Challenged by You: A Fusion Universe Novel

by Tracey Jerald

  “I look forward to hearing from my executive chef, then.” Without another word, Chef Palazzo disconnects the call.

  “Jesus,” Karlson mutters. “Is she always like that?”

  “Like what?” I ask, sitting back crossing one leg over the other.

  “Intimidating? Kind of makes your balls draw up inside in fear.”

  Having enjoyed the company of all the owners when I visited the flagship Seduction restaurant, I can say with all honesty, “Her husband certainly doesn’t think so.”

  Karlson blinks. “She’s married?”

  Nodding, I name the very famous celebrity chef Mia Palazzo’s been married to for the last six years. “Jesus, no wonder why you were so all fired up to have me make that call,” he jokes.

  Looking him dead in the eye, I say flatly, “No, I had you make that call because I respect the food I ate—and the people who prepared it—too much.” Shoving to my feet, I make my way to the door.

  “Jonas! I swear, it was an honest mistake. You know Chelsea didn’t mean any harm when she was proofing for you. She was up all night before with the baby, otherwise…”

  I feel a modicum of softening because my younger cousin is suffering alone with the agony of her third child teething while her husband is overseas on business. It was an honest mistake, however, this mistake ultimately lands on Karlson as the editor-in-chief, and me as the columnist, to fix.

  “I know. Let’s make it right and get the correction made within a half an hour, Uncle Karlson.” As frustrated as he makes me, I owe the man in front of me everything. Karlson—and before she passed away, his wife, Lucy—raised Julian and me from the time we were six. Like every other member of our family, there’s been nothing else I’ve ever wanted to do. Four years at NYU with a dual degree in journalism and hospitality management, while randomly failing cooking classes where I could at least appreciate what I needed flavor-wise to start the small column at City Lights all those years ago. I know Karlson gave me the chance, much like he gave one to Julian and Chelsea, because we’re family—his family. The only family he has left. And knowing that I still struggle every single morning. Because I’m not entirely certain I deserve it.

  I never expected my career to take off the way it did after I submitted my first review fourteen years ago. I expected Karlson to reassign me to be some beat journalist and to be appreciative of it. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect chefs like Mia Palazzo or one of hundreds of the chefs who welcome me into their restaurants would do so willingly. But like some of the food I’ve had to choke down over the years, the struggle of what I owe Karlson and the guilt I feel leaves me off-balance. It’s in these moments it’s easier to hide my emotions and retreat. Doing so, I leave him sputtering behind me.

  I’m oblivious as I make my way over to my brother’s barely used office to wait for the website to be updated. I’m just damn grateful we only print once a week due to subscription decline. Otherwise, this would have been an even worse nightmare to deal with.

  Within the hour, I’m escorted to the back kitchens of Seduction New York by a very wary hostess. “Are you certain you want to see Chef Spencer? Today?” Her voice is tremulous at best as she pushes the swinging door inward.

  I open my mouth to reassure her when I hear the thunderous yelling followed by an eerie silence. My eyes narrow as I glimpse Chef Spencer storm off to a glass-walled office followed by a slim blonde who’s visibly trembling. I wonder if Mia knows about this, I think grimly to myself. Turning to relieve the hostess, I quickly realize I’m too late as she’s already darting back toward the front of the restaurant.

  Silently, I prowl toward the executive chef’s office in time for him to aim a crumpled printout at the woman, which fortunately misses and instead strikes the glass behind her. His voice is condescending when he quotes what I wrote, “‘Was it supposed to have a touch of sweetness? It’s hard to say as half of it had been simmered in matcha sauce to an unrecognizable mush.’”

  The blonde defends herself. “We don’t use matcha here at Seduction, sir. It’s not on the approved—”

  “I know what’s fucking approved to be served!” he bellows. Quickly I put two and two together. This is the executive pastry chef being berated about the mess I was served at Super Sticky. But the woman doesn’t back down. In fact, she gets in Chef Spencer’s face before she flies out the door. Charging forward blindly, she bounces off me. I’m close enough to see the tears in her eyes as she storms past.

