Some Like It Spicy

by Robbie Terman

  He pushed open the door to a light crowd. Most of the tables were filled, and a few people lingered around the hostess stand.

  Visually, the restaurant looked the same as the last time he’d been there. Square tables with crisp white linens, an oak bar abutting an interior brick wall, a wood-burning pizza oven in the corner filling the room with heavenly scents. He’d picked out every piece of furniture, every dish, every utensil. Yet, somehow, he felt like he’d walked into a new place for the very first time.

  “Oh my God!” He heard a screech, instantly recognizing the high-pitched squeal. His sister Ruby flew from the back and leaped into his arms. He caught her midair and twirled her around.

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” She hugged him tightly. “Why didn’t you call? I would have picked you up.”

  “Surprise.”

  “It’s a great surprise.” She gave him a squeeze before letting him go. “You look fantastic. Almost as good in person as on television.”

  He pinched her playfully. “Thanks a lot. You look beautiful.” Ruby was a young, female version of him, with the same dark hair and the same piercing hazel eyes. But what made her most beautiful was her enormous smile that she loved to share.

  “Ugh, I’m not beautiful, I’m an old mom,” she said with an eye roll. “The kids are aging me way before my time.” She grabbed his hand. “Come back and see Denny. He’s in the kitchen. I’m going to call Mom and Dad to come over and bring the kids, so we can have dinner.”

  “I thought I’d pitch in and help out,” he told her as they walked toward the kitchen. “Are you booked tonight?”

  “Pretty much,” she said over her shoulder. “But we always hold a few tables back for walk-ins. You’re on vacation, Ty. We’re not going to put you to work.”

  They pushed through the swinging doors. “Look who’s here,” she called. A half-dozen heads turned toward them; the only one Ty recognized was his brother-in-law, Denny.

  Denny put down the herbs he was chopping and walked over with an outstretched hand. “Good to see you, bro. We didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”

  “Change of plans. How are things going here? Everything looks terrific.”

  “Thanks,” Denny said proudly. “Business has been really good. Let me introduce you to the staff.”

  Ty shook hands with three men and two women, who were all excited to meet him, and chatted with them for a few minutes. “Do you need some help tonight?” he asked Denny. “I’m ready to cook.”

  “We’re fine. You haven’t seen the family in a year. Enjoy yourself. We’ve got everything under control.”

  “O-kay,” Ty said slowly. “I’ll just get a drink and visit with Ruby.” He left the kitchen feeling like he’d been kicked out. Worse, it hadn’t even felt like his kitchen.

  He sat down at the bar and ordered bourbon.

  Ruby stopped next to him. “Let me just get the hostess settled, and we’ll talk. I want to hear all about this sex tape.”

  Ty groaned. If Ruby knew about the tape, then his parents did, too.

  As he waited for his sister, a few of the diners recognized him and asked for his autograph. He was grateful when none of them mentioned the show. One elderly lady, though, pinched his bottom and gave him a wink.

  “So,” Ruby said, returning and plopping onto the stool next to him, “how’s Ashton?”

  “I came here to get away from all that.”

  “Not good, then,” she figured out. “I guess we won’t be meeting her. Too bad. She seemed interesting. And flexible, if that tape is anything to go by.”

  He pinched her on the arm until she squirmed. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

  “My brother starring in a sex tape?” She shook her head. “Never. Did you get into trouble because of it?”

  “Yeah. It definitely changes things. I may be—”

  “Ty!”

  He turned and saw his mother rushing to him, arms spread open. He let the small, gray-haired woman envelop him in a bear hug tight enough to kill a small animal.

  “Hi, Mom,” he said against her neck. “It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you, too.” She leaned back. “Especially with your clothes on.”

  “Mom!” His cheeks heated.

  Behind his mother stood his father, a bemused twinkle in his eyes. “Good for you, son. She’s a real beauty. When do we get to meet her?”

  “We’re not together,” he told his parents and Ruby. “The whole thing was a mistake. A huge mistake.”

  “Uncle Ty!” two sweet, young voices shouted. Lucas and Maryanne wrapped their small arms around his waist.

  He bent to hug them more fully. “You two are huge. How old are you? Twenty? Twenty-five?”

  Maryanne giggled in that way children do, with both her hands covering her mouth as she shook with laughter. “No, Uncle Ty. I’m seven.”

  “And I’m nine,” Lucas said proudly.

  “You’ve gotten so big since the last time I saw you,” Ty said, just as he realized he hadn’t seen them, except in pictures, in nearly a year. In child-years, they may as well have been twenty.

  “Daddy is going to make us dinner,” Ruby told the kids. “I have a table for us.”

  He followed his family to a six-top near the back of the restaurant. Denny came out of the kitchen to greet his kids and in-laws.

  “You can have anything you’d like,” Denny told him. “I’ll make it up.”

  “Naw, I’ll order off the menu,” Ty said. “I’ve been dreaming of this food for too long.” He opened a menu, scanning. Like the staff, he barely recognized the menu. He looked up at Denny. “This is different. We have chicken and waffles now?”

