Independence Day 2

by Christiane France

  "Well, before you get a sore throat from singing her praises, I should mention she now wants crab as the main ingredient for the fish stew and that, my friend, could be a very big problem."

  "How's that? Crab in short supply or something?"

  "Not in the way you mean," Trip replied, frowning. "Our seafood supplier had a bad fire at his warehouse a couple of nights ago, something to do with faulty electrical wiring. Now, he reckons it could be a month or more before he has everything back on track and is able to guarantee deliveries again."

  "You have a back-up supplier?"

  "We do, but he says he's taken on a lot of extra orders due to our regular guy being out, so now he's reluctant to make promises. If you know of anyone, let me know."

  "I used a couple of small suppliers when I had my own place," Nick replied. "But that was small stuff compared to this. I have no idea if they can supply in any real quantity."

  "In that case, why don't you give my assistant, Jim, the necessary info, and he can take it from there."

  Nick pulled out his cell and checked the names in the directory. He'd tidied up the list since selling his own place and coming to work here, but he'd kept all the important stuff like the names of suppliers he'd dealt with for years, just in case. "Good. I still have them on here, so I'll give Jim a call. Now what's this about the tirasmu? I wasn't planning on serving any. It's been way too overdone."

  "Silvia's feelings exactly." Trip laughed and shook his head. "To use her exact words, she said if we served that we might as well save ourselves a whole lot of trouble and make do with spaghetti and meatballs for the entrée." He hesitated, frowning. "So what are you planning for the dessert?"

  Nick rolled his eyes and sighed. "A fabulous Sicilian cassata full of the finest Italian ricotta, chocolate chips and fresh fruit. And if our new sous-chef will oblige us with his specialty, sfogliatelle, we'll have the guests' eyes popping right out of their celebrity heads."

  "Sssf... What's that?"

  "A classic Italian pastry filled with ricotta and candied orange peel. It has a taste that's out of this world, and it originated in Naples where Enzio's family is from and where he learned how to make it."

  "Sounds great. And once we have a supply of crab guaranteed, we'll be all set to go?"

  "Looks that way." Nick quickly ran through the checklist he kept in his head. "Provided my old contacts are able to come through with sufficient king crab, and there are no early frosts, international disasters, or other unforeseen events, we should be just fine."

  "And if anything should go wrong?"

  Nick shrugged. "If all else fails, we have plenty of canned tuna and melba toast. We'll just have to improvise. Maybe I should prepare a ton of meatballs, just in case. What do you think?"

  * * * *

  With their meeting over, Trip stood up and punched Nick lightly on the arm. "Don't even joke about stuff like that."

  Much as he wanted to stay and chat, maybe ask if Nick had heard anything from his friend Al, he had a whole string of other problems waiting for his attention and that was just as well. Asking about Al was dangerous ground. All he could do was wait for Nick to realize he was stressing himself out for nothing and let Al go. Until he did, whatever was or was not going on between Nick and his on-again, off-again lover was none of Trip's business.

  As he turned to leave, he remembered one other thing Silvia had mentioned. "In case you didn't hear, Silvia's upped the guest list again. And there's still two weeks to go before the party."

  "I heard. When she doubled the original fifty, I figured two hundred would be a safer number to work with. Think I should add another fifty?"

  Trip made a face. "Why not? Take away the partitions that form the private dining rooms and there's enough space to seat three hundred. Silvia knows that. Anyway, the hotel has enough restaurants to use up any excess food, so there's no way anything will go to waste. I say add whatever you think is necessary, but maybe err a little on the side of caution, agreed?"

  As he left Nick and made his way back to his office, Trip thought about Nick and the crushing weight of the personal problems he knew his friend was under. Trip was pretty sure if he'd been in Nick's place, he'd have told Al to go stuff such a stupid, self-serving idea as a marriage of convenience right from the start. It was hard for Trip to believe anyone with half a brain, never mind an educated man such as Al, would buy into such a bizarre plan. The fact he'd had the nerve to ask the person he professed to love to go along with it blew Trip's mind.

