“Ah... that’s a little scary. I mean, he’s hot. For damn sure. But he fucks anything that walks.” She shoots her drink.
We all laugh. She's not wrong. He does get a lot of ass. However, Rex wouldn't try to get up Calla's skirt. He knows Ben and my brothers would fucking kill him. Not to mention, I called dibs years ago, and we stick to the bro code when it comes to Calla.
“So, what did the new girl give you?” Trey asks.
“It tastes like a three wise men, but there’s something added,” she answers.
“I think she added Bacardi 151,” I supply, glancing around the bar.
“Hell, she gave you a four horsemen! Nice.” Adam smirks. “You’re going to be toast in the morning. Maybe we shouldn’t expect you at all tomorrow?”
“How was dinner?” I cut in.
Calla finishes her drink and picks up the other, but waves down a server. A cute, petite blonde steps up to the table and collects the empty bottles and glasses.
“You want another water sweetie?” the server asks.
“Please. It seems your boss really wants me intoxicated.” Calla smirks.
Everyone at the table takes a drink.
“He does like to give the pretty ones a bit of alcohol. Just be careful. He flirts with everyone,” the server comments as she turns and walks off.
Adam, Trey, and I spit out our beer as we try not to choke.
“I’d say Rex has fucked her once or twice. See... this is what I’m talking about. Even if he doesn’t truly try to fuck every female with legs, everyone thinks he does.” Calla wipes beer off her arms from where Trey sprayed her.
“Sorry, Calla. Send me the dry cleaning bill,” Trey apologizes as he wipes his mouth.
The server comes back quickly with a bottle of water, three beers, and a rag. She cleans off the table and leaves in a rush.
“She has no idea we are friends with Rex.” Adam takes a sip of his beer.
We nod in agreement.
“So dinner?” Adam prompts Calla.
“It was good. I met Emile and his wife. They seem nice. Really good food. If we can, we may want to see if, on occasion, we can order out before the dinner rush begins. Just to give us, and the rest of the staff, a break.” Calla fidgets on her stool.
“I’ll see if we can work it into the budget,” Trey says.
“I want to talk to you guys about something else that we didn’t talk about earlier today. I’ve been thinking about this for some time now, but we haven’t really been in a spot to talk about it. I’m not sure if now is a good time to talk about it either, but I want to make the offer.” She bites her lower lip. “I know I’ve been slacking in my abilities in the kitchen since… well, you know. But, I’m working on fixing that. I think tonight has helped a bunch. That’s why I haven’t brought this up before, though.”
I place my hand on her knee and squeeze like I used to do when we were in college.
“Calla, just spit it out. No need to beat around the bush,” Trey pipes in.
“I want to offer y’all and Forest the option of becoming my partners in Belladonna. I have four silent partners who I’ve never met. I don’t even know their names. It’s under a corporation, and I can’t think of the corporation’s name right now. Anyway, y’all are pretty much partners, just without the formal acknowledgement. It’s up to you, but I’d like y’all to have the acknowledgments. If you want them.”
“Holy,” Trey starts.
“Fuck,” Adam finishes.
“Sweetheart, are you sure? Belladonna is your baby and has been your dream for years.” I turn slightly to face Calla, my hand still on her knee.
Now, my hand is shaking. And for good reason.
How am I going to be a partner and a silent partner? Fuck! I’m going to need to make some phone calls in the morning. Ben, Noah, and Sam are going to have a field day with this news.
Chapter 9
Calla
Sunlight shines through the tall windows in my room, making me stir. I pull the covers up over my head to block out the sun as my head pounds to its own beat. The buzzing of my phone alarm rings out, and I stretch across the king-sized bed to tap the snooze button before snuggling down under the blankets again.
Four minutes pass before the alarm blares again.
“Fuck,” I moan out.
Baggie’s head bumps into mine, and I crack my eyes open.
“Morning, handsome,” I croak out and scratch under his chin.