  Denny’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yeah. Remember about a year and a half ago? I asked if I could make some changes to the menu and you said okay. I told you I’d send it for your approval, but you said to do whatever I wanted.”

  Ty vaguely remembered. The call had come when Ty was neck-deep in a Brazilian model. At that point, Ty would have agreed to serve dog food and cat treats.

  “The waffles and chicken is our most popular dish,” Ruby told him. “It was voted best dish by the Atlanta Journal last year. Remember, I sent you the clipping.”

  Oh, right. That day he’d been comparing Italian and French cuisine, namely Fiava Bianka and Ariel Alexandre, whom he’d met at New York’s Fashion Week. His stomach rumbled, and not from hunger. He literally made himself sick.

  “I guess I’ll have to try the famous waffles and chicken,” Ty said, closing the menu.

  Denny slapped him on the shoulder. “You got it, bro.”

  Ty spent the night in the house he’d bought for his parents two years ago. The next day, they closed the restaurant from noon to three for his mother’s birthday party.

  Ruby and the kids had decorated with streamers and banners, and forty friends and family members gathered for the party. Ty took a lot of good-natured ribbing about the tape and his relationship with Ashton. He laughed it off, aware that defending them would only fuel more jokes.

  When it got to be too much, he hid in the kitchen. His mother found him there, helping a prep chef chop vegetables for the night’s service.

  “Too much family?” she guessed, putting an arm around him.

  He hugged her back. “Of course not. I’ve missed all of you. I’ve just… I have a lot on my mind.”

  “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

  He never could lie to his mother. He nodded.

  “What’s the reason you’re not together, then? The real reason.”

  “She doesn’t love me,” he said simply. “I love her, but she doesn’t love me.”

  “Did you tell her you loved her?” his mother asked.

  “No,” he said sheepishly. “There was no point. She told me there was nothing more between us than se—” He cut off and started again. “Nothing more than a physical relationship. There was no point in opening a wound,
just so she could throw salt in it.”

  “Maybe she was protecting herself,” his mother said. “Maybe she wasn’t sure how you felt. Is she the type of woman to easily share her feelings?”

  “Ashton?” He snorted. “Not at all.”

  His mom gave him that all-knowing, motherly stare. “If you really love her, then take the risk. Tell her how you feel. If she doesn’t love you, at least you know you put yourself out there.”

  He hugged his mom tightly. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. All I want is for you to be happy. That’s all any of us want. We don’t care what you do as long as it’s what you want. That’s what family is all about.”

  She’s right, he realized as he watched her walk away. He’d been so worried about what would happen to other people if he quit, he’d forgotten the most important thing—they’d love him no matter what.

  He knew what he had to do.

  He waited until the last guest cleared out, and only his parents, Ruby, and Denny were left. The kids had gone to their friends’ for a sleepover.

  “I made a decision,” he told them. The dull ache that had lodged in his chest for the past year dissipated. “I’m signing over ownership of the restaurant to Denny and Ruby.”

  Denny’s mouth fell open as Ruby gasped. “Why?” Ruby asked, shock written on her face.

  “Because this is your restaurant,” he told them. “Not mine.”

  “If I was out of line with the changes—” Denny started.

  But Ty cut him off. “Your changes have been great. The food is terrific, the clientele steady. You’ve made this place your own. You can keep the name and all menu items, but you deserve to have all the profits yourself.”

  Ruby stood and wrapped her arms around his waist. “What about you?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” he told her truthfully. “But as much as I love you, it doesn’t involve coming back to Atlanta. Probably another restaurant. Maybe in New York. Or Chicago.”

  “Chicago?” His mother raised an eyebrow. “Does this mean…?”

  He grinned at her. “That it’s time to put myself out there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ashton was going stir crazy. She’d been in the hotel suite since the afternoon before. Last night had been spent in a pity party of tears after seeing Ty. The thought that he’d betray her nearly crushed her heart. How could he possibly love her if he was willing to do something so callous to save his career? How could she ever forgive him?

  She and Jolene had ordered enough desserts from room service to put on ten pounds (Jolene had barely nibbled, while Ashton had eaten her weight). She’d thought the tears would never end, that her chest would never stop aching. But when she’d woken up this morning, she’d had nothing more to give. She felt empty, dry.

  Since then, she’d been lying around the suite without anything to do. Jolene had left hours earlier to meet up with a friend. Ashton couldn’t find anything on television that didn’t have her face on it, she couldn’t concentrate on reading, and the suite didn’t have a kitchen. All she could do was think.

  If she didn’t get out of there, at least for a little while, she’d go insane. Scooping up a baseball cap and sunglasses, she decided to have a drink in the hotel’s bar. Hopefully, no one would recognize her, but she’d be close enough to her room if someone did.

  When she walked into the bar, it was she who did the recognizing. Her father sat, alone, at a round bistro table by the window.

  She should go back upstairs—run, actually. Get away from him and his toxic attitude. Yet, her feet moved her to him. “Dad,” she said when she reached his table.

  He looked up from his whiskey neat, surprise on his face. “Ashton, what are you doing here?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  “Your producer gave us two tickets to the show’s finale. Your mother and I just flew in. She didn’t tell you?”

