Take Me Home Tonight (8 page)

Setting the pepper down on a plate, she headed for the offal. As she peered into the white paper, she forced herself not to make a face, but God, the shiny, dark red—almost black—mass of—“What
is
that?”

Calix snatched it away, and they both burst out laughing.

Great. They were teasing her. “Thanks, guys.”

“Looks like you got a challenge here, Calix.” With her three items—yogurt, carrots, and granola bar—Jo started out of the kitchen.

When Calix tensed, she plunged her hands into the slimy mess. Just to keep Jo's interest.
Oh, my God, it's disgusting
. “What could I do with this?” She turned to Jo. “What would
you
do with it?”

“Make a broth,” Jo answered easily. “If it were me, I wouldn't give a judge anything to eat I wouldn't eat myself. Use it for a sauce or a broth. A gravy—and then strain it. Don't make them eat an eyeball or anything that'll make 'em gag.”

“You're so right. I would never have thought of that. Thank you.”

Jo looked pretty exhausted, as she gave a nod to Calix, and then headed out of the room.

Worried she'd let him down, she tried again to hold on to Jo's attention. “Can you—” But Calix's hand closed around her arm, and he shook his head.

“That was great,” he said quietly. “A good start.”

“You're right. I'm an all-or-nothing kind of girl. But you're right. It's our first day, and she definitely showed interest.”

He didn't immediately drop her hand, and the warm pressure made her pulse kick up. Slowly, one side of his mouth curled into the most delicious smile. It made her breath go shallow and her heart flutter.

But then he let her go and headed to the French doors. “Hey, Ma?”

Mimi waited, listening.

“The band's gonna have a listening party. Thought we'd do a clambake. You good to show Mimi how to do it?”

Mimi didn't hear his mom's response, but she couldn't miss Calix's deep, sexy voice. “Cool, thanks. Tomorrow?” And then he came back into the kitchen.

Holy mother of God, when Calix smiled, her heart nearly exploded. He came right up to her and gave her a swat on the butt.

“Hey.”

“This is good, Meems. Real good. And she won't have to do anything in the kitchen. It's outside, on the beach. That'll make it easier for her.”

“I'm glad.” She pretended to rub her butt. “Now leave my ass out of it.”

Standing beside her, he leaned back, peering down at her ass. “Not possible.”

“Calix Bourbon, are you flirting with me?”

And just like that, his good humor switched off. “Nah. Just playin'.”

“I know. I've met your girlfriend.”

“My what?”

“Uh, Shay?”
The woman you were massively excited about?

He pressed his lips together, giving her a stern look. “She's not my girlfriend.”

“I saw—”

“Not what you thought.” He reached for the charred pepper. “Let's get back to work. This is perfect. You want to peel it?”

“Sure.” Why'd she have to go and bring up the whole girlfriend thing? She liked playful Calix.

“So, let's talk about what happens when things go wrong. Like when you've got thirty minutes to make a dessert and the cream curdles.”

“Oh, I've got desserts down. That's the one thing I know how to cook. Besides, we don't do desserts until the fifth episode.”

“I'm not talking about dessert specifically. Just about understanding how things work. The chemistry. I was using dessert to illustrate a point. You with me?”

“Totally.” The burned bits peeled off, she set the juicy red pepper back on the plate and rinsed her hands.

“You know why cream curdles?”

“No. But it makes me nervous not knowing when it's going to go from almost perfect to ruined.”

“Exactly. You don't want shit like that happening on the show when you've got thirty minutes to get something done and plated. If you understand what's going on, you won't screw it up.”

“Okay.”

“When you beat the cream, you're creating air bubbles. As it's whipping, the fat's distributed among the bubbles, and that causes them to stick together and create foam. Make sense?”

“Yep.”

“Good. So the fat particles need to be cold in order to stick together. So what do you do to make sure you don't ruin the whipped cream? The minute the clock starts, you put the beaters and bowl in the fridge—or freezer, given the time. You put the cream at the back of the fridge.”

This was such good information. She wouldn't have known to do that. “Got it.”

“Hey, you guys, how's the lesson going?” Lee stood in the doorway. With her platinum hair and petite frame, she looked like a princess who'd gotten kidnapped by a biker gang. Terrence came in behind her, carrying burlap bags.

“Calix?” Terrence's tight expression led Mimi to believe he was less concerned about the lesson than his wife's response to it. When Calix grinned, his dad's features relaxed, and he looked a hundred times less intimidating.

