* * *
Evie sat across from Nicole’s desk and took the tissue she offered. She had no idea what she had done wrong, but some part of the universe’s New Year’s resolution seemed to involve kicking her while she was down.
She was set to return to The Dish, but when she went in that Friday to talk to Troy and the other producers, they’d all been shocked by her appearance. The short hair and the glasses. They were more than shocked when she explained that she needed Melanie Burns banned from the studio and all Dish-related functions. She had the medical records and the restraining order available to back up her claim. She was just eager to get back to work.
Troy had been a little strange toward her as the meeting ended, but she just figured he was processing all of the unbelievable things she’d just told them. The assault, the memory loss. Her hair. But clearly he had done more than process.
She woke up that Monday morning and went down to meet her driver, Octavio, but he wasn’t there waiting for her in his usual spot. She figured he was running late, but when fifteen minutes went by she called the production office to see if he was okay. Then she’d been put on hold. She’d never been put on hold. Chelsea, their production manager, finally got on the phone and told her not to come in. She couldn’t explain why, but she’d hear from Jacinda May, their executive producer, soon. As soon as she hung up she got a text from Raquelle, who was waiting at the studio with Evie’s breakfast and coffee. They wouldn’t let her in.
Two hours later she was in Nicole’s office, sitting through the third worst call she’d received in her life. They were letting her go. Their official statement: Evie’s temporary replacement was crushing it and Troy felt it would be best if she stayed on. They would pay out the rest of her season-one contract, but her days at The Dish were done. Evie knew it was more than a bit of on-screen chemistry that had gotten her canned. She and Troy were great together on camera, and she and Ashley and Mitchell had this great back-and-forth that the audience loved. She didn’t doubt for one second that Montgomery Fent was doing a great job standing in, but Evie knew what she herself had brought to the table. The viewers and the ratings. She was the reason they’d been renewed for a second season. This wasn’t about Montgomery, it was about her.
Nicole tried her best to get them to reconsider, but Evie had yet to actually renew her contract. Nothing was in writing. There was nothing she could do.
“This sucks. I know this sucks, but it’s going to be okay,” Nicole said.
“I know. I know.” She let out a deep breath and lightly dabbed the edge of her new tortoiseshell frames.
“I want you to go home. Take a hot shower—”
“Ugh, I don’t want to go home. I’ve been dying to get out of the house.” Cabin fever didn’t begin to describe it. Though she’d been a wonderful, essential houseguest, Evie thought Vega leaving would give her a little more breathing room, but what she really wanted was to get back to work and the rest of her normal routine. She needed a break from the constant stream of Zach-related thoughts that would not stop running on a loop in her head. Now the thing that had given her the routine she so desperately craved had been taken away.
“Okay. Well, reschedule that vacation you had on the books. Head down to Barbados. Hell, call your friend Tiffany and see what’s going on in Barcelona. You have options. You wanna write a book? Cookbook? Memoir? I’m sure we can get the ball rolling on something.”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice filled with defeat. She had plans. The Dish had been a part of those plans. She might as well light on fire the imaginary blueprints for the restaurant that would never be.
After she gave herself a little shake, Evie stood and grabbed a few more tissues. “I’m sure Oprah and Beyoncé would want me to find the silver lining in this.”
“Rihanna too,” Nicole said with a shrug.
“I’m going to head home and pull myself together. I’ll call you in few days. Maybe I’ll drag Blaire to Vermont or somewhere the snow stays pretty for the weekend.” If Blaire wasn’t busy with Dr. David.
“That sounds amazing.”
Evie thanked Nicole, then caught a cab back to her place. Blaire wouldn’t be home for a few hours so she had time, too much time, to herself before she could lament losing her job in a less-than-dignified way. She knew she should probably call Raquelle, let her know what had happened, assure her everything would be okay and she definitely still had a job as Evie’s assistant. She sat on the edge of her couch, phone in hand, and a sudden need she couldn’t explain came over her. Things were not going her way right now, but she didn’t have to handle this alone. She called Miss Leona.