  Ashton shook her head. She hadn’t actually spoken to her mother since the home visit. “I didn’t think you cared about the show.”

  “My agent thought it was a good idea,” he said. “I’ve mostly done magazines and books. He thinks this might be a pathway to television. There are a lot of cooking shows out there.”

  “So you’re here for you,” she said, her hands fisted at her sides. “Not for me.”

  “Why would you need me here?” he scoffed. “There’s nothing I can do to help your cooking.”

  The child inside her told her to flee, just as she’d done all through her childhood. Just as she still did. He hurt her and she let him get away with it. And just as Ty had told her, she took it out on everyone else.

  No more.

  She opened her fists and slammed them on the table, tipping over the whiskey glass. “You are a real bastard.”

  He couldn’t have looked more shocked if she’d thrown the drink in his face. In her entire life, she’d never raised her voice to him, never sworn at him. “Young lady, how dare—”

  “Enough,” she said. Hot tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let even one fall. “You don’t get to speak now. It’s my turn. My whole life, all you’ve done is speak. And it was always a voice of criticism. I’m not one of your assignments; I’m your daughter. But you can’t tell the difference. You can’t separate the personal from professional. And it isn’t because you’re so dedicated to your job; it’s because you’re a mean-spirited person. You enjoy mocking people, putting them down and seeing pain in their eyes. It makes you feel superior. Well, let me tell you something, Dad. You’re not superior. You’re a weak, pathetic, little man. And you don’t get to hurt me any longer. You and I are done. I’m not going to waste one more second of my life looking for your approval or pushing people away because I’m afraid of what they’ll say. You have no power. Not anymore.”

  She straightened, taking in a breath, unable to believe what she’d said. All of a sudden, she heard applause. Twirling around, she saw the crowd of people in the bar applauding and whistling for her.

  She should have been embarrassed, but all she felt was invigorated. The anger that had filled her for so long seeped from her pores, out of her body. She was finally free.

  Ashton turned and strode toward the entrance, leaving her father behind.

  …

  Late the next afternoon, a car picked up Jolene and Ashton at the hotel and took them to the studio to film the finale.

  For the first time in a long time, Ashton had woken with a smile on her face. She didn’t know what would happen today. She didn’t know if Ty would do as the network asked and fix the competition. But she did know that however today turned out, she had a bright future ahead of her, and she was going to make her mark on the culinary world.

  Once the anger in her had slid away, so had her fury at Ty. How could she blame him for looking out for his own interests when she’d done the same? She couldn’t expect him to pick her over his career, especially when she’d never admitted her feelings to him.

  Because the paparazzi were camped out at the front door, the car took her and Jolene to the back. After the winner was announced, they’d both be expected to give interviews, something Ashton dreaded.

  They walked into the studio and were bombarded by cries. Jolene’s large family circled around her, creating enough noise to be heard in the next state.

  Two cries were for Ashton.

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” Ashton exclaimed, putting her arms around Jenna and Chloe in a group hug.

  “Surprise,” Jenna said.

  “You didn’t really think we’d miss it?” Chloe added.

  “Ashton.”

  She stiffened at the sound of her father’s voice and then let her shoulders relax. He’d lost the power to hurt her; she didn’t have to be afraid to face him.

  “Yes?” She turned to him, expecting a cutting comment, a glare, or a smile that a snake would appreciate.

  Instead, he looked like he’d aged overnight.
Dark shadows welled under his eyes, his beard straggly instead of neatly trimmed. And the expression on his face…was it remorse?

  She saw him swallow several times. Next to him, her mother nudged him not so gently on the arm. “Tell her.”

  Ashton’s mouth fell open. Had her mother just given her father a command?

  “Ashton.” Charles swallowed again, his gaze darting among Chloe, Jenna, and his wife before settling on Ashton. “Good luck.”

  She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d pulled out flaming batons and started twirling. “Th-thanks, Dad,” she stammered.

  She looked at her mom, stunned.

  Even more stunning, her mother reached for her, grabbing her hands and squeezing warmly. “Ashton, when you get back to Chicago, will you come to the house? The three of us…I think we have a lot to talk about.”

  Ashton’s hesitation was brief. It would take more than an apology to wipe out years of hurt, but she was willing to work on their relationship, willing to try for a better future. “I’d like that.”

  Charles cleared his throat. “We should get to our seats. We’ll speak to you after the show.”

  Once they’d left, Ashton looked back at her friends. “Am I dreaming?”

  Chloe shook her head in amazement. “No. But those poor people in hell—bet they never thought they’d need a winter coat.”

  The three of them laughed.

  “Ladies,” Sally said, coming up behind them, “the show is going to start shortly. Please take your seats.”

  Jenna and Chloe gave her one last hug.

  “No matter what happens,” Jenna whispered in her ear, “you’ll always be a winner to us.”

  “Thanks,” Ashton said, touched. “See you later.”

  She started toward the couch, where Jolene already sat. The format of tonight’s show would be different than the others, in that they would not be cooking. There would be clips from the season, chatting with eliminated chefs, as well as questions viewers had sent in. Ashton fully anticipated her and Ty’s relationship to come up, and she still had no idea what she was going to say.