Taste of Love
Building Something Hot
Miles of Pleasure
Out of the Friendzone
Taste of Love. 1st Edition Copyright © Stephanie Nicole Publishing 2013. All Rights Reserved.
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Other Books By Stephanie Nicole
M
adison looked in the mirror as she brushed her long brown hair, gathering it all in one hand. She put the brush down, and after a series of twists and turns, her hair was in the ever present sloppy bun that she always wore to work.
Madison's thoughts were running through what needed to get done. All the meat had been ordered the previous day, but the produce order had yet to be placed. She mentally listed off the specials that they would be having over the next week. She would have to compile a list of fruits and vegetables tonight at work.
What else? The new bartender. She was going to have to sit down and have a little chat with him about his attitude toward the male patrons. He was great with the women, even though his flirting tended to get a little out of hand, but he was distant with the men that sat at the bar. He treated them as though they were an inconvenience to him, even though it was likely costing him tips.
Yup, he definitely needed an attitude adjustment, and if he didn't like it, there were plenty of others lining up for his job.
Madison took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied with her appearance, she returned to her bedroom to finish getting dressed. She wore the same thing, day after day. Black pants, black shirt. Her black chef coat was waiting at the restaurant for her. There was no need to bring it home, for each day all of the laundry was sent out to be cleaned.
Finally Madison was ready to head out the door. She walked the twelve blocks to her restaurant, taking the same comfortable route that she took every day. Along the way, she waved to the people she knew; the corner florist outside watering her stock, the older gentleman that worked the newsstand outside of her favorite coffee shop, the guy that sold the knock-off purses the block over from her restaurant. In a city as big as New York, it was nice that there were some constants, people that you could count on seeing every day.
As she rounded the corner, Madison noticed a small crowd milling around the entrance to her restaurant. She quickly checked her watch and noted that she was three minutes late. She quickened her pace a little, digging through her shoulder bag to find her keys.
"Hey guys, sorry I'm late. I must have been daydreaming on the way here." Madison apologized as she unlocked the door to The TigerLily, the restaurant that she had owned for the past year.
"Three minutes late boss, you're slipping! What kind of example are you setting for the rest of us?" the head waiter asked.
Madison looked at Austin. He was a foot taller than her, and worked out every morning before he came into work. Next to him, she looked like a tiny bird who should be intimidated. Instead, she stood straighter and looked him right in the eye. "I'm quite certain I slip up less than you. And don't forget who signs your paychecks."
A collective "oooh" rose from the employees standing in the street.
Austin nodded in agreement. The rest of the employees headed inside to get started on their opening duties. They were used to the playful banter between the two friends.
Austin held the door open for Madison, smiling as she passed under his arm. "You win. You always win."
"And don't you forget it," she smiled. "Now get to work."
She tried to sound like she was giving harsh orders, but Austin was the one person that she didn't need to tell what to do. He had been her friend since high school and her head waiter since she opened the doors to the restaurant. He was truly one of the hardest workers she had ever met, and the only one that Madison entrusted the restaurant to in her rare times of absence.
While the rest of the employees busied themselves preparing to open for the day, Madison went to her office to get a few things done. She placed her produce and liquor orders, then printed out all of the employee checks. Knowing that they would not need her in the kitchen for a few hours, she busied herself paying bills. As constant as the movement seemed in the kitchen and floor of the restaurant, it was just as busy in the back office, where the piles of paperwork seemed to multiply like rabbits the moment she turned her back.
Just before the start of the dinner crowd, Madison called the new bartender into her office. She expected his reaction to be defensive, so she was prepared to nip it in the bud with some serious leverage. She told him that he only had one last chance to prove himself. She had a stack of bartender applications on her desk, where he could clearly see them. The message was clear: many would love to have his job, so it was time for him to straighten up his act. There was no way she was going to put up with someone who didn't treat her customers well.
Madison had always made a conscious effort to insist that her staff be polite and respectful. There had been too many times when she had dined at an upscale restaurant where she was treated horribly and vowed to never go back. Her business was finally starting to flourish, and she couldn't afford to jeopardize that with staff that wasn't on the same page of customer service.