Baggie stretches his neck into my hand, giving me better access.
“Meow,” comes his soft voice. He yawns big, showing his teeth.
He nudges his head on my hand as I push the covers off and swing my legs over the side of the bed. My feet touch the shag rug that covers the hardwood floor, and I rub my temples that still have a drum banging between them.
“Are you hungry Baggie?” I ask, as I slowly rise to stand. “Let me grab some meds first.”
“Meow.”
I cross my room and enter the bathroom, quickly doing my daily routine. I brush my teeth to get rid of the extreme cotton-mouth feeling. Finally able to stand my own mouth, I grab a bottle of ibuprofen from the cabinet. I head down the hall, through the living room, and into my kitchen.
Baggie nips at my hand as I scoop the cat food into his bowl and place it on the floor next to the water dish. He starts purring as he eats, and I stroke his sleek, black fur. After a few moments of petting Baggie, I walk into the kitchen to the fridge. Opening both side-by-side doors simultaneously, I grab the brown eggs, turkey sausage, sharp white cheddar cheese, and the fresh salsa.
Let's do this.
Once again, I assemble all my ingredients, combine and season them, and heat up the oil in the skillet. As I slowly pour the mixture into the pan, amazing smells begin to filter through the kitchen. Still a bit hungover, I zone out. Before I know it, the amazing smells quickly turn to burnt-egg smell, and my stomach revolts.
Unbelievable!
I quickly turn off the burner, toss the ruined omelet in the sink, and slam the skillet back onto the stovetop.
“Damn it!” I yell, as I storm out of the kitchen.
I stand to the right of the concrete stoop, gently placing my white earbuds into my ears before clicking the music icon on my phone. I find my favorite running song, push play, and slowly head north about a block up West Avenue toward Martin Luther King Boulevard. When I reach the corner, the white lights of the crosswalk light up, and I dash across Martin Luther King Boulevard, heading east to Guadalupe Street, and UT, for my normal run.
The three-and-a-half blocks seem too slow. Like something is holding me back. As I hit the corner of Martin Luther King Boulevard and Guadalupe Street, another favorite song blares from my phone; Hate Me by Blue October. I begin to block out the people on the street as I speed up... and run right into Torrance and his fiancée, causing them to spill their drinks from the coffee shop they just exited.
I lock eyes with Torrance, smile slightly, and dart away from him as fast as I can. I run up Guadalupe for six blocks before starting my journey in and around UT, where the trail crisscrosses through campus. When I finally exit the campus, I head down to 15th Street before running the ten blocks west toward West Avenue. I slow to a walk to cool down for the last three blocks back to my building. Today, not only does my head throb, but my feet ache when I make it into the building and up to my loft.
I enter the loft, kicking off my shoes and undressing. I’m hot, sticky, and sweat is pouring off of me. On my way to the bathroom, I stop in the kitchen for some water. Baggie follows behind me.
“Why can't I do anything without seeing that ass?! Does he do it on purpose? This town really isn't big enough for the two of us,” I grumble, stomping down the hallway.
Turning on the shower faucet, I notice the water isn’t getting warm.
“What the hell else can go wrong today?” I growl, checking the time on my watch as I remove it.
I cautiously step in the shower then
quickly shave and wash my hair and body before stepping out. Hurriedly, I towel myself off to get warm. After my morning bathroom routine, I walk out of the bathroom into my bedroom. I pull on my most comfortable non-holey jeans, and a thin, white Dallas Cowboys T-shirt with Ben’s number on it for the game.
In the kitchen, I attempt another breakfast. This time I decide to make two eggs over medium, home fries, two turkey sausages, and a side of fruit salad made with strawberries, bananas, and grapes. I also manage to boil some water for tea. Surprisingly, my little brunch turns out perfectly.
“What the hell is wrong with my cooking? Why can’t I cook more complicated dishes like I used to? I have to get a handle on this,” I mumble to myself as I plate my breakfast.
