Slapping my card against the reader, I slide through the turnstile and wave to the night guard, letting out a sigh just as the train pulls up. Jonas steps up next to me silently, almost like a sentry guarding me.
The train is mostly empty at this time of night, and I scurry toward two seats facing one another so I can be looking at him when he provides his explanation. Somehow, I suspect I’m going to need every advantage with this man.
Jonas drops into the seat across from me. “After we talked, your words kept repeating on me.”
“Rather like sauce that was too acidic?” When a slow smile breaks out across his face, I almost wish it hadn’t. I really didn’t need to see what humor does to his all-too-serious good looks. “I’m sorry, I interrupted.”
Just then, the train pulls out of Grand Central. Our bodies lurch to one side before righting. “Please continue.” I pitch my voice a little louder against the rhythmic churning of the train on the tracks.
“I went back and reviewed some of my more…harsh critiques. And then I went to my editor with a proposition. I’d like to do a spotlight interview of you, Chef Paxton. This includes some of the struggles you mentioned about balancing your professional and personal life. For the next thirty days, I want to do a food investigation of the way you live in New York—from the neighborhoods you frequent, to your eating habits, to the types of groceries. I want to focus on the restaurants in the area you live in in my column. Perhaps you might be able to suggest one or two?”
My jaw falls open when Jonas goes on to admit, “I realized there’s a whole New York I had no idea about until you ever so eloquently reminded me of it the other day. There’s the New York I’ve been writing for and the New York most people live in.”
“That’s very…”
“Yes?” The night hides his features as we pass through a dark section of the subway, but I hear the tension in his voice.
“Kind.” Because it is. “You could have walked away from my snooty remarks and given no further thought about it, but because you did, a lot of people are going to benefit from it.”
“I hope so.”
There’s silence between us for a few moments while I absorb his words. Then I ask, “Why are you here tonight? I’m certain you have a home.”
Maybe it’s fate, but as we pull into the next stop, Jonas’s face is lit when he gives me an answer that both thrills and terrifies me. “You,” he answers, just before passengers shift on and off the train, interrupting our conversation for the moment.
Chapter 5
Jonas
“Me?” Trina repeats incredulously. “What do I have to do with this?”
How do I explain the way her words tormented me as they replayed in my head after she sauntered back into the kitchen, that they caused me to spend the night in self-reflection, not liking the conclusions I drew about myself?
Before I presented my idea to my uncle, I ran it by Julian. Something settled deep inside of me when he recalled, “Remember how Mom used to drop us off with Lucy and Karlson so she could work the late shift? Or she’d take us to the street fairs that were free on her days off?” The one-two punch of memories too long buried laid over top of what I witnessed behind the scenes at Seduction solidified what I needed to do—find that core of humanity I lost somewhere between Mom’s death and my last article.
Even as memories of Mom bundling me and Julian in jackets over our jammies with our favorite stuffed animals, then walking us down a few floors to my uncle’s apartment before she would scurry to her shift at the hospital play like a movie reel inside my head, I answer Trina’s question. “You made me remember things I forgot—a very different world I once loved.” Because part of me died the day I was told my mother was gone, quite possibly the best part.
Instead of probing me about what I mean, she focuses on the practicality of the situation. “What does this little experiment of yours entail?”
The rocking of the train back and forth, the shadows we’re cast in, the light that bounces off her long blonde hair cast an intimacy around us I’m certain she wouldn’t normally permit. “I’ve been granted a stipend for the duration.” I quickly name the amount I researched for executive chefs in New York City to make certain the figures were accurate.
Trina snickers. “Generous, aren’t they?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“That’s about two times what my take-home pay is, Mr. Rice. I think whomever did your research forgot the word ‘pastry’ when looking up salary ranges. You live here, so I don’t need to go into the amount we lose for federal, state, and local tax. But if you’re really looking to live like the ‘average’ New Yorker, you need to lower your thirty-day salary just a wee bit.” Her voice is filled with amusement.
I can’t prevent the choking noise that comes out of my mouth. “It’s Jonas. How do you afford a two-bedroom apartment in your building, then?”
“I don’t. I make do with one. I converted the dining room into a second sleeping area for myself.”
I don’t say anything for a few moments as a combination of fury and admiration swirl for their rightful place as the primary emotion at the forefront of my mind. “I didn’t realize money was that tight,” I say finally.
“Don’t get me wrong. My employers pay me a terrific salary. If it was just me…” Her voice trails off. “Anyway, I have a plan.” Her voice tells me the subject is closed.
“I’m certain you do.” Stepping away from the topic, I do some mental math. “What’s the cost of a one-bedroom available in your building.”
“The one right next door to me is renting for $1750 a month for 562 square feet. That includes gas, water, heat, and trash removal. They’re not furnished, and electric and cable are on your own.” Trina’s voice is matter-of-fact.
