Flawless: (Fearsome Series Book 4)

by S. A. Wolfe

  “I love her tweets!” Sunny chimes in. “She’s hilarious!”

  “And ruthless.” Wayne, one of our more aggressive servers, pumps his fist. “She’s the perfect woman for me. She loves food, and she’s mean.”

  “I’ll make sure you are not her server,” I say, and everyone laughs. “Also, we have Jenny’s parents here tonight.” There are a few ahhs, and Jenny smiles. “They flew in from Indiana to see her, so let’s wow them. Greer will be stopping by all those particular tables to visit, and for those special people, we’re comping everything, so don’t let the bill touch their table.”

  “It’s going to be a full house tonight, with the first turnover estimated at six thirty,” Bash adds. “I want this kitchen running smoothly.”

  “Yes, Chef!” the servers and cooks chant.

  “If you see food come up, I want you to run it, even if it’s not your check,” Bash continues. “And when you’re coming back into the kitchen, don’t walk by a dirty table. If the customers have left the table, pick up some dishes and bring them with you back to the dishwasher. We need everyone pitching in because we’re short a busboy tonight.”

  “Yes, Chef!” Everyone laughs.

  “Talia,” I say, and she looks surprised. “Why don’t you tell the staff what you think is the most important part of the service experience?”

  She shrugs and casually says, “Turn off your vibrators.”

  My laughter is the loudest above the others.

  She grimaces. “I meant, set your phones to vibrate. I hate when I see a server looking at their phone or you hear it ringing in their apron when they’re standing next to a table. It makes the customer feel unimportant.”

  “You hear that?” I say to the group. “No phones. I don’t want to see or hear them on the floor. And we’re all bussing tonight, and we’re all moving food. If I’m not here plating trays, Greer will be. You’ve all been doing a great job with customers and making things run smoothly. But tonight will be extra busy, and we’re short-staffed—the customers can’t suffer. It needs to run like clockwork in the kitchen, but the dining room needs to feel relaxed and casual. So keep your panic attacks contained to the back of the house.”

  “Yes, sir!” Wayne salutes and clicks his heels together.

  “Get out of here,” I say, chuckling with the others.

  “You’re such a nice boss,” Talia comments, lifting one of her delivery bags and propping it on her hip.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting on the road?”

  “I’m leaving, but I’m glad I didn’t miss the pregame show. You’re like a god.”

  “Not funny.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  I pick up her other delivery bags and carry a tower of them on my shoulder, following my dream girl out of the kitchen. We head through the dining room toward Greer, who is talking to a group of businessmen by the hostess station. One of the well-dressed men turns around. It’s Danny Bourdain.

  “Peyton! Just the man I’m looking for.”

  Talia glances back at me. There’s no mistaking her anger.

  “Good to see you, Danny. I’m gonna run this stuff outside, and then we can catch up.”

  “Hey, I’m not going anywhere. I came here to see you.” Danny gives one of those big I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse smiles.

  Talia slams open the front door and holds it for me. “After you.” She glowers at me, fuming as I carry her bags to her van. “Why are they here?” she demands, taking one thermal bag at a time from me and placing them strategically inside the van.

  “We’re going to have a conversation about working together.”

  “In LA? Really? You’re still considering this? You would move there? What about Finn?”

  “I’m not abandoning Finn. More than anything, I’m doing this because of him. This is a chance for Bash and me to be part of a national brand.”

  “It’s all about you. God, Peyton, I actually started to believe you were different. When Finn came into your life, I thought, here’s a good man. He’s going to be a good dad. He’s going to put his kid first before his own needs. I can’t believe you’re going to screw this up for you and Finn.”

  “I’m not screwing up. I’m weighing my options.” It’s difficult not to sound defensive. “This would be great for developing our brand, and that’s money in the bank for Finn. I’m building something I can pass on to him.”

