Sizzle

by Whitley Green

  I could invite her in. But that will take longer, and I need Joelle. I need Elliot. But Diana’s not finished yet.

  “I had no business judging you. Of all people, I should have supported you, and I hated that you felt you couldn’t tell me.” She meets my eyes again. “I hate it even more that you were right not to trust me. I’m so sorry.”

  She wraps her arms around me and I hug her back, closing my eyes at the peace I feel after what she just said. I didn’t think I needed it, but it puts that last of my self-doubts to rest. Diana tips her pretty face back to peer up at me—

  And an obnoxiously loud horn blares from the side of the road where an ugly, battered food truck jerks to a stop.

  It’s Elliot.

  27

  Joelle

  “That neighborhood is absolute trash. You can’t live there!” Dad tugs the printout across the table to read the listing.

  “The price is right,” I say, taking his coffee cup to the counter for a refill. “It’s close to the college. And the neighborhood’s not that bad.”

  “Two of the windows are boarded up.”

  I don’t have a good comeback for that one. “Maybe they’re weatherproofing?”

  Dad rolls his eyes and balls up the paper, pitching it into the trash atop all the other discarded candidates.

  “You know, you could always just stay here,” says Dad. His tone is casual, but his shoulders are practically covering his ears. I set his coffee mug down on the table in front of him and lean over to kiss his cheek.

  “I know, Dad,” I say, patting his shoulder before taking my seat again. “I appreciate that, I really do. I won’t rush into anything, I promise, but it’s time I at least started looking for my own place.”

  Dad grunts, but doesn’t disagree.

  “You got time,” he says. “Better you focus on getting into that fancy school than worrying about making rent.”

  “Maybe,” I say. But the time for that dream has passed. I can’t exactly say I’ve made peace with it. Culinary school has been my goal since I was old enough to turn on the oven. But right now, there’s some life stuff in the way. And that’s okay, too. Just because I’m not already there doesn’t mean I won’t get there.

  It’s one more debt I owe to two men I don’t think I’ll ever see again. I’d never in a million years be so sure of myself and my abilities if it hadn’t been for them.

  I chug my ice water fast enough to make my head hurt. Anything to keep the tears at bay.

  I’d made it a whopping ten minutes without getting misty-eyed this time. Progress.

  The doorbell rings and Dad’s out of his chair before I even look up.

  “That’ll be Connie,” he says on his way out of the kitchen. “I’ll get the door.”

  Dad took it pretty well, all things considered, when I told him I’d had not one boyfriend, but two. And that those two guys were also seeing each other. Dad had tried to shrug it off as “college-age experimentation,” a phrase that left us both unable to make eye contact for several minutes. But he’d been extra kind to me ever since, ordering dinner for us more than once so I didn’t have to do all the cooking and making sure I got dessert every time.

  I guess if you have to be heartbroken twice over, there are worse ways to go through it.

  The phone rings, saving me from a complete breakdown right there in the kitchen. The number on the screen is one I don’t recognize, though it’s clearly local.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, hello,” says a perky female voice. “I’m calling for Joelle Munroe.”

  “Speaking.”

  “Ms. Munroe! It’s wonderful to speak with you at last. My name is Kenna Burch. I’m a producer over at Sizzle, the cooking network. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

  I’m gaping like a damn fish out of water, so it takes me a beat too long to answer. Sizzle is the newest—and from what I’ve heard is now the biggest—cooking channel on television, largely due to their inclusive approach with online content.

  “I’m familiar with the network. What can I do for you, Ms. Burch?”

  “Oh, call me Kenna, please. I’m calling because your blog has been recommended to us by quite a few of our viewers. You’ve got a lot of fans out there, Ms. Munroe.”

  “Um, thanks.”

  “A few of the producers here would like to set up a meeting with you, at your convenience of course.”

  “Sure,” I say slowly, not quite catching on. “Um, what’s the meeting for?” Am I in trouble or something? I know the thought is ludicrous but I’m shaking so hard right now it feels just like the one and only time I got called to the principal’s office in junior high.

  “Oh! My bad, I probably should have led with that,” says Kenna, laughing. It’s a tinkling, attractive sound that makes me want to laugh with her. “We recently received your application for the production assistant position.”

  “Wow,” I say. I’d submitted that application months ago. Long before I ever met—

  Long before I ever started working at Duckbill. I’d assumed they hired somebody else and forgot the whole thing.

  “When do you need me for an interview?”

  “My bad—again,” says Kenna. “I’m just so excited to talk with you. We’re not looking to interview you for the job. That’s just how we got your contact information, Joelle. Can I call you Joelle?”

  I murmur something approximating a yes.

  “Joelle, we’re just smitten with your blog. Your videos are raw but incredibly promising, and we’ve seen all the glowing press you’ve gotten for that restaurant revamp. Put simply, you’re a rising star. We’d like to talk with you about putting together a pilot.”

  “A pilot. Like a TV show pilot? An actual show?”

  She laughs again and this time, I don’t curb the smile.

  “An actual show,” she says. “When would be a good time to meet?”

  The details are a blur but I manage to scribble down a day and time and an address before hanging up.