I pour the boiling water into a mug and steep the chocolate-flavored tea. Then I pick up my brunch, the newspaper that's lying on the counter, and my mug before strolling to the dining room table.
While I eat breakfast, I start flipping through the paper, when I come across an engagement announcement in the food section.
Torrance Henderson, one of Austin’s well-known food critics, announced his engagement today. The big day is set for October 31, just a little over a month away.
“Asshole!” I drop my fork, shove my plate away, and run to the restroom.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and send a text to the guys.
Calla: I’ve had a shitty morning. I’m running to the farmer’s market. Will be in after.
Trey: Are you hungover?
Calla: Not really. Other bullshit.
Wes: You saw the announcement?
Calla: Yes, but that was after I fucking literally ran into them on the street during my run.
Wes: Well, shit.
Trey: Are you okay?
Calla: Yep.
I slip the phone back in my pocket.
I roam around the market, buying the different herbs and flowers we need for the restaurant. As I am finishing up my shopping, I decide to make something special for the afternoon meeting. I come across some jumbo prawns and shrimp that will go nicely in a new pasta dish I’ve been creating. I pick up two pounds of each and go to pay.
“How much for four pounds?” I ask the vendor.
“One hundred dollars,” he responds, taking the packages from me.
“Are you freaking kidding? I've never paid that!” I raise my brow and shift my bags.
“Calla, demand is going up, and your cooking is going down.” He places the shrimp on the scale and crosses his arms.
“What the hell? I’m not paying that.” I storm off toward my car.
A prickling sensation starts on the back of my neck. I feel as if the other chefs in the market are staring and judging me. As I get to my car, and am putting my packages in the trunk, another chef comes up behind me and hands me a big parcel. I look up at him. “Thank you,” I manage as I reach in my back pocket to grab some money to pay him. He simply shakes his head and walks away.
Chapter 10
Calla
I’m the first to arrive at the restaurant and somehow manage to carry in all the bags and flowers from the market in one trip. I lift everything onto the stainless-steel counter and quickly head to the docking station and turn on some music. In preparation for dinner, I clean the kitchen before making my way into the office. There I find that I need to call my main food and wine vendors.
My desk is littered with notes asking if I have ordered this or that. A few notes state they need pounds of chocolate, butter, whiskey, and Cab.
Calla,
We didn’t receive the three cases of Cab we ordered on Tuesday. Can you call? We need them today.
Adam
Why didn’t they call me yesterday and tell me they needed all this? I toss my hands up in frustration. Taking a seat, I pull out my laptop and place it on the docking station before rifling around my desk for the office phone.
The first three calls proceed smoothly, and my mood lifts. In between calls, I take a few minutes to find ESPN on my computer and listen to the pre-game commentators and their predictions. Dialing Adam’s wine vendor, I drum my fingers on the desk as I wait for someone to answer. I try calling the wine vendor three times before finally getting ahold of someone.
“Joe, it’s Calla. Adam left me a note that three boxes of Cab didn’t arrive yesterday. Will someone be able to deliver those today?”
“Calla, we delivered everything that was ordered.”
“Joe, I’m looking at the invoice, and what is checked off by your driver. Even he wrote down that he only had one of the four cases we ordered.”
“Well, I don’t have anything stating that, so until I do, I’m not having anything delivered.”
“Joe, I’m not going to pay for the cases we didn’t receive. And I’ll be honest, I’m going to have Adam start looking for a different vendor if we’re going to continue to have these kinds of issues with you.”
“I don’t think Adam will find a better deal than what we give you, but he’s more than welcome to try. That said, you still need to pay for those cases.”
“We’ll agree to disagree on that. I’ll send this invoice, along with your driver's notes, to the home office and see what they say,” I retort before disconnecting.
I huff out a long breath.
“This is going to be a close game tonight. Bond might have his work cut out for him against Watt next week if he keeps playing like this,” the analyst remarks.
