Tasteless (14 page)

HELLLLLOOOOOO, CHEF

The Durt

August 11
th
 

Tickets to this year’s “Eat-the-Farm” Festival are sold out.

We repeat, SOLD OUT.

Though the festival has always been kind of a hot ticket, there’s no doubt that it’s feeling particularly high and mighty this year.  Once word got out that the formidably sexy Sam Laurent would not only be attending but
manning
the grills, ETF’s website promptly crashed.

And do you know how we girls got our tickets? Instead of freaking out about the site crashing, we gave the ticket office a call and we PHONED in our order.  That’s right.  We wanted these tickets so bad we were willing to
talk
to someone to get them.  And we did it from a landline too.

You know how I know that this is going to be the effin’ event of the year? Because Sam Laurent is sporting some stubble and a little more muscle than we’re used to.  We saw those pictures of him at Zoe Mercury’s wedding and ooooooh-whee.  Color us impressed.  Unemployment did him good.

COUNTDOWN TO EAT-THE-FARM FEST AKA SAM LAURENT FEST

Celeb-O-Matic

August 15
th
 

You couldn’t avoid Sam Laurent’s face if you wanted to these days.  The man has been running around pimping out his not-yet-launched restaurant so hard and so frequently that you’d think he had clones working for him.  I swear, whatever press circuit they’ve got him on is working but we can’t understand how he’s managing it.

We’ve watched him prepare his mint grapefruit scallop ceviche so many times on so many morning shows that we’ve got the recipe memorized.  We’ve watched him banter with all the late night hosts while playing some asinine game with them, like seeing who could launch a head of cauliflower farthest out of a catapult.  We’ve read interview after interview about how cooking
sous-vide
was definitely something that any ol’ household could do and we are getting
tired
for this man!

And speaking of things that make us tired, Sam Laurent seems to be jumping at every chance he has to mention that forgotten Somerville.  Rye Somerville is the only remaining Somerville sibling at the family restaurant, and according to Sam, she’s pretty much the bee’s freaking knees.

“Rye has been such an inspiration to work with,” Sam gushed.  “Having the privilege to work with her everyday is something I couldn’t be more thankful for.”

Yeah, yeah, Sam.  We’re pretty sure you’re being paid a cool hundo for every time you mention her name.

“Oh God,” Sam groaned, lying on the freshly mowed grass of Damian and Gemma’s backyard.  “I’m so fucking exhausted I could die.”

“Have you moved from this position since I left the house this morning?” Damian asked, poking at Sam’s ribs with his sneakers.

“No, not really,” he replied.  “Gemma got me a beer at some point.  She put two straws together so it’d be long enough to reach my mouth without me holding the bottle.  She’s being super-nice.”

“I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t use my girlfriend as your personal servant,” Damian laughed.

“She wanted to bring me the beer!” Sam exclaimed.  “And it wasn’t like I
told
her to make me that sandwich and feed it to me.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Damian shook his head.  “And you accepted?”

“I was hungry,” he defended himself.  “And she was being a good hostess.”

“Alright,” Damian shrugged.

“Jealous?” Sam teased, lifting his head just a little to look at his friend.  Damian narrowed his eyes at him, smiling.  He was never quite the jealous type, but he also knew that despite his reputation, Sam posed no threat.

“I just don’t want her to think you’re that misogynistic, heartless lothario everyone else thinks you are.”

“Aww, you care about my image.  That’s so cute.”

“Your image is looking pretty good these days,” Damian said.  “Mira’s got you on a crazy press streak.  Warner’s gotta be happy.”

“I haven’t talked to him much,” Sam said, propping his head up on his forearm.  “But he’s happy.  I actually haven’t seen Rye in awhile either.”

“Do you miss her?” Damian smirked.  Sam frowned, furrowing his brows at Damian’s strange expression.

“Yeah, I miss her,” Sam replied.  He pushed himself up to a sitting position, groaning as his sore muscles tried to pull him back.  “What’s with the face?”

“What face?”

“You asked me if I missed her and you made this face.”

“Oh, you mean the one implying you have a crush on her.”

“I don’t do crushes, you know I don’t do crushes.” Sam pointed an accusing finger at Damian.  “If I like what I see, I bring it home.  I’m simple like that.”

“Gemma told me that you talked about her for an hour when you were eating before,” Damian said.  “She said she was afraid you were going to choke on that ham and Swiss sandwich if you didn’t shut up already.”

“She’s exaggerating.  And I take back what I said about her being nice now.”

“Dude, it’s okay if you’re into Rye,” Damian smiled.  “She’s cute and super sweet and you guys have been spending a lot of time together.”