“Hey, girl. What up?”
Fresh tears sprang to the corners of her eyes at the sound of Corie’s voice. This time Evie laughed. “Hey, Corie. Is Miss Leona around?”
“Yeah, one sec.”
A moment later she heard Miss Leona’s soothing voice on the other end of the line. “Yvonne. My sweet baby. What’s going on in the Big Apple today?”
“Um, not much. Nothing good.”
“Oh? Well then, it’s a good thing you called me. Tell me what’s going on.”
At first, Evie told herself that she just wanted to hear Miss Leona’s voice. They’d only spoken a few times for a few minutes since she’d left Charming, but the next thing she knew she was telling Miss Leona everything. About The Dish, and the fear that Melanie would reappear and violate the restraining order just for kicks. She told her everything. Well, almost everything. She left out the fact that she desperately wanted to share all this with Zack. She didn’t tell Miss Leona just how much she missed him and how, for some ridiculous reason, she thought stepping into his arms would make all of this go away. If only for a few minutes.
“I’m sorry I’ve been rambling on,” Evie finally said. She’d have to ask Dr. Manzo if chronic weeping could be a side effect of traumatic brain injury or if her life was that much of a mess.
“I don’t mind the rambling. Would you like an old woman’s two cents on an industry that’s tried to get rid of me more than a few dozen times?”
Instantly, Evie felt so foolish. She’d called Miss Leona for the grandmotherly shoulder to lean on. She’d almost forgotten that the woman also knew her way around an industry deal gone wrong.
“I would love to hear your opinion. Please.”
“Fuck ’em,” Miss Leona said, her voice stern.
A rough burst of laughter came from Evie’s mouth. “What?”
“I said, fuck ’em. From what you’ve told me, this show is Troy’s baby, an ex–football player’s fall-back plan. He’s calling the shots now. Okay, fine. The question is, what is your dream, your baby? What does Chef Evie Buchanan want to show the world?”
Evie almost lied and said she didn’t know, like speaking her dreams out loud would somehow taint them, but the idea of withholding the truth felt so exhausting. She said what was in her heart. “I want to open my own restaurant. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, and truthfully? It’s the main reason I took the gig on The Dish, but now, I don’t know. Now I feel like I’m going to miss being in front of the camera. I’m not sure I’m ready to give it up.”
Evie was shocked to hear herself offer up that bit of information, but it wasn’t the whole truth. She didn’t want to stay at The Dish forever, but having the rug pulled out from under her like this was not what she had in mind.
“Hmmm,” Miss Leona said. “Well, let me make some calls—”
“No, please—”
“Let me finish.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let people help you. Let me make some calls and we’ll see what we can get going for you next.”
“I just—I appreciate that. That’s just not why I called, you know, for your connections.”
“I know, but that’s what I’m going to do. I know you and Zachariah had a rough go of it, but I need to own up to my part in all this too.”
“What do you mean?” Evie asked.
&
nbsp; “I didn’t pull you closer when Amelia died, and I should have. Not that I should have stopped you going back to culinary school, but I should have opened my home to you at every possible turn because you’re one of my babies too. You lost your mom and your daddy and then your nana too, and I just let you walk away. I was wrong and I’m sorry.”
That was the last thing she’d expected to hear. She figured Miss Leona had just been staying out of their drama. Evie supposed in the back of her mind she could have called her if she needed to. Maybe she hadn’t because Miss Leona reminded her too much of her grandmother. Maybe she’d created another reason in her mind to stay away. She never imagined Miss Leona felt like she’d messed up in any kind of way. It was also really strange to hear someone she respected so much apologize to her.
“I—I appreciate you saying that. I didn’t know how to speak to Zach, but I should have called you.”
“I say we call it even.”
More tears threatened to fall from Evie’s eyes as a small knot made its way up her chest. “I think I can live with that.”