“Ben always has issues when it comes to J.J.! He needs to pull his head out of his ass!” I mutter, walking out of the office.
Making my way over to where the bags from the farmers market lay on the prep table, I pull out the package the chef gave me and set it aside then finish emptying the bags and placing the food on the different station counters for my kitchen staff. On my way into the dining room, I grab the flowers, taking them to the bar for Nessa.
Returning to the kitchen, I pick up the package the chef from the market had chased me down to give me. Taking the brown paper package over to my workstation, I unwrap the butcher paper and blink twice in surprise at all the prawns and shrimp. By my estimation, there is more than the four pounds I’d originally asked for.
Wrapping the crustaceans back up, I move to the sink, picking up a pot on my way. I fill the pot and slowly carry it back to the stove to start the water boiling. Walking back to my counter, I pull out my knives, opening the case in search of my paring knife and shears. With my tools assembled on the table, I grab two bowls from under the counter and place them next to the mix of shrimp and prawns. Then I unwrap the butcher paper once more and get to work peeling and deveining the crustaceans.
A little over an hour passes as I peel and devein both the shrimp and prawns. I trash the waste as I head toward the office where Wes, Trey, and I have set up a little makeshift herb garden. I break off some of the herbs I want to try in the concoction before walking over to counter I’d left the butternut squash on.
“I’m glad I picked up two of these bad boys,” I say out loud to myself.
I take everything back to my area and pull out my knives again. This time, I pick out a larger one before closing the bag and placing it back under my table. Adele’s voice pours out of the speakers, and I start singing along with her as I sharpen my knives. I’m completely absorbed in the music and cutting the squash.
“So this is what you do when no one's here?” Adam chuckles.
I jump and scream.
He stands in the doorway dressed in his black pin-striped pants and a French blue button-up shirt.
“Fuck!” I scream when the knife nicks my finger because I’m not paying attention to what I’m doing.
Adam rushes over, taking my hand in his and inspecting the cut. He drags me over to the sink and washes my injured finger.
“It's not deep. Use the iodine then let’s get the first aid kit from the office. I’m pretty sure it just nicked me,” I tell him, wincing.
“Nessa!” Adam calls out.
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The kitchen door swings open, and Nessa walks in with Wes and Trey.
“Will one of you go get the first aid kit please? I startled Calla while she was cutting the butternut squash, and she cut herself,” Adam says then focuses back on me. “What are we going to do with you?”
“Hey, I was just working. You’re the one that scared the fuck out of me!” I crack up laughing, and Adam joins in.
Nessa brings over the first aid kit and helps Adam finish cleaning and bandaging my finger.
Trey and Wes bustle around my workstation not saying anything, but each one glances over in my general direction as they work.
“We cleaned your knife and threw out the food that was near the blood. There wasn’t much of it, so whatever you're up to, you should still have plenty of food to work with,” Wes informs me as he heads into the office to get a few things done.
“Would you like some help with that?” Trey points over his shoulder at my prep area.
“That would be great. I still have a few things to finish before the staff arrive.”
“Tell me what you need,” Trey says, as we walk back to where I’d been working on the squash.
“Adam, I need to talk to you while we work on this recipe.” I pick up my knife again. “Trey, can you start cutting that second squash too? Then we need onion and garlic.”
“What are you concocting?” Trey asks.
“A butternut squash alfredo with grilled prawns and shrimp. Oh, I want baby bellas in it too. We still have some, don’t we?”
“Yes, they’re in the fridge.”
“Cool.” I finish cutting my squash into chunks. “So Adam, I called Joe, and he said we have all the Cab we ordered. He didn’t want to listen to the fact that even his delivery person said we were missing three cases. I need you to start looking for a new vendor. I’ll email the main office, but I’m not dealing with Joe anymore. He’s an ass, and I’m done. I already told him we’re not paying for the cases we didn’t receive.”
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