Sizzling in Singapore (A Carnal Cuisine Novel) (14 page)

***

By the time the kitchen had pretty much cleared out, Nick was staring at an empty bottle that once held Kurt's very old, very expensive Scotch. After Mae left the kitchen so abruptly he had retreated to the 'cave' and set about drinking away the thought of her. Of course, it didn't work. In fact it made it worse as alcohol tends to do.

He was well on his way to being quite drunk. Drunk and confused. He convinced himself that she had turned her feelings for him off completely. Then he convinced himself that she secretly loved him.

And, being in his cups, he was also horny. Not that he could have done much about that either, being unsure if he could even stand up at the moment. But images of their bodies together were running through his head like some very nicely done porn movie. No bad editing or poorly conceived plots, though. Just pure sweet and perfect images of her underneath him, glowing with exertion as he pummeled his hard dick into her. Of Mae's full lips wrapped around the head of his cock and her fingers pulling hard on the shaft. Of her pussy dripping into his mouth as she moaned her pleasure. Of her small perfect ass lifted up to him--a presentation of delightful promise.

"Boss?" Tank occupied the doorway completely.
"I'm gonna run now. You want I should lock the coolers?"

"Sure, Tank. That'll be fine." Nick focused one bleary eye on the giant.

"You okay, Chef?"

"Just been drinkin' a little," Nick slurred. "But I'm not driving. Don't figgir I could crash the elevator." Nick chuckled at his own not very funny joke.

"I guess you've got a right to slam a few back, Chef. Kurt's comin' back is kind of the end of an era for you, isn't it?"

"Yep. That's sure what it is. The end of an era."

"How long've you been working for the Elys?"

"I dunno...a very long time." Nick's head wasn't in any shape to count the years.

"I kinda envy you. I'd love to have my own show somewhere. Someday. I mean I enjoy the work here, but to be the 'real' boss, to own my own place. I think I'd like that."

"It's been a long time coming."

"You know, I think some people are just better at the corporate shit than I am. I gotta fight with myself all the time to keep my trap shut. But some people are just natural diplomats and can tow the line, like Mae."

"Ah, yes. Mae. The little chef that could."

"She sure can. That girl's golden."

"I bet she has a fine time for herself in this hotel."

"She don't complain."

"Who would? I mean she's got a great job and the benefits can't be beat."

"We got good benefits, that's true. Not many hotels have it better."

"That's not eggzackly what I meant." Nick eyed the empty bottle hoping it had somehow magically refilled itself. "I mean...cute little piece like that has plenty of meat passing through those fancy front doors."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know, plenty of rich businessmen, trust fund babies seeing the world, the occasional celebrity. I know all about it. Jeez, in San Fran I could get laid by a woman, man or both every night of the week. A lady chef, god that's gotta be even better."

"Chef, you're drunk or I'd be tempted to deck you. Mae's like a little sister to me, even if she is my boss. She ain't like that at all."

"Bullshit. We're all like that. Chefs are all whores."

"Look I don't know what's got into you other than that bottle of whiskey on your desk, but I've known Mae for going on five years. She ain't no whore. Hell, she's practically a little nun. In all the time I've known her I ain't never known her to just fuck around."

Nick looked up with a dubious smirk. "Is that so?"

"She got her heart broke once or twice. I coulda killed the wine asshole that left her mournin' him for months. No sir, I think you've read her all wrong. Don't see how you coulda, but I don't know you all that well."

"No you don't know me. I'm not too sure I know me."

"Well you don't know Mae, either. So let's just leave it at that."

"Sorry man. I didn't mean to offend. Just making stupid conversation."

"Look, Chef, it's late. Why don't I help you get up to your room?"

"Thanks, but I'll be fine. Really."

"Okay, boss, I'll see ya tomorrow. Take it easy now"

"Thanks Tank. Oh...and thanks for not decking me."

Tank closed the door on his way out and left Nick to think alone in the dim kitchen office. Even though his thoughts were not completely crystal clear, he slowly processed what the big man had told him. Tank had no reason to lie to Nick. Especially in the camaraderie of cooks, the sexual escapades of fellow chefs is fair game. If Mae had a penchant for rolling the guests, Tank would have shared a tale or two and they would have had a good laugh. Women can be every bit as raunchy behind the swinging doors as men. Early in his career, the young Nick had been shocked more than once at the frankness with which his female co-workers discussed all things sexual.

He laughed to himself as he recalled a waitress who had passed by some mayonnaise he had spilled on the prep counter and said
"nice splooge!" He didn't know what that meant at the time, but he knew from the laughter in the kitchen that it was something sexual.

Even as a gangly adolescent, Nick had been a handsome boy. He looked older than his years at fifteen. Because he'd spent so much time immersed in the bawdy atmosphere of the kitchen he could at least pretend a level of sophistication even if he didn't feel as mature as his swagger would suggest. As a result, his 'first time' took place on a flour sack with a pastry chef twice his age. She was a mighty hellion in the kitchen, but a sensuous and generous lover who gave him a fine introduction to the pleasures he could find between a woman's legs.

But, assuming what Tank had told him was true, Mae did not fit the usual mold of the women he had known in his cheffing career. And that meant that his suspicions might be true. She might really be fabricating this whole righteous indignation thing over Kurt to spare herself the inevitable pain his departure would cause. His instincts about her feelings could be right!

On the other hand, one thing was certainly true. She was dedicated to her job and her career. Did he have the right to ask her to go with him? Was that fair? When he had shared his dream with her she'd asked all the right questions. She had told him she thought the farmhouse and the barn sounded fabulous. They had even discussed the kinds of food he'd have on the menu and the way he should renovate the barn. Nick dared to hope that she would consider a drastic change in the direction of her life and career. They would make a fantastic team. In every way, in all ways. Always.