“I’m not into Rye!” he insisted.  “If I were, I would’ve already told you about all the incredible sex we’ve been having.”  As soon as the words left his mouth, he could feel his face get hot.  Damian’s smile dropped as he covered his mouth.

“Oh my God, man,” Damian laughed, trying to muffle it.  “You actually just blushed.”  He threw his head back against the lounge chair, laughing so hard that Sam could feel himself growing embarrassed.  “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I was actually just trying to gauge how real my theory was,” Damian said.  “I wasn’t actually sure you were into her but then your face…”

“Okay, whatever,” Sam said, struggling to get to this feet.  Damian stood to help him up.  “Nope, don’t touch me, I’m mad at you,” Sam muttered as Damian continued laughing, pulling him to his feet anyway.

“Aw, c’mon,” Damian said, calming himself.  “This isn’t high school.  You’re allowed to admit you have feelings for people.  What’s the problem?”

“She’s my co-worker,” Sam shook his head.  “And not my type.”

“That didn’t stop you from going after Gail,” Damian replied.  “And please, Sam Laurent doesn’t have a type.”

“Gail was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made,” Sam said.  “I’ve learned my lesson there, she’s made sure of that.”

“But Rye’s different.  She’s not a fire-breathing dragon.”

“Yeah, she’s like a defenseless little kitten.  That’s not exactly something you lust for.”

“You are lying so hard,” Damian smiled.  “I just think you should make a move if you’re interested.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not like you,” Sam laughed.  “I would never accept being dragged through the friend zone for six years, especially if I were a pro athlete.”  He watched as Damian’s smile twisted into a bit of a frown.

“It was a little more complicated than that,” he replied.  “And I’m telling you that you should get in there before it can get complicated.”

“You seem like one of those ‘worth the wait’ guys,” Sam said.  “So I’m not even sure I can actually take that kind of advice from you.  And I mean, aren’t you still kind of dragging your ass through this? You two aren’t even engaged.”

“I don’t think we ever will be.”

“What?” Sam said, his eyes widening.  “What are you talking about?”

“I honestly think that there isn’t going to be an engagement,” Damian replied.  “At least in the way that most people see it.  I think when we do get married, it’s going to happen like it did the first time.  We’re just going to get married and that’s it.”

“Except not drunk and in Vegas this time, right?”

“Right,” Damian laughed.  “We’ve just been through a lot together and we both know there’s no one else.  We don’t need to ‘put a ring on it’ and make it official and show everyone our intent.  Too much of our relationship has been public and we’re tired of it.”

“I feel like this is a good time to confess that I found the engagement ring you bought her when I was snooping through your closet looking for clothes to borrow yesterday,” Sam confessed.  “So, again, you don’t sound like someone I should be taking any sort of advice from.”

“It’s a wedding ring, not an engagement ring,” Damian smiled.  “And please don’t mention that to anyone.  Oh, and you’re by no means obligated to take my advice.  I just thought I’d be a good friend and tell you the upside of cutting to the chase.”

“So, say like I do have feelings for her,” Sam said.  “If you were me, how would you go about handling it?”

“I’d find a way to tell her directly instead of telling all the reporters that have been interviewing you.”

“Okay, asshole, I get it – everyone sees it but me,” Sam sputtered.  “But what if she doesn’t feel about me the way I feel about her?”

“Then you handle it from there,” Damian shrugged.  “I have six years of advice I can give you about how to deal with that.”

“That sounds like nothing I ever want to do.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see the French doors to the house swinging open.  Gemma stepped out, holding four bottles of beer.

“Am I getting two?” Sam asked as Gemma walked towards them.

“No, this one’s for Rye,” Gemma said, holding the extra bottle away from him.

“Rye?” Damian asked.  “Is she here?”

“Yep,” she replied.  “I invited her over, she’s inside right now changing out of work clothes.  She’s in the city because Aunt Mira’s been trying to convince her to do a couple public appearances too.  You know, because Sam can’t shut up about her.”

“Alright,” Sam rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“So now that you’ve got everyone curious about her, people want to see what she’s like, you know?” Gemma asked.  “It’s natural.”  She winked at him before taking a seat on the lounge chair.  Sam sighed, realizing just how difficult they were going to make his life now that he had semi-confessed to his feelings for Rye.  And as excited as he was to see her, he felt as if the impromptu visit was more like an ambush.

Damian crawled into the lounge chair beside Gemma as they both smiled at him, looking pretty satisfied with themselves.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned.  “You two.”