  She slams the van doors closed. “I can’t believe you! You can’t take Finn with you to LA, because his mother is here, which means you’ll be traveling, gone for months at a time. This will go on for years. While you build up your brand, and your fame, and your bank account, Finn will grow up without a dad. Again! It’s like that old song ‘Cats in the Crib,’ when the dad finally realizes he missed his kid’s whole childhood because he put work first. I’m so disappointed in you.”

  “In me? First of all, the song is ‘Cat’s in the Cradle,’ and I am not the dad in that sad song. Give me a break. Second, you’re the one who decided I wasn’t good enough to be with you. Don’t you think I’m disappointed in you and how you’re judging me? And I wouldn’t be leaving Finn. I would have to do a bit of traveling at first, a West Coast, East Coast thing, but I wouldn’t abandon him.”

  “Right, that’s what they all say. Before you know it, Finn will be eighteen and off to college. You already missed the first half of his childhood. This is it. Do you really think you’re going to get another chance with him? If you choose Danny Bourdain over your own son, I will lose all respect for you.”

  “I thought we had some kind of connection,” I say, floored by her response. “We were starting to get pretty close, and I thought you of all people understood how I feel about Finn and how important it is for me to do right by him. I can’t believe you have such a shitty opinion of me.”

  “I didn’t, until I saw those guys in there.”

  “You have misinterpreted this whole thing, Talia. I’m not meeting with them to serve my own needs. I’m doing this because I have some great ideas and these guys can help make them happen. It’s about creating something bigger and better, and it all comes back to Finn and …”

  “And what?”

  The distrust in her eyes makes me wonder if I was wrong. Maybe I’m the one who misinterpreted what I thought was happening between the two of us. Perhaps I was nothing more than a convenient lothario for her.

  Until Talia, I was never confused about women, any woman. Either I was interested in being with them for a while, or I wasn’t. There were no gray areas in between that made me question my feelings for them or where I stood. Because I never had these feelings. I never cared. Until this Polish chef and her hotheaded opinions about men made me care about her.

  “This opportunity is important to me, but it will also allow me to offer more to Finn.”

  “Harmony is rich. Finn is already taken care of financially, so don’t use money as an excuse.”

  “I don’t want Harmony to foot all the big expenses: his private school, college—all of it. Kids are expensive. Finn needs to see me as an equal contributor.”

  She snickers. “Right. Same thing my dad used to say about needing more money. Look how that turned out.”

  • • •

  The meeting with Danny Bourdain and his business partners goes well, but there isn’t a moment when I’m not thinking about Talia and the fury directed my way. Her rage makes me want to prove myself to her.

  I give these guys the grand tour and have no problem revisiting my restaurant ideas for their recently acquired Las Vegas and Malibu locations. My arrogance is full throttle, the kind of cockiness that helps sell me and all that is me. Bash is the reserved one. He joins us for a good, long meeting, but as he talks about different menus and themes, my mind wanders back to Talia.

  I imagine her out on her deliveries, thinking about me, furious with me, wishing I would change. Adam Knight is trapped on his toilet with a painful call from nature so h
e can’t flirt with her—it’s my fantasy—so Talia sets up his dinner without him and promptly leaves his home. Attagirl. Then she’s back in her van, driving and thinking about me and how I am her type more than any other man.

  I have family in Hera, a business in Hera, and now I have a son who roots me to this place she calls home. Those are the practical items on her checklist, and then there’s the chemistry between us. When we’re in the same room, our emotions get knocked up a few levels. We’re hormonally charged when we’re together, whether we’re going over inventory lists in a fully staffed kitchen or arguing on the street. There isn’t a moment when I don’t want her, and there isn’t a moment when I don’t want her to care about me more.