  Dad and Connie are laughing at something in the living room. The second pot of the day is brewing, the scent of fresh coffee wafting through the kitchen. The box of pastries on the counter is still giving off that incredible fresh-from-the-bakery aroma.

  Everything here is the same as it was three minutes ago, but it feels like the entire world around me shifted.

  “Who was that, girlie?” Connie says, coming into the kitchen. “You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

  “I might have been,” I say, offering her a mug. She pours her coffee and turns back to me. When I don’t say anything, she asks, “Well?”

  “That was Sizzle. The cable network with all the cooking and food shows. They want to talk to me about filming a pilot.”

  Connie sets the mug down so fast coffee splashes all over the counter.

  “Hank! Get in here!”

  “What? What’s wrong?” Dad comes loping in as fast as he can. “What happened?”

  “Your girl here’s going to be a star, that’s what!” Connie’s whooping drowns out Dad’s response, but she doesn’t stop until she’s scooped me up into a hug. “I knew you were going places, girlie.”

  I hug her back, tears prickling my eyes. This time, I’m not ashamed to let them fall.

  “Thanks, Connie.”

  “Sit down, will you?” says Dad, waving us both over to the table. “My leg can’t take all the dancing around.” He sets the bakery box down in front Connie, handing her a plate.

  I reiterate the conversation for them, and then again a second time at Connie’s insistence. Before long, they’re bickering about the merits of fame and whether or not Dad should go ahead and hire a bodyguard to protect me so I tune out and let them have their fun.

  Wasn’t I just thinking that culinary school could wait? Didn’t I just come to the conclusion that it didn’t matter how long it took to get there, I’d get there just the same?

  It’s like the universe is trying to tell me somethi
ng. That maybe I really can have it all—if I have the nerve to go after what I want.

  I’d be a damn fool not to listen.

  So maybe it’s a little unusual to fall in love with two men at once. It’s also pretty damn unusual to get a phone call from my most favorite channel on TV, and that just happened.

  My phone chimes again and I pick it up automatically, expecting to see the email confirmation Kenna told me she’d send.

  It’s not that. It’s a text from Elliot.

  I gulp hard and swipe the message open.

  Can you come to the house? We need to talk.

  A second message pops up before I can respond.

  Please? I know I owe you an apology but I’d rather do it in person.

  I was all set to tell him I’d be right there, but that second message rubs me the wrong way. He wants to apologize? Good. He was a jerk. But he can damn well come to me if he wants to say sorry. Why should I deliver?

  Who am I even kidding right now? I’ve never missed anyone so much in my whole life as I’ve missed Elliot and Alex the last couple of days. Even if all he wants to tell me is “Sorry, have a nice life,” I can’t miss this chance to see them again.

  If it weren’t for them, I’d never have had the courage to say yes when Sizzle called a little while ago. They showed me I’m worth it, and not only because they thought so. Because I have value. I have more to offer this world. Thanks to Alex and Elliot, I know it.

  My cheeks hurt and I realize it’s from smiling so damn hard. Dad’s still going on about something but Connie catches my expression and narrows her eyes. I hold up a hand to check yet another text before she can ask.

  Hurry, if you can. His ex is here.

  That wipes the smile clear off my face.

  “Dad, can I borrow the car?”

  “Take mine,” says Connie. “I don’t have to work tonight. Use it as long as you want.” She winks at me. I slow long enough to circle the table and hug her hard.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”

  “You’re welcome, girlie,” she whispers back. “Go get your boys back already.”

  28

  Elliot

  The guy who just sold me this truck swore up and down that it just takes a while to get the heater going but I’m pretty sure he lied.

  Fucking horseshit. But I’m too pumped to be really pissed right now.

  Because Elliot James is now the proud owner and operator of a food truck. Duckbill is going on the road.

  If the math Jimmy did was good for anything, the amount of cash I’ll get from selling off the excess kitchen equipment will more than cover the cost of the vehicle, plus enough for a small starter inventory.

  Paying my own bills is another story, but I’m not thinking about that now. Right now, I’ve got a food truck business to start.

  Heading back to Alex’s—our house, damn it—I can’t wait to tell him. I still have to grovel, I know that. I was an absolute asshole the other day and he deserves better. But we’ve been friends for so long, surely he knows what I really meant? That I didn’t mean I couldn’t be with him.

  I mean, I think I could. The whole gay thing is new, and yeah, I’m not all the way comfortable with it yet, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want him.

  The heater must have finally kicked on. It’s definitely getting warm in here now.

  I want him. The things I think about doing to him… I can’t get it out of my head. Why I couldn’t just tell him that, I’m not sure, but I owe Alex at least that much. It’s not just him and me, though. I need Joelle, and I think he does too. She makes us better, makes us more.

  God knows, I’d never have made it through the last few weeks without her, without either of them.

  I round the corner to our street, not paying much attention to the car parked in front of the house as I’m too busy planning how to grovel. Hey, I can admit when I’ve been a jerk. And making it up to them is going to be so much fun.

  Except… What the actual fuck?

  Alex is on the front porch. With a woman who is definitely not Joelle.

  Shit. It’s the Ice Bitch. What the fuck is she doing here?