Nick folded his arms on the desk to make a pillow for his drooping head. In minutes he was asleep. But not before he had made a plan.

***

"Ordering: 33 Bennies. Two florentine. Four crab. Six asparagus. One cajun. That leaves twenty regular--one SOS. Always an asshole in every bunch" Jonesie called the order from room service that had everyone jumping.

Mae reached through the window and took a look at the ticket. Talk about a nightmare of an order! They kept a dozen or so pre-poached eggs for room service every morning and twice that on weekends but they needed 66 poached eggs for this monster. "Who in the hell is up there in those suites?"

"Some entourage for a band descended in the night and decided to play hell with our nice little breakfast service. Rock those pots--NOW!" The expeditor shouted to the dishwasher who was running pots of steaming water from his station to the stove.

Mae saw that Reggie was about to melt down trying to quadruple the Hollandaise recipe. "I'll take the sauce, Reg. You go lay out the English muffins on sheet trays for the salamander. Tank, forget sautéing the ham there's no room on the stove--grill it." She barked at one of the assistants. "Start laying the plates and get the fruit garnish in place. How are we with the fries?"

"Plenty there, chef."

"Thank G
od." Most of the egg dishes on the breakfast menu came with a side of sweet potato home fries and those took a while to pre-cook. "Get the fries on the flat top. We want quality here, people!"

The cooks ran through their sweaty paces like the pros they were. Orders ticked out for other in-room diners and every time eggs Benedict came up Jonsie would call out " Ordering: another fucking plate of Bennies!" and the cooks would groan.

The 33 plates went upstairs on several trolleys accompanied by gallons of Mimosas that had given the bartender his own special hell as their version of the drink was made to order with fresh squeezed juice.

The kitchen reverted to its normal pace and only then did Mae realize that Nick wasn't there. With the frenzy taking place the past forty minutes, she wasn't surprised that she hadn't noticed.
Good
, she thought,
maybe he wants to avoid me, too. There's a big banquet tonight and I can remove myself at dinner to supervise that. I could use at least today to get myself together without having to look at him.

Oh, but I so want to look at him. I want to look at him forever. Those hazel eyes--deep as a tawny forest. That black as night hair. The body that moves so gracefully around mine. He'll be gone so soon and all I want to do right now is drink him in.

"Tank?"

"Yes, Chef?'

"Did Nick say he wasn't coming in this morning?"

"He didn't say. But after last night I'm pretty sure he's nursing a kick-ass hangover."

"Is that so?" Mae had seen Nick slightly tipsy when they'd had a bit too much wine, but she's never seen him drunk.

"I was closing last night and he was in the office getting shit-faced on Kurt's special reserve. Man, that dude was wasted. Wasted and strange."

"What do you mean, 'strange'"

"I don't know what set him off, but he went into this whole weird shtick about you and your...sex life, I guess you'd say. I'm tellin'
you it was bizarre."

Mae did a double take. Did Nick discuss th
eir affair with Tank? Was the "your" part referring to her individually or the two of them? "
My
sex life? How did
my
sex life come up in your conversation?"

"I didn't bring it up, he did. I thought we were talking about working here and the benefits. But he was talking about other kinds of benefits."

"Dish." Mae wasn't sure what to expect.

Tank repeated as much as he could remember of the conversation verbatim. "Honestly, I was ready to punch him. But he was real drunk, Mae. Real drunk. I set him to rights, though."

Mae was apoplectic. What a horse's ass. Drunk or not drunk he had no right to go nosing around with a member of the staff--someone who worked
under
her for goodness sakes--implying that she was a slut. Okay, so maybe she had acted like a slut at first, but surely the past few weeks...

"Thanks for defending my honor, you big clumsy knight."

"Any time, Chef Maybe. You're a slave driver, but I love ya anyway."

Mae went into her corner and flipped open her notebook. She needed to gather her wits about her. Why, in his inebriated state, did Nick start such a ludicrous conversation with Tank? Was he trying to undermine her with the staff? Was he trying to confirm his suspicions about her--or deny them? The whole incident seemed terribly out of character. At least out of the character she had come to know.

They had become friends. What kind of friend gets drunk and starts talking trash about you? Had she made him so angry when she broke it off that he wanted to get back at her? Whatever the motivation, it was completely out of line. She had warned him early on that she worked very hard to maintain a professional relationship and a strong position as
chef de cuisine
for an all male staff. And, quite possibly had it been anyone other than Tank, he might have created quite a hot topic of conversation within the crew. The kind that resulted in lots of leering and speculation. As it was, she was grateful that he chose the one person on the kitchen staff who knew her very well. The entire incident would go no further, she was sure

***

Nick paid the price for killing that bottle of Scotch. He eventually made it back to his suite in the wee small hours and fell into his bed, reeking and reeling. Work in the morning was out of the question. His head was exploding with a force he vaguely remembered having experienced once or twice when he was much younger and far more stupid.

Surprisingly, he had total recall of the evening up to and including his conversation with Tank. His relief at Tank's vigorous defense of Mae's honor and reputation gave him hope that he might possibly be more important to her than she let on. It would explain a great deal about her recent confusing behavior--the over reaction to the fact that he kept his knowledge of Kurt to himself really could be a ruse to get some distance.

It was conceivable. Nick had gotten a scent of something else in their conversation the afternoon when he had 'fessed up about his uncle. Something about her reaction to the entire conversation was just, well, off kilter. He sensed there was an internal dialogue going on with Mae that had nothing to do with the mystery of the missing chef.