My Boss’s Whim

by Liliana Rhodes

  "Is this woman somehow tied to billionaire playboy Drake Winslow? Stay tuned to this station for up to the minute news."

  Amused, I switched off the TV. I wondered why she went back to the hospital but knew there was only one explanation. It didn't make sense with how she acted towards me. I clicked on the speakerphone.

  "Becky? There's a video of Samantha Mayfair punching a reporter this afternoon. Squash it. And compensate the reporter. Make sure it's enough that she won't press charges."

  "I'm on it, sir."

  I picked up the phone ready to call Samantha, but then I had another idea.

  "Becky, get Silas Wainwright on the phone."

  "Right away, sir." After a few minutes, Becky came back on the speakerphone. "I have Mr. Wainwright on the line. I'll put him through."

  "Hello? Hello? Is anyone there" Silas asked.

  Silas Wainwright epitomized the term "old money". He was a slight, elderly man who still managed the day-to-day books for his shipping empire by hand. Unfortunately, he wasn't a fan of technology.

  "Silas, it’s Drake Winslow."

  "I thought I got disconnected. Why couldn't you call me yourself? Your dialing finger broken? That's the problem with your generation--you're all lazy!"

  "Silas, please. I want to talk to you about your annual party."

  "Yes, what about it? It's at the Water Club like always."

  "Do you have a caterer yet?"

  "No. No, I don't. Harder and harder to find someone who just makes good food. I don't need this fancy shit that's popular nowadays. I need food. Sustenance."

  "Then I've got the girl for you."

  "Not one of your floozies, Drake. No offense, but I'm not using someone just because you want to get laid."

  "No, it's not like that. Give me some credit. This is the young lady who catered the Boone wedding."

  "Ahh yes. The Boone wedding. So good that Xander has finally moved on and found love again."

  "Yes, yes it is," I said as I tapped my fingers impatiently on the desk. "Can I give you her number?"

  "Whose number? Mrs. Boone? Why do I need to call her?"

  "The caterer, old man. The caterer's number."

  "I'm just pulling your leg. Send me an email with her information. I take it I shouldn't mention how I got her number."

  "No, do us both a favor and don't mention me at all," I said before hanging up the phone.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Samantha

  "I owe you. Again. I couldn't have done this without your help," I said to Jackie as she helped load my SUV with the food I prepared.

  "I still can't believe you got this gig. People kill to work the Wainwright annual. And you said he just called you? Out of the blue?" Jackie asked.

  I nodded. "Yup! He said he heard about me from the Boone wedding. I guess something good did come out of that."

  "You guess something good? Give me a break already, Sam."

  "What?"

  "You know what I'm talking about." Jackie tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and gave me a knowing look. "You reconnected with Drake at that wedding. Are you going to say that wasn't good?"

  "It wasn't."

  "Fine. Whatever, Sam. I'm tired of this."

  As I closed the lift-gate of my truck, I turned and looked at her. Jackie had become my closest friend. She helped me at every turn and all I did was lie to her.

  "You're right. I don't know what's wrong with me. It’s all his fault." I sighed then looked up at her. Her arms were crossed over her chest. She knew me better than I thought. "Okay, I know it’s not. I'm just...confused. I spent my entire life crazy about him and nothing. Now I'm focused on starting my business, creating my own life, and he walks back into it. Not only that, but he's interested? It’s too much. I can't handle it."

  "Why can't you just go along with it? See what happens. Seriously Sam, if a gorgeous billionaire was after me, I wouldn't think twice about it," she said.

  "I know you're right. Trust me, I see how ridiculous I'm being. But I'm so afraid of getting hurt. I remember when I still lived with my mom, seeing Drake bring home dates would kill me. Then when I was away at college, I'd see his picture in the magazines dating this bimbo or that one. He's got a reputation, Jackie, how can I ignore that? I don't want to be just another notch."

  "Maybe it’s not like that. I mean why would he go after you like this if that's all he was thinking? You're just being stubborn."