  I can’t wait to slap this corrected review into Spencer’s hand knowing Chef Palazzo is going to tear her executive chef into pieces. And since I was advised to have him immediately call his boss, I’ll enjoy watching him listen as I tell her he just cost Seduction the difference between an almost perfect review and a solid one because he shoved their advantage out the door.

  I knock on the edge of the jamb.

  Spencer whirls around. “Who the hell let you back here?” he bites out.

  “I was requested to deliver something to you personally at the request of Chef Palazzo,” I say mildly.

  I take enjoyment over the way his face pales as I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a plain white envelope. Nodding, I encourage him gently, “Go ahead.”

  Fingers trembling, he tears open the back. Quickly scanning the single sheet, Spencer’s jaw hangs open. “What…this can’t be right?” Without another word, he whirls to his desktop and pulls up the website. “No,” he moans. His eyes dart to the door. “I’ve got to go get Paxton.” He makes a dash for the door.

  “Actually.” I step in front of the exit to block it. His eyes are wild as he tries to see past me into the kitchen. “I promised your boss you would call her immediately once I delivered that into your hands. After what I just overheard, I look forward to that more than ever.”

  His face pales before he takes a threatening step forward. “Who the hell are you?”

  I smooth my jacket down and adjust my cuffs before I offer my name. “Jonas Rice.”

  It does my soul a great deal of pleasure to hear his indrawn breath. “Now, Chef, I suggest calling your boss. She’s waiting.”

  With trembling hands, Spencer presses Speaker on the handset on his desk. Pressing another button, the number begins to dial. Mia answers without preamble, “Is Rice there? Was the retraction printed?”

  “Of course,” I speak before Spencer can get a word in. “However, there’s a bit of a snag?”

  “What now?” she demands.

  I raise a brow. Spencer is shaking his head, pleading with me to not tell her. “Ultimately, Chef Spencer, you mean nothing to me. What matters is the food. And since my favorite course last night was dessert…”

  “Don’t,” Spencer openly begs.

  “Quiet,” Mia snaps. “What happened?”

  “Your executive pastry chef was fired in such a way I suspect you’re going to have quite a difficult time getting her back.” I drop the news like a bomb.

  “Excuse me?” Two words, but they have the power to put the fear of God into anyone within hearing distance.

  Spencer begins babbling, making excuses, but Mia shouts, “Get the hell out of my kitchen! I gave you a warning about this already. Your termination paperwork will be sent to you.” Spencer glares at me, before storming off, leaving me and Mia alone on speaker.

  “Was it really bad, Jonas?” Worry has slid into her voice, overtaking the anger.

  “Words don’t come close to what I just witnessed. You may want to talk with your other employees,” I say in disgust. “At the end of the day, Mia, if your executive chef was doing his job, he would have known it was a mistake.”

  “God, this is a damn mess.”

  “It would have come out sooner or later; you’re too smart not to know that.”

  She’s quiet for a moment. “I transferred someone out from Portland not too long ago I’m comfortable moving into the executive role, but Jonas, Chef Paxton was magic in the dessert position. I took a chance on her base
d on that skill. Even though she’s new, she earned her position. She’s the reason I even allowed a dessert of the day to be put on the menu. God, what a mess.” And for Mia Palazzo to allow that much latitude in her kitchen is unprecedented.

  “I know. It’s also why New York earned the highest ranking of all of your restaurants,” I tell her baldly.

  “Damnit, I’ve got to talk to Sterling. It’s going to be a hell of a day, and the sun isn’t even up here yet.” Mia sighs. “What’s next, Jonas? Do we let the review stand? It’s got a pall over it that I’m not happy with.”

  “Worry about getting your house in order, Mia. Then, let’s revisit it. Say, in a month’s time?” I suggest.

  “That’s it? That easy?” she wonders.

  “For now.”

  I hear a rush of breath on the other end of the line. “Now I know why Camden actually likes you,” Mia says, naming her husband.

