated when I remembered what had happened afterward when I’d dragged a frosting-covered Jamie into the shower. We’d used all the hot water and Claire had yelled at us afterward.

A sharp rap on the door had me cursing and I quickly closed the computer, shoving it back in the bag. I attempted to adjust my now-painful hard-on and prayed whomever was on the other side of the door wouldn’t notice.

I opened the door to find a very smug-looking Lily. Her gaze immediately dropped to my crotch as she deadpanned, “Is that a whisk in your pocket? Or are you just happy to see me?”