by JA Low
“Maybe.” This is what I remember. It’s all flooding back. My family likes to stick their noses into my business.
“So, you’ve thought about more, then?”
My brother is becoming annoying as fuck, so I switch it up. “How about we delve into your sex life, hey, Joaquin?” Anger laces my tone, but this only makes him burst out laughing.
“Oooh… I’ve touched a nerve.” He grins. “My sex life is fine. Great actually,” he boasts.
“You know there’s more to life than fucking groupies and extras,” I warn him.
“Maybe when I’m an old man like you, that will be true, but at the moment, I’m enjoying fucking groupies and extras.”
The smug bastard. I’m only ten years older than him, and at thirty-four, I don’t think I’m that old.
“Maybe your co-star would be more interested in someone closer to her age.”
I’m ready to throw my beer bottle at him. The annoying little shit, but somehow, I ignore him.
“Have you called Yvette?” he asks.
“I texted her when I got in,” I tell him.
“Well, it’s good to have you home, brother.” He sits there with a giant smirk on his face as he lays back on the daybed, making himself at home. We spend the night drinking way too many beers and talking shit.
It’s been a perfect homecoming.
***
I hear ringing beside me as I try and force my eyes open. It’s dark outside. The twinkling of the Barcelona skyline is my only source of light.
“Hola, Seb’s phone,” I hear my brother answering it. “He’s asleep at the moment. Can I take a message?” Then there’s silence. “You have the cutest accent,” Joaquin’s voice dips low. “Keep talking, I love it.”
Who’s he flirting with? Shaking my head, trying to wipe the cobwebs of my jetlag away, I continue to listen. “We should catch up when you get here. I can show you the sights.”
Wait! Shit! Jumping up and swiping my cell from my brother’s hand, he bursts out laughing.
“Hello.” Sounding breathless as I walk away from Joaquin, who’s clutching his belly as he’s bent over laughing.
“Oh, hey, Sebastien,” Quinn answers happily. “Sorry if I woke you. I just wanted to check in to see if you had arrived safely.”
“Thanks. Sorry I forgot to text. I kind of lost track of time with my family around and had one too many beers with my brother.”
“No need to apologize at all. Your brother sounds nice,” she adds.
“He’s not,” I answer quickly, making Joaquin laugh harder.
“Oh, really?” she questions.
“No. I mean he is nice. But you know… he likes women. A lot of women.” Feeling like a dick for warning her off him, she shoots back with a chuckle.
“Just like his older brother, then?”
“He’s worse,” I reply, smiling as I say it.
“Well, I won’t take up much of your time. Just wanted to say hi, and um… you know? Actually, I don’t know why I called. I just…” She becomes flustered all of a sudden.
“You can call me anytime,” I tell her. It’s great hearing her voice. I’m surprised at how much I’ve missed hearing it, and it’s only been a couple of days. It feels like a bridge between my two worlds.
“Okay, well, I’ll let you go. Have fun and see you soon.” And with that, she hangs up and is gone.
“So, you still going with the lie that nothing’s going on?” My brother grills me.
My answer is to flip him off.
16
Sebastien
“Thanks for bringing me today.” My mama smiles at me as our car makes its way through the Barcelona traffic. “I still can’t believe you bought this without seeing it.”
“I know. It’s a little crazy, but I have a good feeling that it’s going to work out,” I tell her.
“Of course, it will. We have faith in you, Sebastien. You’ve always worked hard and achieved any dream you set your mind to.” Mama takes my hand in hers and gives it a little squeeze. “I know the divorce from Maria was hard, but it was for the best.” She gives me a sad smile.
Maria Gomez.
My first love, my only love.
Spanish superstar and socialite.
She swept me off my feet when I was twenty-three years old. A struggling chef in a town overrun with the best chefs in the world. We met through my sister—she wore one of her creations for her end-of-year design school graduation. It was young love at first sight. Next thing I know, she’s investing in my dream of owning my own restaurants, and my star begins to rise as Maria and her friends hang out at my bar.
Her influence catapulted me into the Spanish social scene, and we were Spain’s ‘it’ couple. Our photographs were plastered all over the magazines. And then the pictures of her and her co-star naked on the beach, where they were filming in Mexico came out. She tried to play it off as scenes from the movie, but thanks to the gossip magazines, her explanation turned out to be all lies.
Apparently, he was not the first co-star that she had a fling with, just the first one she got caught with.
I filed for divorce straightaway—I’d been humiliated.
Maria flew into a rage when she got the papers, telling me that I was embarrassing her, that I should forgive her for what she had done.
But I couldn’t.
Then she turned nasty.
She started to threaten me, saying she would take everything I had away because I wouldn’t be Sebastien Sanchez if it weren’t for her.
Problem was—she was right.
It was the truth.
She may have financed the first restaurant, but it was all my talent in the kitchen that kept it running.
Unfortunately, the courts didn’t see it that way. She had expensive lawyers, who were able to argue that I was just an employee and that she owned everything, including the money behind it all.
I lost everything.
I had five restaurants at that time, one had even earned a Michelin star. I was at the top of my career, and through no fault of my own, I lost it all.