Chapter 25
Evie refused to change again. Three times was plenty for a lunch with a man she swore she no longer had feelings for. She refused to get dressed up for Zach Pleasant. She definitely didn’t need to dress up for Sam. A week ago Sam had called and said he’d be in the city for a few days and asked if she wanted to meet up for a few hours. He was considering a project and wanted input from someone who didn’t share his last name. Evie eagerly agreed and then instantly reconsidered when he mentioned Zach would be with him.
Zach Pleasant had featured prominently in her conversations with her therapist. He also seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her dreams. She wasn’t ready to see him, but she knew sooner or later she was going to have to rip the Band-Aid off and face him. She loved his family too much to spend the rest of her life avoiding just him.
She tied her boots and walked out to the living room. Blaire was stretched out on the couch binge-watching Living Single.
“How do I look?”
Blaire lifted her head, then reached for the remote and paused the TV. “Cute casual. Perfect outfit. Your boobs look amazing.”
Evie looked down at her argyle sweater that was a shade away from skintight. Her jeans weren’t exactly loose either, and she may have gone with a full face of makeup. “Not too much? I wanna say I’m doing fine and yeah, I’ve thought about sleeping with you literally every day since we’ve been apart, but I’m not going to sleep with you again.”
Blaire gave her a swift nod. “Mission accomplished.”
“Okay. I’m off.” Evie slipped on her parka and had one takeaway from her time back in California: She did not love New York winters. “You and David still on for tonight?”
“Yeah, but change of plans. We’re both exhausted, so we’re going to watch TV at his place.”
“Oooooh, that’s hot,” Evie teased.
“You jest, my friend, but David said we could lie on top of each other, butt naked, and watch my choice of period drama. Yeah, we could hit up a happening hot spot, but nothing gets my butter churning like a man who gives tax-deductible donations to your local PBS station.”
“Okay, that is hot. You and woke bae enjoy yourselves.”
“I’ll be here till seven if you need to debrief.”
“Thank you. You’re the best.”
Thirty minutes later she walked out of the blistering cold and into T_G. Trekking all the way out to Brooklyn on such a crappy day wasn’t the brightest idea, but Donia promised her a private table in the back, in the middle of their midday rush. Nowhere else in all the boroughs could promise that on such short notice.
She shed her coat and stepped up to the hostess stand. The young girl manning the seating chart did a double take, her eyes lighting up the second she recognized Evie.
“Chef Buchanan, hi! Your guests are already here. Let me show you to your table.”
“I got this,” Donia said as she made her way over from the bar. She gave Evie a warm hug, then took her hand and led her toward the back of the restaurant. The moment she spotted Zach she almost turned and hightailed it out of there. How could he possibly look better than the last time she saw him? Fresh haircut, nicely pressed suit. She could see that Stetson of his on the seat beside him. And then all she could picture was how good he looked wearing nothing but that hat. The corner of his mustache tipped up in a cautious smile. She thought she returned it, but she may have just been drooling.
“After this can you tell me how you know Sam Pleasant?” Donia whispered, snapping her out of her Zach-focused reverie.
“It’s a boring story, I swear.”
“And his hot brother.”
“Now that’s where the drama is,” she whispered back.
Donia let out a faint snort before she plastered on a professional smile. She stood by as Zach and Sam both stood and greeted Evie with light kisses on the cheek. Donia gave them her VIP spiel, then left them to make their final choices off the menu.
“It’s nice to see you guys,” Evie said as she slid into the booth so Sam was seated between her and Zach. It was awkward, but she couldn’t be too cautious. He even smelled good.
“Likewise. How are you feeling?” Sam said with his bright smile.
“Good. Great, actually. Still getting used to the hair, but I whipped up a killer three-course dinner for some friends last night, so it’s nice to know I can find my way around a kitchen. Again.”
“New glasses?” Zach asked.