  I shrugged. She was right. Looking at my watch, I realized I had to get going or I'd be late.

  "Right now I just want to focus on my business. Drake Winslow has distracted me enough. For God's sake, I punched someone because of him! I'm out of control. I'm lucky I didn't get sued."

  As I climbed into my red Toyota, I waved to Jackie then drove off. The party was in town along the river at a private restaurant called the Water Club. I had never been there before and didn't know what kind of accommodations the kitchen would have, so I did as much prep as I could ahead of time.

  Following Silas Wainwright's driving directions carefully, I managed to pull up in front of the restaurant on time. It was a tan wooden building with green accents and a glass-enclosed entrance. There was a small parking lot just beyond it.

  Running between the parking lot and the calm blue river, an asphalt walkway led to the restaurant. The walkway would have been beautiful if it wasn't for the bums passed out on several benches. In the distance, I could see boats bobbing in the water as they docked near a bridge.

  The building didn't look like much, and it definitely didn't look like a restaurant. By its appearance, I was more likely to get tickets for a boat ride than lobster there. Aside from that, it had probably seen better days. I doubted it had been renovated in decades.

  If it weren’t for the gold-etched sign over the doorway, I would have thought I was at the wrong place. As it was, I checked my GPS a couple of times as a short, thin parking attendant approached my car.

  "We're having a private party tonight," he said without looking at me.

  "Yes, I know. I'm the caterer," I said, making sure he heard my snarky tone.

  Finally looking at me, he examined my face and my tightly pulled back bun. I could see him take in my chef's coat and hat that lay in the seat beside me.

  "Park all the way in the back to the left."

  "But what about my stuff?"

  He waved at another attendant, who wheeled over an empty cart. I got out and they helped me load the cart with everything. Then I parked my car where he told me, grabbed my knives, coat, and hat, and walked back towards the restaurant as I breathed in the salty sea air and listened to the squawks of the seagulls overhead.

  As I entered the building, I saw a hint of the glamour the restaurant once had. In the corner of the two-story glass lobby was a red ticket booth, which doubled as a hostess stand. Dark grey tile covered the floor. Opposite from the hostess was a metal staircase with bright brass railings.

  Since no one was around, I walked past the staircase and into the bar. A fireplace burned at the end of the long room, reflecting on the honey-hued wood floor. Green leather chairs lined a corner, creating a waiting area. A long lacquered wood bar dominated the rest of the room, dwarfing the few tables and chairs. I had seen the bar once before in a movie and wasn't disappointed that despite some wear, it looked exactly the same.

  "Can I help you?" A tired male voice asked from behind me.

  I turned around and saw a small, thin, elderly man dressed in a navy sports coat with gold buttons and white pants. Wondering where his captain's hat was, I stifled a laugh. He didn't look like the type to have much of a sense of humor.

  "Yes, I'm a bit lost. I'm here to cater tonight's event."

  "Samantha Mayfair?"

  "Yes?"

  "I've been expecting you. I'm Silas Wainwright." He extended his hand to me and I shook it.

  "I didn't expect you here so early," I said.

  "I like to make sure everything is perfect befo
re my guests arrive. Come with me, let me show you around before taking you to the kitchen."

  I followed him out of the bar, through the lobby, and into the dining room. The room was as worn as the rest of the building except for one thing. Beyond the linen covered tables, windows lining the back wall took my breath away.

  The windows created a wall of glass that gave every seat a gorgeous view. As I watched the sunlight sparkle on the river, I realized we were on water when a speedboat passed and its waves caused the dining room to gently rock.

  "All the guests will be seated in this dining room," he said. "As you know, it’s an intimate party." He pointed to a doorway to the right. "That door leads into the kitchen and that's how the wait staff will deliver the food. I'm sure you'll find enough space in there. One thing you must pay attention to is that the kitchen is a series of rooms pieced together. Part of it is on the dock, the other part is floating."

