Tasteless (8 page)

“Do you have any other siblings?”

“No, but I have a whole lots of cousins that might as well be siblings since we all grew up together,” Sam smiled.  “I totally have you beat in the big family department.”  Rye tilted her head, as if she was surprised that the two of them could have anything in common.

“Of everybody, why did you decide to name the restaurant after your sister?” Rye asked.  “Did she just have the nicest-sounding name or something?”

“I guess,” Sam laughed.  “But it was actually because I promised her I would name her after something I was proud of one day.”  He stopped for a moment, realizing this was the most he had ever spoken of his family in awhile.

“So she must have been pretty happy to see you kept your promise.  And pretty angry when you got kicked out.”

“She would have been,” Sam nodded.  “But really all she wanted was to live forever somewhere because she couldn’t do it in her own body… so I guess this still works.”

Sam exhaled, angry and immediately embarrassed that he had allowed himself to say so much.  He had never spoken those words aloud before, although the promise to his sister was well known among his family.  He wondered why he had chosen to blurt it out now, in front of Rye of all people.  But then again, he did always get drunk faster on sparkling wine and talked too much when he was upset.

He could feel Rye’s hands slide across the table and wrap around his.  He looked up to see her elbows resting on her cutlery, the tablecloth wrinkling beneath her weight as she stretched forward to touch him.  It was apparently her snap reaction to reach out and comfort him, even if it wasn’t natural for her to find sympathy for him.  Though he didn’t doubt that she was being genuine, she looked quite awkward.

And for some reason, Sam couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

Rye looked startled, letting go immediately as she sat back down.  Her look of confusion was quickly replaced by anger.

“Oh my God, was that all a joke? Were you just fucking with me?”

“No!” Sam exclaimed.  “I would never joke about my dead sister, Jesus.”

“Then why are you laughing, you sicko!” she said, her voice hushed and hurried.

“I don’t know,” he said as he covered his mouth.  “I’m sorry.  You just looked kind of silly right now.”

“Well
sorry
for being touched by your story,” Rye exclaimed.

“I haven’t told anyone that story since I left for college,” Sam explained.  “And back then, I didn’t even know that I’d be going into the restaurant industry.”  Rye’s shoulders relaxed as she leaned back against her chair, apparently open to listening to him again.

“What did you think you were going to be?”

“I was going to go into finance,” Sam said.  “But I was just thinking about the money and how easy that would make my life and my family’s.”

“So what made you change your mind?”

“My mom,” he shrugged.  “She knew I’d be miserable and she knew I always liked cooking but didn’t think it could make money because our family restaurant barely got by.”  Rye’s eyes widened.

“Your family has a restaurant too?” Rye asked.  “I feel like that’s something you should have told me.  I mean, you should understand then.  Why I want to do things the way I do.”

“Unlike your family, the restaurant didn’t pad our checking accounts and get us gigs on television.  It was just a constant struggle,” he continued.  Sam could feel himself getting agitated.  There was a reason why he never liked talking about himself.

“But
you
got a gig on television,” Rye said.  “And a six-figure cash prize is pretty nice padding.”

“And I put it all in this project,” Sam said.  “And then they took it from me.”

“How is that even allowed?” Rye asked, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and perhaps, understanding the injustice.  “How could they take
everything
from you like that.  Why couldn’t they at least give you back your money or the name of the restaurant? Did you tell them what you told me?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, you should have fought for it.”

“Unlike you, fighting every little battle isn’t exactly the best way to lead a happy life,” Sam said.

“I don’t think this is something little,” Rye shook her head.

“Can we talk about something else?” Sam asked.  “Anything, please.  Ask me about the number of women I’ve slept with or my most embarrassing high school memory.  I’ll talk about
anything
else.”

“How about we talk about you not answering my calls?” a raspy voice said from behind the ivy wall.  All six feet of Gail Geddes came around the corner, dressed in her usual summer “uniform” of a skintight sleeveless turtleneck dress.  She had cut her black hair into a severe bob that skimmed her sharp jawline and painted her lips a threatening red.  Her icy blue eyes bore into Sam’s.  “I called and called to
personally
invite you to come visit the place only to be told by Grayson that you were actually
waiting
for a table with the rest of that desperate herd.”

“Hi Gail,” Sam said.  “It’s good to see you again.”

“Oh, you don’t have to lie,” Gail laughed, running her red talons through his hair.  “I’m just happy to see you came around and decided to take a look at what we’ve done.”