After the meeting, Madison grabbed her chef jacket and went to the kitchen to assist the other chefs. She looked striking, even though her outfit was so simple. Black was definitely her color. Unlike the others who wore black on black, Madison had white piping following the edges of her jacket, making her stand out from the rest.
Orders began pouring in, keeping everyone in the restaurant on their toes. Whenever they got caught up in the kitchen, Madison would slip out to the dining room and greet her guests, making sure that everyone's meals were created to their satisfaction. She liked to add that personal touch whenever possible, and she had made friends with quite a few of the regulars by doing this.
People rarely left her restaurant dissatisfied. That was just one reason why The TigerLily was rapidly becoming one of the trendiest restaurants in New York City.
Cameron Rome sat in his manager's office and stared out at the beautiful view overlooking Central Park. But he was too mad to really see it. "This is shit, Riley! The songs they are asking me to do are ridiculous. I'm twenty-five fucking years old and they want me to sing about some teenage love? What the hell?" He ran his hands through his black, short and spiky hair.
"Look Cameron, calm down. I'm sure it isn't that bad," Riley Sage told his client. He was used to Cameron's rants.
"It isn't that bad? Tell me what it would sound like for me to sing these lyrics. 'Baby let me hold your hand while we walk on the beach in the sand, I want to look into your eyes all day, we'll be together, we'll find a way.' Come on! It sounds like we are two kids, and our parents don't want us to date. I'm a man, Riley! If I'm going to sing about a woman, it's going to be about us fucking or something." Cameron's voice was getting louder and louder.
Riley took a deep breath. Sure, the lyrics weren't the best, but they weren't horrible. "I'll see what I can do. Besides, it's not like that song will be released as a single, it'll just be a filler track."
"You're missing the point! I'm too old to be singing the bubble gum shit." Cameron pounded his fist on Riley's desk as his fury finally overflowed his common sense. "Fix this or there is no record!"
Before Riley could reply, Cameron stormed out of his office and slammed the door.
He stomped past the receptionist and out into an empty hallway. He stood waiting for an elevator that felt like it would never get there. Impatience took over, and he repeatedly pushed the down arrow, as if by some miracle it would make the elevator arrive sooner. When the doors opened he rushed in, not waiting for the occupants to get off first, and then pointedly ignored their New York glares.
As he got into the hired car that was waiting for him, Cameron's phone rang. When he saw the number on the screen, he groaned. Could this day get any worse? But if he didn't answer, she would call again and again.
Cameron sighed as he answered.
"Cameron dear, how are you doing?" his mother asked sweetly.
"I'm fine, Mother," he said. She always expected such formality, which didn't fit his rocker image. He didn't bother to put any sweetness into his voice - he didn't care if she knew he was perturbed. She probably wouldn't care anyway.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?" he asked.
"I wanted to remind you that you promised to go out with Janey Tollar's niece tonight. Remember, she's new in town, so show her around a little. But be nice, and mind your manners. And so help me God, if I find out that you were rude or upset her in any way..."
"I know, Mother!" His outburst stopped her rant in mid-sentence. "Relax, I'll take her out and be the proper young man." He watched some kids shooting baskets as the car waited at a light.
"You better. Pick her up at eight o'clock. I'll e-mail you her address. I've made reservations for you at this new restaurant called The TigerLily. They have the best Coq Au Vin. I went there last week with Rachel Provost, it was the first time I'd ever been there, and let me tell you it won't be the last. I had the Coq Au Vin and she had the lobster; both were absolutely delectable. And the dessert, oh the dessert!"
"Mom! I get the picture."
"Oh. I was going to ask, before you so rudely interrupted, if you have enough money to pay for the both of you. It does tend to get a little expensive, and it would be preposterous to ask her to pay for her own."
"Mother! My last album went double platinum. I think I can more than afford a couple of dinners," he bit back at her. She would never see how successful and famous he was because she wore blinders when it came to his singing career. She was from old money, and nothing he ever did could compare to the ideals she was raised with.