  “He likes me because I raided my cousin’s diaper bag for the twins that time you both were filming in New York,” I retort.

  “Right. Whatever. I’ve got to call Sterling and wake her up. Don’t you just love when the day starts off as a disaster?”

  “Imagine how your dessert chef is feeling right about now,” I remind her.

  “Goodbye, Jonas.” Mia disconnects the call.

  There’s a knock on the jamb. “Umm, sir?” The hostess who escorted me back earlier is standing in the entrance. “I saw Chef Spencer storm out. I presume your meeting is over?”

  Rubbing a hand over the back of my neck, I glance out the window at the curious faces of the rest of Seduction New York’s kitchen staff. “You could say that. I’m ready to leave.”

  She nods.

  Before I shut the office door behind me, I ask, “Does Chef Sterling have keys to this office?”

  “Yes, of course. Only Chef Spencer and Chef Sterling do. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” I imagine the staff at Seduction will find out soon enough.

  Chapter 3

  Trina

  “I hate everything about today,” I complain to Elle as we’re drinking a box of wine that makes me think we’d have been better off buying a vat of grain alcohol and grape Jell-O for the same cost. “The wine sucks, and the cost for the amount of it gives me another reason to bitch,” I declare resolutely.

  Elle’s drinking out of the one decent wineglass I have because I long ago shattered the other one during an outburst of fury one wine night, releasing anger about the lawsuit I was facing to retain custody of my kids. Hefting the box up, I tip it back to get the dredges in my mouth.

  Elle says, “You’re making me nervous,” before handing over her almost full glass.

  “Why? Spencer fired me! I’m not going to be able to make rent for too long if I can’t find a job. God, Elle, what am I supposed to do?” Tears form in my eyes.

  “No. No drunk crying. You know you’ll find something soon. Besides, you’ll probably singe your skin with the acid content of what you just drank.”

  “Who cares?” I flop back onto the worn love seat in my tiny living area and then proceed to fall onto the floor—which, fortunately, is carpeted by rubber matting so the kids don’t hurt themselves. “I can still bake if I’m scarred.”

  “Your hoo-ha might if you want to get laid eventually,” she points out.

  I snort as I slam back the wine. “I’m the mother of twins who lives in a decent apartment building, but the cost of this city makes luxury ridiculous.”

  “That’s the truth,” Elle agrees.

  Continuing on, I tick off, “Yes, I could have shelled out an extra four hundred a month for a two-bedroom.”

  Elle laughs. “For the amount you sleep?”

  “Right? So, instead, I sleep in a converted dining room so we’re not crowding three humans and their things in a single room that I’ll spend less than six hours in. I get a little break for a few hours, but privacy? It works for most things, but not for that. I don’t think I have to become a virgin again; this is the kind of place that auto-implants a chastity belt.”

  Elle laughs even as she points out, “A biological impossibility.”

  I throw her the middle finger just as my cell phone rings. As I’m pressing Accept, I announce, “Now, there’s a new line of work I can go into. Hello?”

  “Not sure that’s legal,” Elle calls back just as a crisp voice demands, “I’m looking for Chef Trina Paxton, please.”

  I’m just buzzed enough to admit, “This is Trina, but I’m not certain I’m a chef anymore since I was canned today by Chef Butthead.”

  Elle groans just as the woman lets out a long-suffering sigh in my ear. “Yes, I’m well aware, Chef Paxton. This is Mia Palazzo, one of the co-owners of the Seduction Restaurant Group. Before you say anything”—I guess the choking sound I made in my head did escape my throat—“I want to deeply apologize for the actions of Chef Spencer. He was completely in error terminating you earlier.”

  “Along with about everything else he said.”

  “So I was led to understand.”

  “How? There was no one else in the room,” I reply a bit truculently.

  Chef Palazzo doesn’t reply. “I am not often in the position of making calls like this, Chef, but you should know your desserts earned high praise from Jonas Rice in his review.”

  “Not according to Spencer,” I counter.