As if on cue to rescue him, Rye trotted out the French doors.  She was wearing an outfit that he recognized to be Gemma’s, a ribbed white tank top and a pair of floral shorts.  Her normally messy hair was pulled back into a loose bun at the top of her head.  She ran towards him with her arms outstretched, jumping into his arms as she got closer.  Sam held her close, ignoring the knowing faces he knew his friends were making behind him.

“I missed you,” Rye said, touching her nose quickly to his.  She was surprised by her comfort with getting so close to him when it had been awhile since he felt comfortable with it himself.

“I missed you too,” Sam said, enjoying their closeness enough to forget about what Gemma and Damian thought.  “Have you been busy?” He set her down on the grass, admiring how cute she looked in Gemma’s outfit.  And how different.  Though they were about the same height, they definitely weren’t shaped quite the same.  Sam had never quite noticed how curvy Rye actually was when she spent most of her days dressed in oversized clothes.  He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, turning away from her.

Gemma and Damian had apparently made the decision to give Sam and Rye some privacy by pretending to nap.  Sam laughed, amused by their agenda.

“I’m kind of hungry,” Rye said.  “I was so nervous to meet Mira I couldn’t eat a thing.  Also, I was wearing this really uncomfortable pantsuit…”

“You own a pantsuit?”

“No, it was actually my grandmother’s.”

“Do you own any clothes of your own?”

“Sure I do,” she laughed.  “I mean, you’ve seen every outfit I own.”

“It’s refreshing to see you wear something that fits you for once,” he said, pinching at the cotton fabric of her tank top.  She looked down at herself.

“Really?” she asked.  “This feels kind of tight.”  Sam could hear a stifled giggle coming from behind them.

“Uh, let’s get you something to eat,” he said, ushering Rye inside before shooting a dirty look over his shoulder.

~

After three weeks of back-to-back interviews and press events and flying back and forth between New York and Los Angeles, it felt nice to have a day of nothing back at the house.  When he was unemployed, everyday began with him lazing around with a sandwich and a beer, refusing to get up until either Damian or Gemma prodded him awake.  At that point, he would cook something mindlessly in their kitchen, just to make sure he still could, then wrapped up his night with a late-night crawl through the city, looking for someone to take home.  The routine got pretty depressing, especially when he had spent the months before looking forward to his own new restaurant.

But despite the fact that his day had begun similarly, it felt a whole lot different and much more satisfying when he had chosen that routine instead of simply falling into it.  The type of day that had haunted him during his unemployment suddenly felt like a treat and it was made all the better with Rye beside him.  Somewhere between her arrival to the house and her happy acceptance of the linguine with white clam sauce that Sam whipped up for her, he had come to fully accept that he had feelings for Rye.

He watched as she ate, giving little care to how she looked, though she somehow managed to remain adorable even when she somehow managed to get a forkful of pasta in her hair.  Sam even gave himself full permission to stare at her ass as she watched the dishes, wondering how she had hidden her shapely figure from him for so long.  And when they curled up on the couch to watch a Netflix marathon of
The Simpsons,
he convinced his body not to tense up every time she placed a hand on his thigh.  He was also happy for the strategically placed cushion he had on his lap.

“I always thought I was Lisa Simpson growing up,” Rye said.  “But then I realized I’m more like Millhouse.”

“How are you like Millhouse?” Sam laughed.

“I identify with him,” Rye shrugged.  “I don’t know what it is.”

“I always thought I was Bart.”

“Because you
are.
”

Sam looked at the clock.  It was almost midnight.  Back on his days of nothing, this would be the hour that he’d narrowing down which girl to bring home.  Ever since living with Gemma and Damian, he tried to be respectful by limiting his guests to one at a time.  Threesomes would always be held elsewhere.  He furrowed his brows, wondering how turned off Rye would be if she knew the details of his history.  After all, he was managing to surprise even himself for not making a move on her.  There was an innocence to her that reminded him of high school, back when he was a fifteen-year-old virgin who had somehow gotten himself a date with the captain of the cheerleading squad.  Kaylani was a junior and breathtakingly stunning with her lithe, bronze limbs and wavy black hair that reached her waist.  She wore it in a thick braid that swung back and forth in the most hypnotic manner, taunting all the boys who followed her.  The very first night they slept together, he was curled up with Kaylani on a couch, watching television together at a friend’s house.  He sat there frozen and nervous until she finally reached over and made the first move.

Ten years later, he found himself in a similar situation.  Though he was not nearly as nervous compared to his teen self, his adult self was sorely disappointed with his behavior.  Sam was too aware of all the sensations that surrounded him – the warmth of Rye’s body up against his, her breath on his shoulder, his hand on her hip.  If it were any other girl, they would have been on their second round by now.