After the divorce, I lost my mind for a couple of years. I wanted to make her pay for what she had done to me. I’m not proud of the way I acted. I slept with all her friends, making sure that a beautiful woman was seen on my arm everywhere I went. I did everything in my power to seek my revenge, but in the end, it hurt me more.
Maria didn’t really care. She knew she had lost her toy, but she had others to keep her company. Instead, I painted myself in the media as a bad-boy chef, a womanizer, a party boy.
Problem with that? Investors won’t put their money into that kind of public display. No one would hire me. No one wanted to invest in my ideas.
That was when my amazing family came to the rescue and helped me. It wasn’t long until I was the talk of the town again, but this time it was through my own hard work.
That’s why I took the offer in the states.
I owed my family.
With the advance I was given for Hotshot Chef, I paid them back. I was also able to start a mentorship program at my restaurant to help other struggling young chefs. I wanted to change the narrative that was out in the public domain. It worked for my profile in Spain, but then I kind of lost myself a little in LA. Found myself resorting to my old ways filling a lonely void that had opened up inside of me. Hence, the crazy decision to buy a vineyard from internet photographs.
We travel the hour to the famous winemaking region, Penedès, just south of Barcelona.
“It’s so beautiful here, Sebastien,” Mama remarks as we pull up along the old dirt road to the ancient vineyard. It really is with its dusty pink dirt, to the expanse of green valleys filled with vines, to the impressive mountains and the endless blue sky. “It’s peaceful,” she adds, stepping out of the car.
The only sound you can hear is the noise of cows and chickens. There’s no traffic, no helicopters, no bullshit.
“You must be Sebastien.” A crinkly old man shuffles out
of a dilapidated old building.
“You must be Gorge.” I shake the older man’s hand. “This is my mama, Alma.” They greet each other kindly.
“It is a little unconventional buying something you haven’t seen,” Gorge muses. “But I can assure you, you will be happy here.” He grins. “Sixty years I have been working this land. It’s as close to paradise as you can get,” he tells me as we make our way around the hundred-acre farm.
Gorge shows us the acres of well-looked-after vines. He told me he stopped production on their wine when it became too much, so instead, they had been selling their grapes to a local co-op. He spoke about how not all of the land was used for making wine, and that there are paddocks that are now empty which were once filled with goats, chickens, and cows. They used to make their own cheese too.
There are a lot more buildings on the land than I was expecting—an old dairy, abattoir, machinery sheds, cottages, and then there’s the main house that he and his wife live in, which is small yet comfortable. It doesn’t need much work, but probably should be brought into the twenty-first century, though. Also, there are rows and rows of old vegetable gardens which can be put to good use.
“Oh, there is one more building I forgot to show you. It’s down the very back of the property.” My mother and I look at each other and shrug. “I completely forgot about it as I haven’t been down there in who knows how long.” The old man chuckles. “It was too big and expensive for my wife and I to look after anymore.” The old truck bumps us along the rocky road until the vines open up, and the most magnificent building comes into view.
“Oh my, Seb.” My mother reaches out and grabs my leg. Standing before us is a run-down villa, something that would have been grand in its heyday.
“I remember the day my wife and I moved into the villa her parents left her. We were so excited to start our life together,” he tells us sadly. “Alas, we were not able to have children of our own, so all this space seemed… pointless in the end. So, we moved to the worker’s cottage at the top of the farm and left the villa the way it was.” I had no idea I had bought this home too. “I’ll leave you to explore.” The old man gets back into his truck and waits for us there.
I take my mother’s hand as we walk down the old cobblestone stairs. I rip away some old vines that have grown over the front entrance. Turning the handle on the old wooden door, it takes a couple of tries for the rusty mechanisms to work. With a squeaky groan, the door opens, and we are transported back decades to a time long forgotten.
“Oh, my…” Mama gasps as she takes in the villa filled with antiques under a thick layer of dust. “This is so beautiful.” As we continue to explore the two-story villa, we see thick wooden beams run along the ceiling with a million spider webs. Oversized windows that were once clean now sit under decades of grime, but still look out to what appears to be a courtyard or garden. Mosaic tiles line the floors as you walk further through the villa. Exposed stone walls with flaked off paint surround us.
I pull my cell out of my pocket and look at the time in LA—Quinn needs to see this. It’s early in the morning, but I think she will be okay with me waking her. I press her number and wait for the line to connect while I continue walking through the rustic villa waiting for her to pick up.
“Urgh, hello,” she grumbles.
“Quinn, wake up. Wake the hell up! I have something amazing to show you.” The excitement in my voice gains her attention. “You’re on FaceTime,” I warn her. The phone stills, then she moves it, so her face comes into view. Her blonde hair is a mess, and those blue eyes squint as the glare from her cell flashes in her eyes.
“This better not be some kind of joke, and the amazing surprise is your dick,” she grumbles.
Mama gasps, then bursts out laughing behind me.
“Quinn, you’re on speaker.” Her doe eyes widen, a small flush appears across her cheeks.
“It’s 4:38 a.m., I’m allowed to be not quite with it. Tell whoever heard me I’m sorry,” she moans.