“You did a good job,” Sam replied in a flat, even tone.  Gail leaned forward, putting her lips to his ears.

“As you can see,” she hissed.  “We did just fine without you.”

“Gail, this is Rye,” Sam said, ignoring her.  Gail turned her frosty glare on Rye.

“Nice to meet you,” Rye replied, her voice suddenly several octaves below its regular register.  Both Sam and Gail looked on in confusion as Rye put her arms up on the back of her chair in an apparent attempt to look bigger.

“Rye,” Gail repeated.  “Are you Sam’s girlfriend?”

“Nope,” she replied, continuing in that gruff voice.  “Just his co-worker.”

“Oh, right,” Gail gleaned.  “You’re one of those Somervilles.”

“That I am,” Rye nodded, leaning forward and puffing up her shoulders.  Sam furrowed his brows, trying not to laugh at the sudden odd display.  She looked particularly ridiculous in her childish pink dress.

“Alright,” Gail said, looking irritated and confused by Rye.  “I have to make my rounds.  I’ll be back to check on you later.”  She turned on her heel, walking back to the main dining area.

“Yes, thank you, bye!” Rye called out.  As soon as Gail was out of sight, Rye let out a big whoosh of air as she held her hands to her abdomen.

“What the hell was that?” Sam laughed, turning to her.  “Why the weird voice and why were you sitting like a biker?”

“I don’t know!” Rye said, her voice back to its normal pitch as she leaned back onto the table.  “She was
scary
and that was the first thing I could think of.  Like a fight or flight response.”  Sam laughed even harder, totally baffled by Rye’s behavior and even more so, her response.

“I can tell you that probably wouldn’t work if you ran into a bear.”

“Was she was the one who fired you?”

“Yes,” Sam said.  “And as you can see, sometimes you can’t really fight back.”

“Can’t you find a lawyer to sue her?” Rye asked.  “You know, from the safety of a padlocked office somewhere?”

“Not without looking like a pariah in the food industry,” he replied.  “Gail Geddes isn’t exactly someone you want to piss off.  I learned that the hard way.”

“I want to ask why again but I feel like you would have told me already if you wanted to.”

“You’re catching on,” he smiled.  “And I think I did enough talking about myself for the day.  Now it’s your turn.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the most interesting person.”

“I know, but I wanted to be polite.”

“Wow,” Rye scoffed.  “Fine, for that I’m going to tell you the most boring story I can think of.”

“You can’t possibly bore me more than you normally do.”

“Stop!” Rye laughed.  Sam cocked his head.  It was the first time she had taken well to one of his jokes.

“Alright,” he smiled.  “How about we trade facts about ourselves.  I’ll start.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“I’m a cat person.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that,” Rye said, nodding.  “I’m a dog person.”

“When I was five, I stole my uncle’s chocolate cake that he had been saving for the end of a really difficult work week.  I never owned up to it and never forgave myself.”

“Aw,” Rye laughed.  “Okay, well.  There’s an episode of
Days of Somertime
in the second season where Basil gets in trouble for breaking our fishbowl and accidentally killing our goldfish.  But it was actually me and I let him take the blame.”

“Wow, that’s pretty bad,” Sam replied.

“I’ve forgiven myself,” she shrugged.

“Okay, I got another one.  Damian and I were the only ones stuck in the dorms for Thanksgiving one year so I cooked us a whole turkey using his desk lamp and some old DVDs.”

“That doesn’t sound real.”

“Why would I like about that?” Sam smiled.

“Okay, well I’ve never left the Northeast,” Rye said.  “I travel so little and know so little about geography that New Jersey feels like the Deep South to me.”  Sam laughed, charmed by Rye’s sudden openness.  He couldn’t help but think that their first meeting should have gone down something like this.

“Why don’t you travel more?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Rye replied, lowering her lashes as she ran her fingers down the stem of the champagne flute.  “I don’t really have anyone to do it with.”

“You have your family.”

Rye laughed a quick laugh before shaking her head.  “They’re all too busy.”  He reached out towards the bottle of champagne to refill her glass, but there were only a couple sips left.

“Okay, my turn,” he said, returning the empty bottle to the bucket.  “I’m an ordained minister in two states.”  He glanced back over just in time to catch her peering up, looking almost ashamed.  She sat up straight, clearing her throat as she wrung her hands together.  “Uh, Rye, it’s not a big deal that you’re not well-traveled.  You can still fix that.”

“I really want our restaurant to be great,” she blurted out, looking him dead in the eyes.

“Of course,” Sam replied, confused at the abrupt end of their little game.