  I nodded and made a mental note to not trip. This wasn't the time for my klutziness to take over.

  "Thank you, Mr. Wainwright. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get to work."

  He smiled. "Of course. You're an interesting young lady. I can see why he recommended you."

  "He? Mr. Boone?" I thought it was odd since I never spoke with him, only his wife Ashley.

  "No, no. Drake Winslow." He was silent for a moment. "I think I was supposed to keep that to myself." He winked as he left the room.

  I didn't know what to think. Part of me was upset for not getting this job on my own, but another part was grateful to Drake. If I wanted a successful catering business, I had to learn to accept help sometimes.

  Smiling to myself as I thought about Drake's dirty blond hair falling onto his forehead and his warm brown eyes, I began unloading the cart they wheeled into the kitchen for me. I had two hours to get everything ready, which was more than enough time. Thinking about Drake, I knew the time would fly by.

  * * *

  Everything came out perfectly. I served lobster bisque as an appetizer. For the pasta course, the wait staff delivered small bowls of angel hair carbonara with pasta I made by hand. The main entrée was a choice between steamed clams in a garlic and white wine sauce or grilled mahi mahi with lemon and capers, both served with a side of green beans almondine. My plan was to create rich dishes that could be prepared in minutes, and it worked.

  I peeked out of the kitchen and saw the dining room had transformed. With the sun now set, the view was more focused on the lights of the nearby city than the river. Without the harsh sunlight, the dining room no longer looked dated and tired. Tiny draped lights hung across the dark wood ceiling beams, making the ceiling look like stars in the night sky.

  As I surveyed the crowd, I spotted a tall redhead in a sparkly gold gown walk past. She had long curly hair like mine and despite her curvy figure, it seemed everyone's eyes were on her. I watched as she strutted back to her seat. Her date's back was to me, but it didn't matter. I'd recognize that dirty blond hair of Drake's anywhere.

  "Ugh! Asshole!" I said under my breath.

  Turning around, I accidentally knocked over a stack of clean coffee cups that were waiting to be taken to the dining room. The crash caught everyone's attention and as the kitchen door swung open, my eyes met Drake's.

  Scrambling quickly, I ran to the empty pastry kitchen, embarrassed and angry. I hoped Silas Wainwright wouldn't find out about the mess I created. This was just what I needed, the end of a perfect night punctuated by my klutziness.

  "I knew I'd find you in here."

  I closed my eyes and let out a long even breath. Just when I thought the night couldn't get worse, he had to come into the kitchen. Not bothering to look at him, I kept my position as I leaned against the cool aluminum of the ovens.

  "Good for you. Do you want a prize, Drake?"

  "No, I only want you."

  He stepped in front of me, lifted my chin, and kissed me. At once, everything fell away. My anger, my embarrassment, it was all gone. Feeling my knees go a little weak, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

  "Wait. You're here with that girl. You brought a date," I said as I pushed him away.

  "She's an actress in my movie. She means nothing to me."

  "Then why bring her?"

  "What do you want? You want me to come alone? You've made it clear how you feel," he said as he gazed into my eyes. "I think there's something here. I want a relationship with you--"

  "You don't know what you want. You're so full of shit. Go back to your date. I'm trying to work here. I'm not sure you're familiar with that, but that's how some of us make a living."

  "Samantha, listen to me."

  "No, you listen to me. I'm sick and tired of your bullshit excuses. You say we have something and you knew I'd be here, but what do you do? You bring a date. Heaven forbid Drake Winslow shows up somewhere by himself."

  "That's it then. I'm tired of this, too. I'm tired of telling you you're the one only to be pushed further away. I hope you get what you want out of life."

  I watched as he stormed out of the kitchen. Everything inside of me screamed at me to stop him, but I couldn't do it. Drake was only a distraction. Nothing secure. Sure, he talked a good talk, but I knew better.