  I slow up next to the curb. I can’t see her face, only Alex’s. When his expression goes all soft and he wraps his arms around her I lose my shit, laying on the horn as I throw the truck into park. My other hand is occupied tapping out a fast text to Joelle. God, I hope she can get here fast.

  What the fuck? Diana’s got some damn nerve turning up again now. Alex said they hadn’t been talking. Diana can’t possibly want him back, right? Except obviously she can, because he’s Alex and he’s the best man I know and he deserves more than all of us combined can offer. Of course she wants him back.

  It never even crossed my mind that he might want her back, too. Not after these last few weeks, what we’ve done together. Not after what he’s become to me.

  Of course, Alex doesn’t know what he’s become to me, does he? Not unless he’s suddenly also become a mind reader.

  I never told him. The twisting feeling in my gut turns to stone as I shut off the ignition and slam the car door shut behind me.

  I never told Alex I love him and now the one person who might be able to take him away from me—from us—is here and he’s hugging her and God I’m too late.

  The snow is coming down thick now, with big fluffy flakes, despite the bullshitting weatherman’s bullshit prediction that today was supposed to be warmer. I trample through the drifts next to the sidewalk, tearing across the yard. It ruins the fresh cover on the ground, but I’m too wound up to care. Halfway there, Alex catches sight of me and lifts his head, letting go of the Ice Bitch. Whatever he sees in my face obviously worries him.

  “I love you!”

  I’m shouting, even though they’re only about ten feet away now. Diana turns, her eyebrows practically disappearing into her hair.

  “Goddamn it, Alex, you couldn’t wait ten more minutes? I love you, you son of a bitch! I don’t care what she says, you can’t go back to her. You can’t.”

  Alex’s eyes are wide enough to fall out of his head as I climb the porch steps. The silence is deafening now, and I think maybe I didn’t have to shout quite so loud. I also maybe shouldn’t have started off by calling him names, but seriously.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Diana.

  She arches a brow at me.

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  “I live here now. You don’t. Beat it.”

  “You can’t just kick me out!”

  “Want to bet?”

  “Elliot,” says Alex. I swear to God, if he laughs, I’m going to hit his pretty face so hard he’ll feel it for weeks.

  “You can’t take her back,” I tell him, turning my back on Diana completely. “You can’t. Not after the way she treated you.”

  “That’s actually why I’m—” Diana says over my shoulder.

  “I’m not talking to you.”

  “Elliot, you’re being rude,” says Alex. He’s obviously fighting a smile and I’m going to have to hit him for real, I think, except all I want to do is kiss him. But I have to make him understand first.

  “You can’t go back to her. Joelle needs you. I need you. You can’t just leave us now.”

  This wipes the smile off his face.

  “You’re the one who left.”

  “I know,” I say, reaching for his hand. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean I can’t be with you without her. I should have stayed, talked to you so you understood.”

  Diana clears her throat. I glance over my shoulder.

  “I suppose this means I should offer my congratulations?” she says in a quiet voice.

  “That’s what I was about to tell you,” Alex says to her, matching her tone.

  All of us turn to stare at the beat-up sedan pulling into the driveway, rods knocking hard enough to make me wince. I don’t know whose car that is, but it needs a priest.

  Then Joelle steps
out, and the world comes into sharper focus.

  “Got your text,” she says to me, taking in the lot of us freezing on the porch. “This must be the famous Diana.”

  “And you’re Joelle,” says Diana, nodding. “I’ve heard good things.”

  “I should hope so, considering you’re standing between me and the men I love,” says Joelle evenly. “Literally.”

  Diana clears her throat. “I guess this means I’m not coming in,” she says to Alex.

  “Hell no.” I take the last two steps toward Alex and lay one on him. His lips part on a gasp and I pour every last exasperated second of the past few weeks into that kiss. I’ve shocked him enough it takes a few extra seconds before he’s kissing me back, and then his arm is banded tight around my waist, his other hand sliding through my hair and I’m hard as a rock despite our audience.

  A drawn-out whistle has me pulling back before I can get to Alex’s zipper to show him how sorry I am. I turn my head to see Joelle grinning at us like it’s Christmas morning.

  “That will never, ever get old,” she says, gesturing between Alex and me.

  “Tell me about it,” says Alex, stepping toward her. He doesn’t reach for her, though it’s clear he wants to. “Are you all right?”

  A car door slams as an engine fires up, startling all three of us. Diana pulls her car away from the curb, actually peeling out in her haste to vacate the premises. I can’t suppress a smile.

  Ding, dong, the bitch is dead.

  It’s not particularly nice of me to think that way about her. God knows, if anybody can sympathize about not wanting to let Alex go, it’s me. But she can’t have him anymore. He’s mine.

  Or better yet, judging by the look on Joelle’s face, he’s ours.

  Alex has turned back to Joelle, waiting for her to answer him.

  “I’ve been better,” she says quietly. She meets his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer when you called. I was sure there was no way we could make this work. And embarrassed. And confused.”

  “Embarrassed by what?” They don’t need me for this part of the conversation but I can’t help but ask. “Not by what we did together.”