  When she left me standing in front of Swill as she drove off, I was on shaky ground, thinking I’d really blown it with her. Then the meeting with the Bourdain-Torrance guys made me all cocky again. After a few hours of talking, and after we watched Swill fill to capacity with customers and energized waitstaff, we agreed we wanted to move forward with a partnership. I was feeling good about my business and feeling confident that I could still win Talia over. It’d require some explaining to knock some sense into that stubborn head of hers, but she wouldn’t be so emotional about this if she didn’t care. That thought is what keeps me going.

  I walk Danny and his colleagues out to their cars, the only Maserati and Aston Martin in the full parking lot, and they do look preposterous among the dust-covered trucks and SUVs. I do a quick once-over to make sure Talia didn’t key their cars while they were inside schmoozing me. Then we say our goodbyes with plans for upcoming meetings with more executives from Bourdain-Torrance. I’m confident Bash and I will get everything we ask for and more.

  My grandiose thoughts are interrupted by the vibration of my phone in my back pocket. It’s Talia. She probably thought of more ways to yell at me.

  “Talia,” I say, thankful she can’t see my smile and how smug I’m feeling at the moment.

  “I need you here … She’s dead!”

  She’s crying and explaining what happened as my truck tears out of the parking lot.

  Peyton

  IT’S DARK WHEN I arrive at her house, but the lights from the ambulance and the sheriff’s patrol car light up the night. I park a good distance away so I don’t block the emergency vehicles, and then I jog toward the commotion.

  The EMTs are at the back of the ambulance with a stretcher. The covered figure is lifeless. I glance up at the front door of Talia’s home and see the sheriff, Gavin, consoling Mila. To the left, standing in the open doorway of Norma’s home, Talia is watching the EMTs and crying. Through the flashing lights and with the backdrop noise of crackling voices on the ambulance radio, it’s like swimming against a chaotic tide to reach her. I grip her arms and pull her against me. I’m too rough. It’s the charged atmosphere of death and fear. I hold her more tightly as if this will make a difference and change the outcome. Her head down, buried against my chest, she keeps crying.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. No matter how heartfelt those two words are, they feel useless.

  “She was very old,” she says between sobs. “She knew—we all knew—it was going to happen soon. She wasn’t really eating for the last two weeks.”

  “Still. It’s hell to lose someone you love. Was her nurse here?”

  “No. Norma was alone. I found her. She died all alone.” She cries harder, gulping sobs.

  I lift her chin so I can see her face. Her eyes are puffy and red, and she sorely needs a box of tissues.

  “She wasn’t alone. You and your family spent time with her every day. She was not a lonely woman. Norma was loved, and she was happy.”

  Talia stops crying and wipes her eyes and runny nose with the hem of her shirt. “I walked in like I always do, to deliver a hot meal to her. I don’t know which nurse was on duty today, but Norma likes to let them go home early. She was sitting at the kitchen table. Her forehead was resting on it. I thought she fell asleep in the middle of the Sudoku puzzle she was working on.” Talia shakes her head. “I knew, though. I think I felt it before I walked in the house. The air, something … it all felt different, like something was missing. It felt like something was gone. Even when I called her name, I knew she was dead. If people do have souls, Norma’s was not in that room. Maybe I was imagining it. The absence of energy.”

  “You’ve never been through this, have you?”

  “No. I’ve been to wakes and funerals, but I’ve never been there when someone close to me dies. I wish I could have been holding her hand when she took her last breath. I wish she could have been comforted.”

  “If it helps, I don’t think Norma was scared of dying. She’s lived longer than most people, and right until the end, her mind was sharp. It’s possible she let her nurse go home so she could be alone and enjoy her puzzle, because she knew this was her last day.”

  “She generally got what she wanted.”

  “She was strong. And you’re strong, and you’re going to help your mom through this, too.” We both look over at Gavin and Mila. “Someone needs to contact Norma’s relatives, if she has any, and help with arrangements. You’d be better at this than your mother.”

  “Me?” Talia looks up at me, scared. “I don’t know how to do this, and I’m a wreck like my mother. Look at me. I’m a mess.”