“For the both of us,” she continued.  “It’s not fair what they did to you here and I want you to show them what they’ve lost.”

“And we’ll do that,” he shrugged, truly baffled now by the sudden shift in their conversation.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been difficult.  I mean, I know I have been.”  Rye looked up, touching a hand to the corner of her eye.  Sam could see that she was tearing up, but he wasn’t sure when it had started.  Perhaps she was pretty drunk as well.  “But I won’t be anymore, I promise.”

“What’s with this sudden… declaration?”

“I don’t know,” she said.  “I feel bad.  I think I thought you were someone else and I just didn’t really understand.  So I decided I’d fight you before I even really knew who you were.  But I was just scared over what you were going to do to our diner and I swear I’m not this awful person that you’ve been seeing.”

“Okay, it’s alright,” Sam let out a gentle laugh, reaching forward to wipe a tear that had run down her cheek.  “So we got off on a bad start.  It’s not too late to set things straight.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, sighing before fanning a hand beside her face.  “I’m looking forward to that.”

Chapter 5

WARNER SOMERVILLE
REPORTEDLY UP AGAINST MADELINE RIKER FOR LAST SPOT ON
CELEBRITY SAMBA

The Pop Source

July 1
st

The former reality show star and current celebrity analyst are reportedly head-to-head for the last and coveted open position at
Celebrity Samba,
the popular primetime show hosted by Gustavo Sousa where television personalities dance their way to the championship position.  Former season winners include child star, Marco Donovan, who reported a nice career bump immediately following the show.

Rye tried not to get too upset when her father canceled their plans for dinner Sunday night.  He was stuck in Los Angeles, working as usual.  She had already finished prepping the ingredients when she got a call from him, saying he had skipped his flight to take an important meeting.

So she cooked alone in her little home kitchen, preparing her grandfather’s favorite Sunday recipe of breakfast-for-dinner casserole and her grandmother’s rum raisin bread pudding.  Rye recalled how she would stand on the wooden footstool to reach the counter, taking turns with Basil to tear up the brioche and daring each other to try the rum before it went into the mixing bowl.  Though she remembered the feeling of being constantly crowded in that house, her childhood memories were mostly of her grandparents.  The memories were always accompanied by the sensation of a full house, as it should with the ten people that had once lived under its roof, but all she saw in the images were her grandmother’s hands on the wooden spoon, her grandfather’s laughter in the background.

Her house never quite felt like home again after they passed, although she desperately tried to recreate the feeling she had in that kitchen with them.  But her family was never too interested and Rye’s efforts soon became lost in the hubbub of cameras and fame.  But at the restaurant were her grandparents’ regulars, customers that had become friends over the years, people who had relied on their home-style recipes and grew to love Rye like family.  And when her mother left, the chef that her grandfather had hired – Mariana – became like a surrogate, offering her an ear for her stories and complaints, even when it was about her son Jeremy.

Jeremy was the only real crush that Rye had ever had.  In fact, Jeremy was the only real friend she had ever had if she didn’t count his mother.  They had known each other since they were five when Mariana started working at Somerville Diner.  She had dropped Jeremy off to play with Basil, but ultimately got along better with Rye.

Rye knew she loved him from day one.  He was surprisingly badass as an elementary school student, with his little leather jacket and a faux-hawk frosted at the tips that changed colors from week to week.  Mariana was that kind of mother.  It was his unusual look that made kids look past just how quiet he was when they were all ignoring Rye for being the same way.  But when he hit puberty, he became exactly the type of guy that made Rye weak at the knees – still quiet, but thoughtful and creative – the kind of guy who needed watercolors to express his feelings.  For awhile, she was his muse and they’d spend days in the woods looking for the perfect place to set up their easels.  At school and around town, they were known as a single entity and Rye couldn’t be prouder.

But by high school, when other girls finally noticed all that was great about Jeremy, Rye took on the role of advisor and therapist.  With every new crush that Jeremy developed, the wedge between them grew stronger.  Rye did everything she could to hold onto him, even resorting to badmouthing the girls he desired and telling him they weren’t good enough for him, but he never quite got it.  And to Rye’s horror, Jeremy shot up five inches between sophomore and junior year and though he remained skinny, he was suddenly seemingly able to grow muscle just by sneezing.  She had loved him through every awkward phase of his life but now he was undoubtedly attractive and in a way that transcended the impermeable walls of high school cliques.