  In some ways, Trip could understand Nick feeling compelled to support Al's ambitions. The two of them had been together for years so Nick was heavily invested in an emotional sense. But so what? Love could only be stretched so far and, in Trip's opinion, the kind of sacrifice Nick had been expected to make was way too much to ask of anyone. Marriages and every other type of relationship that were supposed to last forever broke up all the time. People changed and so did their goals and ambitions.

  It broke Trip's heart to have to stand by and watch his friend tear himself to shreds over a piece of shit like Al Martinsen. Still, if Nick couldn't figure all that out for himself, there was nothing Trip could do... Except maybe hang around and help Nick to pick up the pieces if and when that day arrived.

  * * * *

  After Trip left, Nick ran his fingers over the spot where Trip had punched him on his arm. The blow hadn't been hard enough to leave a mark, but Nick could still feel a slight tingle, just enough to set his imagination on fire and to wonder if Trip touched him in other, more sensitive places, if it would have the same effect. He could imagine the two of them naked, stretched out on his bed and--

  As the thoughts traveled down his body and settled in his cock, he sucked in a breath and forced his thoughts away from Trip and back to the job at hand. He was supposed to be working, damn it, not behaving like a teenager, lusting over his first crush.

  Grabbing the notepad he kept by the phone, he decided to go along with Trip's suggestion and double up on everything right now. Better to have too much than too little, and adding another dozen or so of this or that along the way as Silvia sent out more and more invitations could get confusing. With this in mind, Nick called Jim, Trip's assistant, gave him the phone numbers of the seafood suppliers he'd used when he had his own restaurant and told Jim to mention his name when called them.

  "And what if they can't help us?" Jim asked, the negative tone of his voice alerting Nick to the fact he'd probably run out of places to call.

  "Then we'll have a very big problem on our hands. Let me know, okay?"

  Nick put down the phone and went to look for Enzio. He had a feeling his former employee would be delighted when he discovered his first task at his new job would be to make cassata and sfogliatelle for three hundred guests.

  When he finally found him, Enzio was sitting at a table in the back of the hotel's main kitchen, drinking black coffee and peeling oranges.

  "Good trip down?" Nick inquired.

  "It was great. And I have a room here for a few days while I find somewhere to live."

  "If you have any problems finding a place, let me know, okay? What are you up to with that?" Nick asked, indicating the pile of thinly peeled orange rind.

  Enzio grinned. "Sooner or later I know you're going to want me to make sfogliatelle, so I talked to the kitchen supervisor. He told me about the opening party for the new restaurant and he agreed I should get a head start. He thought I should figure on enough for about a hundred and fifty guests."

  "Make that three hundred and add Sicilian cassata to your list as well."

  "Fresh fruit or candied for the cassata?" Enzio asked.

  "How about half and half?"

  "Sounds like a plan. By the way, boss..." Enzio hesitated, appearing a little embarrassed. "You been back home recently?"

  "Not since I left. Why?"

  "You still in touch with any of the old gang?"

  "To be honest, no. I haven't really had the time. Why? What
's happened? Something I should know about?"

  Enzio kept his eyes firmly fixed on the orange in his hands. "I probably shouldn't even be bringing this up because it's none of my business, but I thought maybe--"

  "Bring what up? Come on. I'm busy. I gotta go, so whatever it is, just spit it out."

  Color flamed in Enzio's face and he put down the knife he was using. "Just wondering if you'd heard the latest news about your old friend, Al."

  Although tempted to say he wasn't interested, Nick's muscles tensed and he raised his eyebrows inquiringly. "What news is that? Has he finally achieved his ambition to become a partner at Hilldale?"

  "I don't know anything about that. What I mean is, he's about to become a father. I'd heard some talk, and if it had just been a rumor making the rounds, I wouldn't have said anything. But I know it's true for a fact. I ran into Missy a couple of days ago at the market, and it's plain as the nose on your face she's--"

  Nick's mind went blank, his gut contracted, his chest felt tight and there was this awful ringing sound in his ears. He didn't know if he was about to pass out, throw up, or heaven forbid, if he was having a stroke.