“I’ll tell my mother you’re sorry.”
“Sebastien, your mother heard me,” she squeals out and then jumps out of bed, looking more awake now. My mother is smiling as she continues walking through the villa.
“She thought it was funny,” I reassure her.
“Well, I don’t, okay. That is not the first impression I want your momma to see of me,” Quinn chastises me.
My mother sends me a thumbs up at Quinn’s comment. She has a large grin on her face.
“I promise she doesn’t think any less of you,” I tell her.
Quinn glares at me.
“Can I please show you what I called about?”
She nods her head and turns it around so she can see what I’m seeing.
“Oh my…” Quinn covers her mouth, “… are you at a museum?”
Her question makes me laugh. “No… apparently I own it,” I explain.
“What?” She raises her voice.
“It’s rather sad actually. The older man was showing us around the farm, which is so freaking amazing, Quinn. You are going to die when you get here.” Her eyes widen with excitement, and a small smile falls across her plump lips. “This was the original home, but they weren’t able to have a family, so they decided to live in the worker’s cottage, which I thought was the original home, instead. He hasn’t been to this villa in decades.”
“Oh my.” Her hand covers her mouth. “Show me more.”
So, I do. I give her a live tour of the home. She sprouts off ideas and suggestions as we walk through each room.
“I have to go… the owner is waiting in the car for us. But we can talk about it more when I get back to Barcelona,” I tell her.
Her excitement for the project is radiating through the phone from her facial expressions. “My mind is buzzing with so many ideas. Okay… we’ll chat later.” We say our goodbyes, I hang up, and we head back with the owner. A short time later, we are on the road home to Barcelona.
“You and this Quinn girl seem to get along well,” my mother questions me.
“We work together. That is all,” I explain to her, but she eyes me suspiciously.
“You both seem at ease with each other,” she adds.
“That’s because she isn’t high maintenance.” Unlike Maria, but I don’t add those two words into the sentence.
“You had a smile on your face the entire time you were chatting with her.” My mother raises a questioning brow in my direction.
“Because I was excited about the project… that is all.”
“Okay, dear.” She grins.
“Mama… do not think there is anything more to us than co-stars,” I warn her.
“I look forward to meeting her when she comes out.” She grins.
I let out a heavy sigh at my mother’s wayward thoughts when I sink back against the seat of the car.
17
Quinn
My mind is buzzing after I get off the phone with Sebastien. I’ve grabbed my computer, a cup of coffee, and all my design folders and have everything spread out all over Lettie’s dining room table.
“You’re up early.” Lettie yawns as she grabs herself a cup of coffee from the machine.
“Yeah. Sebastien called me early this morning as he was walking around the property.” Lettie raises her brow as she sips her coffee. “The sellers showed him this old villa that he didn’t even know was part of the property,” I explain to her excitedly. “He FaceTimed me because he was so excited. He did the walk around with me. The place hasn’t been touched in maybe fifty years. It’s beautiful.”
Lettie grins.
“So, you were the first person he called upon discovering this time capsule?” Lettie asks.
“Yeah, why?” I question her.
“Wouldn’t he call production or something? They probably would like to go through it with him, especially if there’s an added building to renovate. You know it might mess up their timelines and things,” she explains to me.
Lettie bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding, Quinn.” She grins. “Just think it’s sweet that he called you first, that’s all.”
I frown at her. “You know it’s not like that,” I remind her.
“I know.” As she takes a seat beside me at the dinner table, she looks at the scatterings of paperwork all over it. I’ve sketched a couple of ideas down as well. “It nice seeing you excited about work again.”
Flicking through a design magazine, I ask, “Why? You think I wasn’t excited about work before?”
“Not like this,” she adds. “I think working on Farmhouse Reno you were a well-oiled machine. You knew what you had to do, and you just did it.” Her words make me frown. “You were expected to stay within a certain box.”
“Yeah, Chad’s box,” I grumble.
“Exactly. Not to say all those years on Farmhouse Reno that you didn’t do beautiful work because you did. You’re so talented. What I’m trying to say really badly is… I like seeing you having freedom with your designs.”
Freedom with my designs? I hadn’t thought about it like that. I always thought I was the one running the design portion of the show on Farmhouse Reno, but the more freedom I’ve been given on this new project, the more I realize how much creative control Chad really did have over me.
“I’m starting to realize now that the old life I thought was so perfect really wasn’t.” Running my finger over the pages of my notebook and the scribbles of ideas for Sebastien’s villa, I smile.
“You were happy. I didn’t want to rock the boat,” Lettie states.
“I feel stupid, Lettie. Like the world could see that my life wasn’t as perfect as I thought it was.” I let out a defeated sigh.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bum you out this morning.” She reaches out and grabs my hand. “I’m just excited to see you like this.” She waves her hand across the table at the paperwork. “That you and Sebastien are getting along so well.” I give her a what-do-you-mean look. “Not like that.” She grins. “Even though my inky black heart does think you two would be great together as a couple…” she gives me a pointed look, “… I actually mean that Sebastien is including you in his dream, that he trusts you. From the network’s point of view, I’m excited to see how all this translates on screen.”