She spent her last two years of high school mostly alone while Jeremy juggled his newfound popularity.  They would still see each other once in awhile, mostly while crossing paths at the diner and once for an extended weekend the month her grandparents died.  After high school, Jeremy graduated and went on to Parsons where his classmates managed to recognize him as the kid who was occasionally on
Days of Somertime.
  Rye tried a year at Binghamton where she proved to herself, once and for all, that she was never meant to belong.

Her family was all she had, but they were now gone too.  She even found herself missing the camera crew of
Days of Somertime
.  Rye knew it was a matter of time before Basil and Angus would find something to do in the city and she had prepared for that day.

She wondered why she wasn’t emotionally prepared for her father bailing on dinner.  It wasn’t like it was the first time he had done it.  Though Warner was once an idol to good fathers everywhere, something had snapped in him when his wife left him for a high schooler.  And no one could really blame him, least of all Rye.  But in that moment, she felt angry at him and the rest of her family for subjecting her to the overwhelming loneliness that had suddenly consumed her.  She stopped whisking the eggs, realizing she had mindlessly overbeaten them as she felt tears burning the corners of her eyes.  She wiped at them with the back of her hands, cursing herself for crying twice in a single week when she hadn’t cried in years.  She probably would have been angry that she broke the seal with Sam at the pop-up dinner, but he had been so warm and kind in response that she actually felt comfortable expressing herself.  It was probably a fair exchange considering what he had decided to reveal to her.

They had continued their dinner with dry eyes and dry remarks as Sam mercilessly critiqued the new chef’s preparation of his recipes.  Though Rye enjoyed many of the dishes they had brought out, she delighted in his remarks and even egged him on as it seemed to make him feel better about the whole situation.  Until he had mentioned his family, Sam had never quite felt real to her.  Until he mentioned his sister, she wasn’t sure he had the capacity to care about anything other than himself.  She knew her assumptions were unfounded now, which was a bit of a blow to her ego but also a relief.  Rye could relate to the man that had traipsed into her life, uninvited.  That was all she really needed to take down the wall she had built between them.

And she had really enjoyed sharing a meal with someone else since it seemed to be a rare occasion these days.  Though she had grown up and continued to run a restaurant, Rye hadn’t seen eating as a social event for herself in years.  Her grandparents used to make a party of every meal, but she recognized now that it came from a need to corral their grandchildren into a corner and make sure they got all their nutrients.  That’s what gave her grandfather the idea of building a fort at the restaurant when the triplets were eight and Rye and Basil were six.  They were all picky eaters but curious kids and the sight of their grandparents carrying bed sheets into the closed restaurant was enough to get their attention.  And so they followed them and watched as they constructed a makeshift tent over the entire family booth, agreeing to eat the Brussels sprouts they had refused just an hour earlier in exchange for entry into the fort.  They hid under the table and carved their names into it and soon, the Sunday night dinner fort became a Somerville tradition.

For a moment, she considered doing the same for her solo dinner, but Rye realized that little fort would feel just as big and empty as her house did now.  And for the first time in her entire life, Rye wished she lived in the city, closer to her family and the potential for new friends.  But she knew that couldn’t be her life.  At least not while so much of her was still deeply rooted in the rich earth of Dutchess Plains.

~

Every Independence Day, the city made a mass exodus into the surrounding backdrops of beaches, forests, and fields.  The ones who remained were those lucky enough to have access to a rooftop overlooking the fireworks on the river, and the crazy enough to brave the crowded streets in hopes of a view.  Sam was neither of those things, and so he and Damian stuck Gavin, Zoe, and Gemma in the backseat of a rented Yukon and made their way to Somerville Diner.

Sam had started his day unsure of whether Dutchess Plains had any plans for their own fireworks, but he figured that someone’s phone would have enough reception to look it up once they got there.  After parking their car and unloading the baskets of food they had brought with them to cook, Sam quickly learned that someone else had already decided that there would be fireworks, no matter what.

“I can’t believe you let us drive all the way up here with loosely packed in the back,” Damian said, holding an aerial tube of fireworks as he looked sternly at Gavin.  “You do realize they’re illegal, right?”

“Really?” Gavin asked.  “Even up here?”

“We’re still in the same state, idiot,” Zoe yelled.

“Well, if you’re not comfortable with bringing them back in the car, I guess we’re going to have to use them before we leave,” Gavin shrugged, a mischievous smile on his face as he helped carry the food inside the diner.  As they unpacked what felt like the entire butcher and produce section of Citarella onto the open kitchen counter, Sam watched as his friends marveled over the space.