“Oh yeah.” Evie swallowed the nerves rising in her throat. She hadn’t been prepared to hear his voice again. “A lot of people on the Gram like them.” Evie expected Zach to shoot back with some snarky comment about her adoring fans or some porny comment about how much he liked them too. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge. But he simply gave her another cautious shadow of a smile. She got it. She’d drawn a distinct line in the sand and he was trying to respect it.
“Oh, another bit of good news, before we get started. Melanie Burns got picked up in Italy on aggravated assault charges.”
“What?!” Sam and Zach said at the same time.
“She went over there to do a wedding and ended up choking the bride’s aunt, who is married to some local politician. Apparently, she’ll be a guest of the Italian authorities for a little while.”
“Wow.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. Locked up abroad seems like a much worse punishment than whatever the Manhattan DA was going to slap her on the wrist with for what she did to me.”
“Here, here,” Zach said, raising his glass.
“So, Sammy,” Evie went on before she stared into Zach’s gorgeous brown eyes a bit too long. “Talk to me. What’s this project you’ve got going on?”
“We want to invest in your restaurant.”
“’Scuse me, what?”
“Miss Leona told us about your plans pre- and post-Dish, and we want to help. I’m kicking in some funds, so are the parents. You’ll get a check from Zack and Jesse, and Miss Leona will cover the rest.”
“I’m sorry. ’Scuse me? Your parents?”
“I talked to them. Both of them, and they couldn’t deny that it would be a good investment,” Zach said.
“This is gonna be one hundred percent your show,” Sam went on. “We’re gonna be silent partners. You won’t have any Pleasants following you around, second-guessing your every move. This will be your baby.”
“Well—” Zach cut in.
“Well what? Bring on the catch, Pleasant,” she said.
“There’s no catch. I just want to offer my assistance. I have over ten years’ experience in hospitality. More, if you count the years I helped out Granddad.”
“What about the ranch? I’m surprised you’re here now.”
“Jesse and I decided I don’t need to be so hands-on day to day. I’ve been giving a little too much of myself to the guests. We created a position for Delfi. She’s now the general
manager and we promoted Lilah too. Teaching her more of the business.”
“I—that’s great. For all of you.”
“There’s more,” Zach said, cautiously.
“Celia Lamontagne wants to make a documentary about the whole process,” Sam blurted out.
“How in the—” Evie stopped herself from screaming in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Celia Lamontagne was only her favorite writer/director. She was fairly new on the scene, but she’d already directed five award-winning films and won an Oscar for A New Day, a documentary on Black women and midwifery. Evie would do anything just to breathe this woman’s air.
“How did Celia Lamontagne get involved in all this?”
“I ran into her after the SAG Awards,” Sam explained. “And somehow we got on the subject of you. I brought up your dreams for a restaurant and she pitched me the idea. She told me she actually voted for you as fan favorite when you were on Supreme Chef.”
“I’m not freaking out, but Celia Lamontagne knows who I am.”
“She wants to do a doc about you. She thought the idea of following a young Black female chef trying to break ground in a tough business would make for great material. Say the word and she’ll start making some calls.”
“Think about how many customers the doc alone could drive through the door,” Zach said. She looked over at him and considered everything they were offering. Money and support. She wanted to jump at the chance. It would be foolish to turn down such an amazing, generous offer. Of course, it came with one huge caveat. Even if she turned Zach’s part of the bargain down, she would still be working closely with his family. She’d be talking to them more, seeing them more. They would have to deal with each other in one way or another.
Evie cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. “And what about you? Considering how things are between us? Do you think working with me would be a good idea?”
“Honestly, Buck. That’s on you. But here’s what I do know. I love you and I want you to be happy. I would do anything to help make your dreams come true.”
Sam snickered, then nudged Zach, motioning for him to move out of the way. “I’ll give you two a minute.” When he was gone Zach stayed on his side of the booth, but the way he looked at Evie became all the more intense. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him like this. So straightforward. So serious.
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