She stepped toward them. “Hey, Lee. Terrence.” She gave each one a hug. “This guy's been amazing. You can tell your mom all that homeschooling stuck. And if that's not enough, he convinced her to show me how to do a clambake tomorrow.”

Terrence's gaze slid to Calix, and the two of them shared a deeply relieved and hopeful look. It melted her heart to see both of these huge men turn soft over their fervent interest in Jo's recovery.

“You guys wanna beat it so we can finish?” Calix said. “I gotta get Mimi back to the farm so she can make dinner.”

“I'm starving,” Lee said. “Haven't eaten all day. What do you have here?” She headed to the counter with the butcher paper packages of ham hock and offal.

“Got some real tasty treats for you, Lee.” Calix swiped one of the bags up before she could see it.

“I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him,” Mimi said.

Lee eyed her brother warily. “I think I'm gonna go with Mimi on this one.”

“Smart girl.” Calix picked up a kidney and waved it in front of Lee's face.

“You're disgusting. Get that away from me.” Lee shrieked and took off, Calix chasing after her with the organ.

Mimi turned to find Terrence watching her with an expression filled with warmth—and maybe even gratitude.

She smiled back, hoping very much she didn't let him down.

But, really, what could go wrong? It was just a few cooking lessons.

A strong breeze rippled the ocean as Mimi watched the horizon turn from pale yellow to a deep, bruised peach. Cold water rushed around her ankles, catching the fabric of her maxi dress and tugging it.

“Got some more.” Lee scooped seaweed from the water and trudged toward shore.

Farther away, Jo worked in silence, scouring the sea.

A shrill whistle had her turning around to find Terrence waving at them from the pit they'd dug. Mimi gathered her kelp and hauled it over to their encampment.

“Good stuff.” Terrence relieved her of her load. “Now we're gonna lay it out on top of these stones.” His deep, hoarse voice sounded like it hurt to speak. That, and his intimidating size, made a strange contrast to the gentle kindness in his eyes.

Together they stretched the heavy, wet plant out in strips across the steaming stones. She loved that he'd take the time to do this clambake with her. Why hadn't she and her dad done projects together like this?

Fear plucked at her heart. What had she been thinking
rejecting the Miami job? He'd made it clear what she needed to do to get hired, and then she'd refused to even consider it.

Well, she'd been thinking she'd already done everything he'd asked her to do, and after all these years, it still hadn't resulted in a job.

So why wouldn't she try a different path? She didn't believe for a second his team would think less of her for doing the competition. But even more—she wanted to do it. After a lifetime of doing things his way, she wanted to forge her own path.

In her gut, she believed it would lead her to her dad.

“Perfect.” Terrence sat back on his heels to examine their work.

“Make sure you get the guys to dig the hole and heat up the stones.” Dropping her load of seaweed, Jo wiped her hands on her jeans. “You'll have enough to do with decorating and preparing the food.”

As Jo dropped into a beach chair, Mimi studied her. While she could tell the woman had been pretty in her younger days, the map of creases on her skin revealed a life lived hard and fast.

But Mimi knew this project had sparked something in her. Jo's normally dull tone had grown livelier as she'd shown Mimi how to wash the clams and prepare the cheesecloth nests of food. And her husband? Terrence had been there every step of the way, his love for his wife clear in the way he looked at her. And he'd made it fun—cracking them all up as he showed Mimi how to debeard mussels.

“I'm starving.” Lee collapsed into a beach chair. “Haven't eaten all day.”

Mimi shot her a look over her shoulder. “Grab something from the cooler.”

“She never eats,” Jo said.

“Uh, you should talk,” Lee said right back.

Jo's eyes rounded, clearly ready to get into it with her daughter, but Terrence broke the tension when he burst out laughing. “She got you there.”

“I don't even understand not eating,” Mimi said. “I'm Italian, and I eat like every meal is Thanksgiving.”

“Believe me,” Lee said. “I eat.”

“I'll tell you why she doesn't eat,” Terrence said. “She's waiting for someone to make her something.”

“Are you serious?” Mimi asked.

Lee kicked up a little sand with her toes. “What? So I don't cook.”

“Spoiled, more like.” Terrence grinned at his wife. “Her mom made her breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day of her life.”

“Hm, maybe
you
should be the one taking the cooking lessons,” Mimi said.

“Forget it.” Lee tipped her head back, opening her mouth wide.

“What the hell're you doing?” Jo said.