But I get the gist of what she’s saying. Money is tight. “I’ll talk with the office in the morning to make the adjustment in my stipend.” But I can’t resist adding, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m single,” just to get her reaction.
I’m more amused than irritated when she growls slightly. I suspect after spending time with her to learn more about the Bronx and during her interview, I’m going to find out exactly what I know right now.
Trina Paxton is a firecracker.
Deciding to tell her a little more about the plans, I go on. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but it’s rare I spotlight a chef.”
“To be honest, Mr. Rice, I don’t know that much about you.”
Ouch. “Jonas,” I correct her again. I can make out her shrug in the shadows. Continuing, I inform her, “My idea was I’d interview you a few times at Seduction, get some recommendations about the best places to eat, check them out, write up some reviews about the best things on the menu as I discovered this new area of New York. Since I’d be on a budget, this would really shine a spotlight on businesses who are accessible to people in the area.”
Trina’s quiet as the train pulls into the next stop. More people come on and off before she reluctantly says, “Jonas, so at the end of the month you expect what?”
“A great interview with an excellent pastry chef,” I declare immediately.
“What else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you really want to know what it’s like to live in New York the way the average person does and taste some amazing food?”
“Yes,” I come back with immediately.
“Next stop, Parkchester,” squawks over the speakers.
Trina stands, as do I. We make our way to the doors. I’ve never been here, so I stand beside her to determine which way she’s going to exit. As soon as we’re off, she begins to set a new record for speed walking. Part of me wonders if that’s because she’s worried for her safety or if she’s just anxious to be home. Did Mom worry about this when she came home from her shift at the hospital? I wonder as I keep pace.
Trina doesn’t say anything until we’re standing in the doorway of an apartment building I c
an only assume is hers inside the Parkchester community. Then she slaps a hand of my chest to prevent me entering behind her. “I have to get my children in the next few moments or there’s going to be hell to pay. I don’t have time to think about this now. But if you’re serious, if you really want to know what life is like for someone like me?”
“I am. I do.”
She bites her lip. “Then be back here tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. Apartment 3B. Bring your appetite.” Without another word, she turns and races for the elevator, calling, “Can you hold it, Mario? I’m headed to Mom’s for the kids.”
The security door swings closed behind her, preventing me from hearing his answer, but I see her leap to jump through the doors. Deciding I need a few minutes before I head off in search of the nearest cross street to call an Uber, I set down my laptop and sit on the wall next to the handicap ramp.
The quiet neighborhood is a surprise—a pleasant one. Finding out Trina Paxton makes less than some of my uncle’s lowest-level editorial staff wasn’t. “And she’s a mother of two?” I grunt out before slipping my phone from my jacket pocket. Quickly punching a few buttons, I hold it up to my ear.
“How’s was your night?” Julian’s perpetually cheerful voice comes through the line.
“I’ve never missed Mom more than I do right at this very moment,” I tell him truthfully.
There’s a long silence before he asks, “Why?”
Tilting my head back, I feel the pressure between my shoulders release a bit. “Because the chef—Trina Paxton—reminds me of her in so many ways.”
“Yeah? Like how?”
I think about it for a moment. “Determined. Focused. Intent on giving her kids a better life.”
Julian’s quiet. “That does sound a lot like Mom.”
“She’s scrappy,” I tack on, then, “A fighter,” remembering the scene between her and Chef Spencer.
“Is she attractive?”
“I’m sitting here telling you she reminds me of Mom and you’re asking me if I think she’s attractive?” Irritation laces my voice.
“I haven’t heard you talk about a woman like this since Mom, Jonas. It’s a natural question.”
Damn. I have to give him that. I tend to keep my romantic entanglements close to the chest. “She’s a tall blonde who thinks she’s a giant. She has blue eyes that would skewer you in a heartbeat,” I tell him honestly.
“Hmm” is all he says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that. Hmm. I suppose this will be an interesting month for you on several fronts. No pretentious restaurants to eat at, no swanky clubs to go to. Real food and real people, Jonas. Make the most of it.”
While I’m still trying to figure out the puzzle my twin just dropped in my lap, he says, “When does all of this start?”
“Tomorrow. Eight o’clock.”
“In the morning?” Now he’s flat out laughing at me. “I’d better let you get some beauty rest, then.”
“Love you too, brother,” I say, hanging up while he’s still laughing in my ear.
After putting my phone back in my pocket, I grab my bag and head back toward the street. Quickly pulling up my app, I’m told it will be ten minutes before a car can get me. I wince when I see the cost. “That’s highway robbery!” I yelp.
An elderly couple walks by hand in hand. “Problems, son?”
“No, nothing, sir. Just surprised by how much it costs to get back to Manhattan.”
The woman laughs. “You should see the cost of a cab. Before they had those car service things, it made traveling at night even more problematic. Trains don’t run that late out here.”
“I appreciate the problem,” A pair of headlights heads toward us. Quickly, I check the make and model against my app. “I think that’s my ride. I hope you both have a nice evening,” I tell them as I approach the car.