  "Hey, Nick? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought you might want to know. You okay?"

  The only thing Nick knew for sure was he felt like his heart had been ripped out of his body without benefit of any anesthetic. He needed to get away, preferably under his own steam, and find some quiet corner where he could hide out and try to get his head around what he'd just learned. The idea of Al and Missy playing daddy and mommy was too ludicrous to contemplate. The mere thought made him want to throw up. Anyway, it couldn't possibly be true. Enzio was wrong.

  "Nick?" He felt Enzio reach across the table and grip his arm. "Please, Nick, talk to me. I'm really sorry. I thought at first I should maybe keep my mouth shut. Then, I figured someone had to tell you and it might as well be me."

  "Thanks for nothing, friend." Nick snatched his arm away. "Where did you hear such rubbish? Who told you?"

  "Like I said, I'd heard rumors, and then I ran into Missy, and I saw her with my own two eyes. She has a belly sticking out to here." Enzio held his hand a few inches in front of his own belly.

  "And she told you she was pregnant?"

  "She didn't need to. Anyone with eyes could figure that out for themselves."

  "Maybe she's been overeating and put on weight."

  "Come on, Nick. I realize this has come as a shock, just as I know you and Al were real close at one time, so you're probably hoping I'm wrong. I'm sorry, but I'm not wrong. I'm not stupid either. Even I know the difference between weight gain and pregnancy. And I can assure you Missy is pregnant. Looked to me like the happy event could be any day now."

  Close!

  The word rang in Nick's ears like a high-pitched scream. He and Al were more than close. Al had been his lover, his soul mate, his whole fucking life. Even more important, with Missy's pregnancy that advanced, how could Al have come down to Vegas and not said one damn, fucking word about it? He'd even lied about Missy's reason for not wanting to come with him. At least now Nick knew why the traitorous sonofabitch wouldn't move down here to Vegas. He'd wanted Nick to go back home so he could douse him with another load of fairy dust and tell him how great everything would be again. All Nick would have to do was be patient and wait a while.

  Well, for Al's information, Nick was through with being strung along, lied to or given any of the other crap Al felt entitled to hand out.

  Feeling the coffee he'd drunk earlier start to rise in his throat as a flood of bile, Nick pushed away from the table. He was shaking and sweating, but somehow he managed to reach the door. After that, he just began to run as far and fast as his feet would carry him. He was vaguely conscious of the slap-slap sound of his shoes hitting the floor and voices calling his name, urging him to stop. He couldn't stop, didn't want to stop. He had to keep on running and running. He needed to outrun the voices in his head and the excruciating pain in his heart. He loved Al, and Al loved him, and if he could just hold onto those two essentials, he could get past this. He had to get past it.

  He continued blindly onward, pushing through doors, running down stairs, along corridors and walkways, around corners, until finally, he crashed into a wall and slid to the floor in a shaky, shivery heap, howling like a banshee. His heart pounded, tears streamed down his face, and all he wanted to do was die. How could Al betray him like this? There had to be a mistake. Somehow, Enzio had misinterpreted the situation and got it all wrong. Al and Missy didn't have a real marriage, so there was no way in hell she could have gotten pregnant. Missy didn't even like men in that way.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  Nick pounded his fists against the floor. He couldn't breathe; he couldn't think. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream his pain out loud for the whole world to hear, and...and... Gasping for breath and feeling as if he was about to choke, he forced himself to sit up and fill his lungs with air. He released the breath slowly, counted to five and then repeated the process a few times until his breathing was under control and he was able to stand.

  He tried to convince himself there was a good chance what Enzio had told him was nothing more than a simple misunderstanding. Of course, Enzio hadn't realized that or he wouldn't have passed it on. Nevertheless, it was the only possible explanation. Al was ambitious, selfish, too, but even he wouldn't pull something as crazy as that. Why would he? What would be the point? Al wanted a partnership in Hilldale, and then a divorce so he and Nick could pick up where they left off. There was absolutely no place Nick could think of where playing happy family figured into that plan.