“This is perfect for the fourth,” Gemma said, smiling as she ran her hands over the old wooden surfaces.  “It’s so old-timey and charming.”

“Yeah,” Gavin agreed.  “It feels like someone could have actually signed the Declaration of Independence here.”

“It’s not
that
old,” Sam laughed.  “And it’s not as charming when you’ve been tasked to update it all.”

“Where’s Rye?” Zoe asked.

“I don’t know,” Sam replied.  “It’s not like she
lives
in the restaurant, Zoe.”

“Well I know
that,
but she mentioned that she walks to work so I figured she was close.”

“You can actually see her house from the backdoor,” Sam said, pointing behind him.

“What’s she up to today?” Gemma asked.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.  “All I know is that she said she didn’t have plans to use the restaurant, so we’re all clear.”

“Do you know what
her
plans are?” Gemma said, looking out at the house in the distance.

“I didn’t think to ask.”

“Why didn’t you ask her to join?” she asked, turning to him.  “It seems weird to be like, ‘hey I’m gonna use your restaurant for the fourth, but I’m not going to invite you.’”

“I just,” Sam shrugged, shaking his head.  “I don’t know.  It just slipped my mind.”  He unwrapped a skirt steak from its butcher paper and fired up the grill, turning away from Gemma.  It had not, in fact, slipped his mind.  He had considered inviting her when she texted back that she wouldn’t be using the space, especially now that they had gotten to know each other a little better.   But he had been feeling just slightly uncomfortable at the thought of Rye ever since their dinner at the Sandrine pop-up.  He had opened up to her more than he really wanted to, but in his drunk and emotional state was unable to stop himself.  Though his own friends knew about his family and their situation back in Hawaii, they didn’t know he had a sister, nor did they realize his restaurant was created in her name.  It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss and he knew his friends were the discussing type.  Sam was nervous that Rye would somehow slip up while they were hanging out.

“Well, I’m going to go over to see if she’s home,” Gemma said, grabbing Zoe by the hand and pulling her towards the back door.

“Okay,” Sam shrugged as they left.  He looked up to see Damian and Gavin exchange a quick glance before putting their full attention back onto bacon-wrapping some hot dogs.  “What was that?” he asked, pointing at his friends.

“Did you need a break from her and work or something?” Gavin asked.  “Are our girlfriends ruining your plans?”

“I would definitely understand,” Damian said.  “
If
you weren’t using her family restaurant to throw your own party.”

“It’s just as much mine now,” Sam laughed.  “So, whatever.”

“She’s pretty cool, so I don’t mind,” Gavin said.  “She’s not what I expected in a Somerville chick for sure.”

“She was kind of shy at first,” Damian began.  “But once she loosened up she was a lot of fun.  And the girls seem to love her.  We should have her out more often… unless there’s a reason why you wouldn’t want that.”

“There’s no reason,” Sam replied.

“You know,” Gavin said, taking a bite of a cupcake that he had somehow been keeping in his pocket.  “I think she could actually be pretty if she did something about her… hair or something.”

“Alright,” Sam laughed.  “If you say so.”

“Like, there’s something just a little bit off about her,” Gavin continued.  “But she could be really pretty if she fixed whatever that was.  What do you guys think?”

“Maybe,” Sam said, throwing the steak on the grill.  He and Gavin looked over at Damian.

“Probably?” Damian said.  “I think she looks fine now so, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever – all girls that aren’t Gemma look the same to you.  Gag,” Gavin rolled his eyes.  “Do us all a favor and put a ring on it already.”

“I normally don’t care about this shit,” Sam said.  “But I’m also kind of surprised that you haven’t done that already.”  Damian shrugged.

“I think he just wants some more time to pass since the last time they got married,” Gavin said.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Damian laughed.  “Please.”

“Whatever,” Gavin shrugged.  “Better that you don’t steal the spotlight from my wedding day anyway.”

As Gavin and Damian helped take over the grill, Sam went out back to the kitchen patio where he had left a rolled up picnic blanket.  He had bought it from Donald McDougal’s wife, a quilter who was known for her custom work around town.  Sam had asked for something oversized but simple – large enough to seat four to six people around food that could serve eight to ten.  Mrs. McDougal had come up with a perfect design for him, a classic patchwork piece that stretched ten feet by ten feet with a large white circle trimmed with little blue rectangles that resembled a table and placemats.  He dragged the heavy roll out into the patch of grass between the kitchen patio and the abandoned field, rolling it out before leaning forward to smooth it out.