“I'm a baby bird, waiting for you to feed me.”

Jo leaned over, stuck a hand in the basket, and pulled out a baguette. She tore off the end and tossed it to her daughter. “There. You're fed.”

“Thanks, Ma.” Lee bit into the bread. “Yum. What else you got?”

“See for yourself.” Jo slid lower in the chair and closed her eyes.

Reaching into a straw basket, Lee hauled out plastic containers of hummus and sliced vegetables.

“Let's get the food on here now,” Terrence said.

Jo pulled a clear plastic bag of Quahog clams out of a cooler. Her long, shaggy hair spilled forward, and she tried to whip it back with a toss of her head. While she took out a bag of mussels, Terrence made his way around the pit to stand behind her, gathering her hair into a ponytail. Jo flinched at his touch, and Terrence froze, hurt momentarily gripping his features.

Mimi looked away, hating to see the man's touch rebuked. But then Lee pulled an elastic off her wrist and tossed it to her dad. He caught it in his huge palm and tied back his wife's hair. Smoothing a hand down the ponytail, Jo thanked him, then got up and brought the bags to the pit.

After spreading out the cheesecloth bundles of potatoes, onions, and carrots, they added another layer of seaweed.
Then, the four of them spread out the shellfish, topping it with more kelp. Finished, they covered the pit with a tarp.

“Shame we don't have corn on the cob,” Terrence said.

“Wrong season.” Jo sat back in her chair. “Besides, we're just showing her how to do it.”

“Looks good,” Terrence said in his grumbly voice.

“Hey.” Gus came down the stairs, carrying his laptop. “So, listen, I think I got the Zaranov Vodka account today.” His bare feet kicked out sand as he headed toward them.

“Good.” Terrence's big body landed in a beach chair.

“Oh, yeah, it's awesome.” Gus sounded frustrated. “My first contract in months.” He wore his dark hair shorter than Calix's but long enough that a lock fell across his eyes. No question he was as handsome as his older brother with those dark eyes and caramel-colored skin, but he didn't have the same intensity. He didn't smolder.

“Good thing we're not looking for the income.” Terrence gave his son a hard look, and man, if he'd looked at her like that, she'd have gotten the message to shut the hell up.

“Cool, but I've got to do something other than get turned down.” Gus snapped his laptop closed. “I don't know why I waste my time.”

“Not wasting time,” Terrence said. “There's more to do than merchandising and licensing.”

“You know that's the bulk of what I do each day.”

“I'm sorry, what exactly do you do, Gus?” Mimi sat cross-legged in the sand, facing the Bourbons. “You're, what, twenty-three? Around my age?”

“Yeah.”

“Where'd you go to college?”

She couldn't miss the snap of tension between his parents and Gus. Oh, crap. She'd stepped in it again.

“I didn't.”

“He started at Julliard,” Terrence said.

“I dropped out.”

Three years ago he'd have been twenty—ah, of course. He'd dropped out because of Hopper. And, oh, crap, that would explain why Lee wasn't doing fashion or decorating.

Life had come to a screeching halt for this family.

“So now I run the 100 Proof LLC.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“I take care of all the business things that still go on from my parent's music. Licensing, merchandising, stuff like that.”

“That sounds interesting. I guess you're not a musician?”

“I play, but I like the technical side more. Mixing and spinning.”

“And you're good at it. What you played me last night was really cool. Can you do that for a career?”

“There's a lot I could do.” Gus leaned forward, his eyes alight with excitement. “I could be a DJ or work in a studio.”

Plenty of clubs in the Hamptons used DJs. And, of course, the obvious solution—Slater's studio was half an hour away on the North Fork.

She shot Terrence a questioning look. Seemed
too
obvious, so she should probably keep her mouth shut. Wait, what was she thinking? Calix worked at the studio every day, so it had to be all right. “Why don't you work with Blue Fire?”

He had boyish good looks, but in that moment he looked like a kid holding a present in the shape of what he'd asked for. His excitement leveled, though, and he looked at his laptop. “I'm not trained at anything. I only mess around.”

“Don't they already have a recording engineer?” Lee asked.

“Yeah, but she actually works with Dak,” Mimi said. “So, once Blue Fire finishes this—”

“They'd never hire me. I don't have the skills they need.”

“Would you want to be a gofer? That way you'll learn some skills, get some experience.”

“Hell, yeah. You think they'd let me do that?”

“I don't see why not. I can ask them when I go home.”