  “You’re not a mess. You’re sad, but your mom is more fragile than you. She was starting to make progress, but Norma’s death may set her back.”

  “Talia!” Aleska waves at us. The ambulance driver says something to her, and then she runs over to us.

  “Where were you?” Talia asks.

  “We were running behind at work. Marguerite just dropped me off. When I saw the ambulance, I thought something happened to Mom. Then I saw Norma. They covered her face when I got closer.”

  I push Talia toward her sister. They hug, and then they both begin crying again.

  “She was so old. We should be celebrating her long life,” Aleska says through her bawling.

  “I hate when people say things like that,” Talia says through her choking sobs. “Peyton says I should be the one to call her family.”

  “He’s right. You need to call her niece. She’s in Arizona or Guatemala, or someplace like that.”

  “Those are two very different places,” I remark. This crying and hugging could go on for a while.

  “She lives someplace south, very far away,” Talia adds. “Lois will know how to reach her.”

  “Yes, Lois will know. She knows everything. And Norma knew everything,” Aleska says, and then she and Talia look at each other and watch each other cry as if it’s a competition.

  “I’m sorry.” I gently tug them apart. “Aleska, could you please go comfort your mother? I’m pretty sure the sheriff needs to get back to work and deal with Norma’s … situation.”

  Aleska wipes her eyes. “Who’s going to watch over Mom now that Norma’s gone?” There’s a pause, and then Aleska takes off running toward her mother.

  “That’s what I’m worried about, too,” Talia tells me. “You’d think my mother was the one checking in on an old woman every day, but it was Norma checking in on her. I could leave the house each day knowing my mother had Norma. And one of Norma’s nurses was usually around.”

  “Your mother doesn’t need a babysitter. Stop thinking like a parent. You’re not her mother. She’ll be fine.”

  “No, nothing is fine. I assumed Norma would live another ten years, at least. She was part of my five-year plan, because I kept forgetting how old she was. Who makes plans for the future that include a hundred-year-old woman?”

  “It shows how important Norma was to your family.”

  “She’s my … She was my biggest cheerleader. She’s the one who believed in my dream for the Pickwick house. She was encouraging and never once made me think it would be a financial disaster. Like you did.”

  “I never said your Pickwick thing would be a disaster. I’m a busines
sman. I look at all sides.”

  “And I’m not a businesswoman? I wish Norma were here to put you in your place.”

  “I wish she were here, too.”

  As we walk across the lawn to her home, I slip my arm across her shoulders. All the emergency vehicles and people are gone. We watch Gavin get in his car and follow the ambulance. Mila and Aleska retreat inside their house. We’re alone, and I catch myself kissing the top of her head. Talia stops walking.

  “What are you doing?” she asks.

  “Sorry. Habit. I forgot I’m not allowed to do that.”

  Peyton

  THE LINE FOR VIEWING the casket is out the door. Everyone knew Hera’s oldest resident. It’s the kind of event that closes down businesses for the day.

  I’m wearing a black suit, and I got a cut and a shave at the barbershop since I’ve been requested by Eleanor to be a pallbearer. Norma had her will written sometime back when she was in her sixties, at least forty years ago. It’s baffling that she didn’t amend the will to update the pallbearers, but she must have had her reasons, sentimental or otherwise.

  At the time, she liked the idea of having her former kindergarten students be her pallbearers. They were listed by name in her will. Unfortunately, if you live to be a hundred, you’re probably going to outlive your six-year-old students who would now be in their eighties. Norma outlived all but one of them, which is why Eleanor called me and the other guys to fill in.

  It’s my turn to have Finn, but I asked him if he would stay with his mom today. He was very understanding.

  Mila is the most distraught. I’m not going to lie and say I’m not also hoping to spend some time with the bereaved daughter and comfort her, too.

  The minute I park my truck, Lois flags me down from the church door, yelling my name and telling me to jump the line.