  “There was an error at the paper.” Her voice softens compassionately. “On Seduction’s behalf, I’ve already had words with the editor, who has corrected the review. Jonas Rice will be coming back to perform a new critique in a little over a month. As our executive dessert chef, I need you as part of the team ready to showcase who we are as a team.”

  Heart pounding, I whisper, “I’m flattered, Chef.”

  Elle’s waving her arms at me to get my attention. Finally, she hisses, “Tell me who it is,” but I ignore her as I try to focus through the haze.

  “And I want you to come up with a signature dessert for Seduction to knock Jonas Rice on his ass.”

  “Is the room spinning because of the amount of alcohol I consumed to drown my agony or because of what Chef Palazzo just said?”

  Elle screeches, “You’re not on mute, you blotto mess! And that’s… Oh, merciful Jesus.”

  Mia Palazzo snorts in my ear, and I feel a churning in my stomach that isn’t pleasant when there’s no food to absorb the alcohol. “Oh, God, I’m so embarrassed,” I moan.

  “Trust me, Chef, if any of the partners shared half of the stories about our corporate meetings, it would ruin our image,” she reassures me.

  “Still, I apologize.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. We do. We trusted someone who…” She audibly swallows before clearing her throat. “If you say yes, you will find a very different environment upon your return. Chef Sterling has been appointed the new executive in charge, effective immediately. Also, she will be reevaluating the entire staff’s wages. Most of you will be happily surprised with your next check.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “You didn’t ask what the difference was,” she scolds me gently.

  “I know, but two things made the difference.”

  “What’s that?”

  I pluck the picture of my babies off the table. “I have children to feed, and you’re being more than fair. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll be making the decision to leave for the right reasons.”

  There’s a moment of quiet I wish wasn’t there because it gives my head too much time to spin. “Then I’ll expect to hear you’re back at work Saturday, Chef Paxton. I do believe that’s your next scheduled day.” There’s a click in my ear.

  Pressing End, I hold the phone to my ear before Elle demands, “Well?”

  “Ding dong, Chef Dick is gone!” I kick my legs up in the air as I fall to my back laughing.

  “Wait? What?” But I can’t reply as I’m feeling a burden lift off my chest. “First, did I hear you right? That was Chef…?�
�� Elle demands, leaning down to get in my face.

  “Palazzo,” I manage to gasp out.

  “Shut your trap. Mia Palazzo, co-owner of Seduction, television celebrity chef, past guest judge on umpteen cooking shows with her hot as fuck celebrity chef husband, just called you?” Elle shrieks.

  Huh, I wonder why Chef Spencer didn’t mention that during orientation. Probably because he was too obsessed with mentioning all of his own accolades and putting me through the paces to ensure I actually could bake, And it’s not like I have a lot of time to look things up at work. The few moments I get here and there, I’m generally trying to place a quick online order for Chris and Annie since I don’t have TV and can’t afford the internet on my budget, but the normal bitterness that would normally swamp over me doesn’t make an appearance. I quickly recount our conversation, adding, “Why didn’t you ever mention all this other stuff about her before?”

  Elle’s surprised. “I guess I thought everyone knew. I mean, it’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal,” I repeat slowly, enunciating every word though I’m not sure as if that’s for Elle or to make certain I’m saying the right ones.

  “Well, it’s not like her face is splattered on the joint in Times Square like Guy Fieri’s was and shit.” Suddenly, Elle’s face changes from one of disbelief to one of excitement. “If there weren’t two kids I love asleep in the next room, do you know what I’d be doing?”

  A small smile plays about my lips when I see her reach for her latest-model cell. “What’s that?”

  Her fingers work quickly before she turns down the volume before pressing Play on Meredith Brooks’s most famous song. “Serenading you, T. You may have taken some hard knocks, but you know what?” She holds out a hand to pull me to my feet.

  I wobble as I manage to stand. “No, what?” The adrenaline from my call is wearing off.

  “This opportunity is about to change everything for you. I have a feeling right here—” She holds our still-clasped hands to her heart. “—that the next month is putting you on the path to change your life.”