“Will you?” Gus looked so excited she had to smile. Funny, how they were nearly the same age, but he had the exuberance of a much younger man.

“Of course I will.” But when she looked to the others to share her amusement, she found nothing but tension. Oh, crap. But Calix worked with the band. He worked in the studio every day. How was Gus doing the same thing bad?

“You got a business to run.” Terrence's tone indicated the subject was closed.

Mimi fixed her attention on Jo, who'd gone perfectly still, the beer bottle clutched in both hands.

“I can do both at the same time,” Gus said. “I want to do it.”

“You wanna get coffee for the guys?” Terrence asked. “Fetch Dak his slippers? From what I hear, the guy's a dick.”

“Stop trying to talk me out of it. I want to do it.”

“You guys—” Lee began.

“Let him do it.” Jo got up.

Terrence watched his wife with concern.

“Let him do it.” Jo said it more softly this time. Pain spread like a slow leak across her features. And then she lowered her head. “I need a smoke.” She headed down the beach.

“Damn.” Gus got up, starting after his mom.

“It's okay. I got it.” Terrence gave his son a tired smile and then went after his wife.

“Dad,” Gus shouted. Terrence turned to him. “Can I do it?”

His dad drew in a heavy breath and rubbed his chin with a hand. “Yeah, boy. You can do it.” He started to go, but he turned back to his son, stabbing a finger at him. “But don't you fuck this up, you get me?”

“Yeah. I get you.”

“This isn't about partying. It's about learning. We clear?”

Gus nodded, barely containing his enthusiasm.

Mimi sat there, not quite sure what she'd done but wishing she could take it back.

*   *   *

Ben
was in the pocket. From the control room, Calix watched the drummer shred. Perspiration dripped down his face, as his arms stroked, head thrashing, replaying the same beat for the tenth time that day.

Beside him, Derek sorted through a stack of papers, smirking when he found the one he wanted. Pressing it to the laminated glass, he waved to get Ben's attention.

“Let me see it,” Cooper said.

“Hey.” Dak shifted the headphones off one ear. “Don't interrupt him.”

But Calix knew—along with the other guys—that Ben was wasting his time in there. Dak gave too many conflicting instructions.
Try it this way, no, no, try it that way, no, that's not right
. Jesus, how had the guy ever done a successful album?

As soon as Dak had the headphones back on, Derek flashed the sheet of paper to the others. Everyone burst out laughing at the crudely drawn image of a confused face—two oval eyes, a half-circle mouth turned upside down, and a question mark sticking out the top of the head.

Cooper waved to get Ben's attention, as Derek plastered the sheet to the glass again.

Ben halted mid-thrash, as he focused on the paper. Tossing his sticks, he gave the finger, threw off his headphones, and shoved his kit back as he got up.

He burst into the control room. “This sucks.”

Dak stood up, shrugging off his headphones. “Grab some water. We'll break for ten then try it again.”

“Try
what
again? I don't know what you want me to do. It's all fucked up in my head.”

Someone rapped on the door. “Hey.” Gus peered into the control room and then entered.

What the hell was his brother doing in the studio?

“Got the screens,” Gus said to Dak. “They should be here in about ten days.”

Dak barely looked up at him. “I need them now.”

Eagerness turned to concern. “Okay. I can rush delivery, but they don't have the five-panel acrylic screen in stock. Rush might get them here in seven days instead of ten.”

“Rush.”

“It's expensive.”

Dak shot him a challenging look.

“On it.” Gus fled the control room, and Calix took off after him.

He caught up with his brother in the lounge. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Gus pulled out the chair and sat down in front of
the computer. He tapped out a few words and then
Acoustic Screens Soundproofing Solutions
filled the screen.

“What's going on?”

“Mimi got me a job here.” He looked happier than Calix had seen in a long damn time. “I'm a gofer.”

“What're you talking about? How'd that even come up?”

“Mom was doing that clambake yesterday, and Mimi asked why I'm not DJ-ing or something.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with working
here
?”

“Come on.” Gus got up so swiftly, the chair shot back. “My job is bullshit, and you know it. What kind of licensing deals do you think I'm getting on a band that broke up twenty years ago?”

“Hey, I get it.” Of course it wasn't right that Gus got stuck doing a job he didn't want. That he hadn't gotten to finish college.

“Look, I'm not going anywhere.” Gus leaned forward, like he needed Calix to understand. “I'm not bailing on Mom, but how much longer are we supposed to put our lives on hold?”