  What if what Enzio had said was true?

  Nick didn't want to consider that possibility. Instead, he looked around the immediate area and realized he was in one of the basement storage rooms. Getting to his feet and using the wall for support, he began to retrace his footsteps slowly. Now that he'd started to get his head around the situation, he felt embarrassed about the way he'd reacted to Enzio's news, and it didn't help that his outburst wouldn't have gone unnoticed by his fellow employees. He felt like a complete fool. Nevertheless, determined to save face, he ignored the curious looks that came his way and responded to the odd, "Everything okay, Nick?" with a shrug and a smile as he passed through the kitchen.

  By the time he was back in the space that would shortly be Franco's restaurant, he had his emotions more or less under control. He was even beginning to wonder why he hadn't stopped to think logically for a moment, instead of simply reacting.

  Nick was normally the most laid back guy in the whole world, but he wasn't made of stone. Enzio's news had caught him by surprise, and the shock value alone had been more than enough to set anyone off. Maybe, if he'd been able to stop and think rather than react like a jilted teenager, he'd have realized right away that something was wrong somewhere. Regardless of what Enzio thought, there couldn't possibly be any truth to Missy being pregnant. In fact, as soon as he had a few minutes to spare, he'd break his resolution not to call Al and get confirmation of that firsthand.

  * * * *

  In his position as Nick's boss, it had been Trip's responsibility to find out the reason behind Nick's sudden, seemingly inexplicable outburst the moment he'd heard about it. The last thing he needed was for Nick to lose focus with Franco's opening just a short time away. While it had come as no surprise for him to learn the problem had something to do with Nick's so-called friend, Al, Trip had no intention of ruining a perfectly good friendship by sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. Al Martinsen was a world-class asshole and selfish bastard in Trip's estimation, but being Nick's friend as well as his boss meant he had to walk a very fine line between the two. He knew that getting involved in anyone's personal problems, be they friend or employee, was never a good idea. Especially in this case where he had more than a passing interest in the outcome.

  It was also up to Trip to ensure Nick was back on the job and able to function proper
ly. And sharing the good news he'd just received gave him the perfect opportunity to do it all in person.

  To Trip's relief, Nick was where Trip had left him earlier, in the makeshift office at Franco's. However, instead of just sitting there, staring into space the way Trip had half-expected, Nick had his laptop up and running and, from what Trip could see, he appeared to be revising the menu for the opening gala.

  "Yo, bro! What's happening?"

  Nick looked up with a smile. On the surface, he had himself under control, but his smile wasn't quite as wide or as bright as what Trip was used to. Plus, from the redness in his eyes, it looked as if he'd been crying. At least, one thing remained the same as always: no matter what, for Nick, the job always came first.

  "Just putting the finishing touches to the party menu," Nick said. "Once it's done and out of the way, maybe it'll discourage Silvia from coming up with any more of her brilliant ideas."

  Trip sat down on the only other chair. "You think?"

  "No." Nick's smile widened, making him look more like his normal self. "And you know what? I don't care if she does come up with a few more suggestions. She's having such a blast arranging this party to celebrate her late husband's life, I wouldn't deprive her of a single second of the fun she seems to be having. I think it's totally awesome."

  "I guess she really loved the guy," Trip observed. "I hear they were together for over fifty years."

  "I'm quite sure she loved him. In fact, I know she did. Probably still does," Nick said, a raw, wistful note to his voice that clearly showed his recovery from the news about Al's impending fatherhood was only surface. "I just hope he loved her as much in return."

  The breath caught in Trip's throat. It felt like a giant hand was squeezing his heart. He hated seeing Nick in such pain. He wanted to reach out and hug him, share his agony, hold him tight and tell him how much he loved him. Tell him to stop wasting his time, fretting over lost causes like Al Martinsen who thought only of himself, never anyone else. Convince Nick it didn't matter whether the story he'd heard was true or false. Tell him it was time to accept Al for who he was, then push the whole sorry mess out of his mind and start living again.