  As I packed up my knives and everything else I brought to the Water Club, I was surprised Drake didn't come back. By the end of the evening, I felt stupid and even a little heartbroken. I convinced myself if it was meant to be, something big would happen to prove that to me. In the meantime, I had to focus on building my business. I refused to let a man keep me from my dream. Even if he was my dream guy.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Drake

  The night seemed to drag after I left Samantha. Looking at my date, all I could think about was Sam. It didn't help that my date looked like her. What was I doing? She was right, if I was so serious about her, then why would I show up with a date knowing she would be there?

  "Because I'm an idiot," I said out loud without thinking.

  "Did you say something?" Christa, my date, asked.

  "No. Never mind."

  "Oh, okay. I was just going on and on about how great the movie is going to be and how excited I am to be in it. This is such a great opportunity. Do you think maybe you could find a bigger part for me?" She batted her eyelashes at me.

  "We'll see. I really think you're perfect for this one though," I lied. "Let's get out of here."

  She stood up immediately and wrapped her hand around my arm. As we left, I tried to catch a glimpse of Samantha in the kitchen as the door opened, but I was out of luck.

  After the valet brought my midnight blue Bentley around, I helped her into the car and merged into the traffic. I thought about my beach house, my favorite place to be, and how I wished I could bring Samantha there and convince her to stay, but I needed to realize she wasn't interested. I was wrong--not every woman wanted to be with me.

  "So…maybe we can go back to your place," Christa purred in my ear as I felt her hand slowly creep up my thigh.

  "I'm taking you home," I grunted.

  "Goodie!"

  "Your home."

  "Ohh, but I thought…I really can show you a good time, you know. And maybe we can talk some more about the movie."

  And they say men have a one track mind. I shook my head and gave the car more gas. Speeding to her apartment building, my only thought was how if I couldn't be with Samantha, I'd rather be alone.

  Finally at home, the windows opened so I could listen to the crashing waves on the beach, I undid my tie and looked at the stack of boxes in the corner.

  For years I had lived there and never completely unpacked. I kept what I didn't need for day-to-day living in the spare bedroom but hadn't looked through those boxes in years. The last of the boxes were by the door on the main floor. They were things from when I was younger such as awards, yearbooks, and photos.

  Grabbing a box labeled 'home movies', I carried it into the living room and opened the box. As I pulled the t
apes out, I saw they were videos from my birthday parties and graduation. I took one from my college graduation party and connected an old VCR to the TV.

  I didn't know why I was watching it. I wasn't the sentimental type. When boredom overtook me, I hit the fast forward button.

  I saw my parents, my aunts and uncles, friends I knew all my life but could barely remember their names. Then I saw her.

  It was impossible to miss her. Her flaming red hair stood out from everything else there. I rewound the tape and hit play again until she was in the frame.

  Samantha was beautiful even then. Even in that awkward stage we all went through. When I hit play, I could see the glint of metal from the braces on her teeth, but she was nothing like the silly freckled-faced kid I remembered as Sammy.

  Fast forwarding ahead as I looked for more of her, I watched as she came up to me, her green eyes wide and hopeful as she handed me a card. Her face was as red as her hair, and I could tell she was nervous.

  I rewound the tape to watch again as I took the card from her, patted her head, then rolled my eyes at my friends and laughed. My guilt consumed me. I knew there was nothing I could do about the past and I knew kids were cruel, but I realized that this one glimpse into my past with Samantha Mayfair was her norm. That was how she expected me to treat her. No wonder she refused to believe my true intentions for her now.

  I needed to do something. I had to convince her I was real, that my feelings for her were real. We had so much history together. She understood me better than I understood myself.

  But she doesn't want you. I turned off the VCR. I couldn't watch anymore. There were other movies and I was sure she was there too, ignored and humiliated by me over and over. I needed to accept that eventually your past caught up to you. Call it karma or whatever. But now that I was the one looking at her with puppy dog eyes, she was pushing me away and probably laughing about it with her own friends. It was time to move on.