“You as well,” the gentleman calls back. Discreetly, I watch them make their way toward Trina’s building. Fleetingly, I wonder if I’ll run into them again.
Jumping into the car, I sit back and pull up Trina’s complex on my phone while I’m relaxing on the way back to the heart of New York. My eyes bug out when I check out the layout of her unit. “Jesus, I could pick up this whole place and plop it into my bedroom in Manhattan. And there’s three people living there?”
“Did you say something?” the bored driver asks.
“No.” At least not intended for anyone else to hear.
Unable to comprehend it, I mumble, “I’m beginning to understand,” thinking about the words Trina hurled at me with respect to her living situation. And when I add in the memories of my mother on top of it, my heart begins to ache. Fortunately, the car moves quickly through the streets to arrive at my building.
Soon, I’m getting ready for bed in a place that’s way too big for one person. While we didn’t have a lot growing up, City Lights gave us a lot. As much as I’ve been frustrated with my uncle over the years for his lackadaisical management style, I can’t see myself anywhere else. Plugging in my phone to charge, I set the alarm for—I wince—way too early. Then I douse the lights, wondering what delights await me at Trina’s for breakfast.
As sleep begins to pull me under, I wonder what kind of routine Trina has to go through to get her kids settled after they’re excited to see Mom after work. I know exactly how wound up kids can be when their mother gets home from work.
With the image of me and Julian racing for the door when it opened at the forefront of my mind, I slip into sleep.
I’m cursing as I tug on jeans and a long-sleeve Henley at 7:00 the next morning. “I can’t believe the hot water didn’t work in the bathroom. I need to call and have that addressed with the maintenance team. The HOA in this place is ridiculous—” Shivering, I catch myself complaining about when the reality is it’s an inconvenience that will likely be repaired in a few hours. It’s not like I’m sleeping three in a one-bedroom.
Quickly grabbing my jacket, I shoot off a text to Karlson with the new parameters of my living situation for the next twenty-nine days. His reply of How the hell are you supposed to survive on a salary like that? makes my lips quirk as it resembles my own thoughts so closely.
Apparently very easily is my fast reply as I race for the subway stop near my building.
Chapter 6
Jonas
After being buzzed up, I’m greeted the moment I get off the elevator by a very different Trina Paxton than the one I left hours before. She’s… I struggle for the right word in a mind that’s forced to think of the perfect ones week after week, finally landing on softer.
Her attractiveness hasn’t diminished by the fact she has a tiny little girl clinging around her neck or a sturdier-looking boy with identical features of a similar age clinging to her leg. If anything, it amplifies the assessment I’d already started to form of her. Adding the very real visual of her as a mother shouldn’t cause me to want to rub a hand against my aching heart. But my eyes narrow as I get closer. Suddenly, awareness strikes me. “Your children are twins?” I blurt out the question as I approach.
Immediately on guard, Trina throws up shields around her family that must be part of the magical superpowers mothers earn once their children are born. “Does it matter, Jonas?” Her voice is a mixture of sleepy frost that hits me low in the gut.
“Only because I’m a twin,” I inform her.
That shocks her enough to step backward, yanking the door with her. “No way.” She thaws enough to gape.
“Really. We’re fraternal, but we look so much alike we often could pass as identical when we were young.” Even though Trina hasn’t quite invited me in, she hasn’t moved either. But because there are little ones involved, I want to make sure I don’t do anything wrong. Instead, I crouch in front of the little boy and point to myself. “I’m Jonas.”
He claps his hand together wildly and shrieks, “Nono!” a chubby finger pointing in my direction. Helplessly, my head tips upward
. And I wouldn’t be a red-blooded male if I didn’t notice the length of Trina’s legs out of the periphery of my eye as I find her neither irritated nor trying to block me from entry, but reaching down to pluck the toddler off the floor instead. His chubby hand whacks her on the chin, but she doesn’t seem to notice. The little girl just giggles and kisses the spot as if this is an everyday occurrence.
And in between, Trina backs up all the way and jerks her head for me to join them. Scrambling to my feet, I do, moving past the small family into an equally small family room that has a mug of steaming coffee luring me with its scent to perform a snatch and grab as soon as I spy it on the table.
Then I hear something that sends a shot of adrenaline straight to my dick. “Jo-nas.” Trina enunciates each syllable of my name as she tries to correct her children in a soft voice—softer than I would have imagined from a woman who went head-to-head with the boorish Chef Spencer only nights ago. I just hope my reaction isn’t noticeable.
“Nono!” This time it’s chirped from a tiny feminine voice. I spin around with a wide grin on my face.
Trina’s shaking her head with a rueful smile. “I hope you don’t mind being christened by these two.”
“Not at all. They’re exquisite,” I tell her honestly.
Her face softens as she nuzzles the boy’s head before pressing a kiss to the top of the girl’s. “The small tank I have here is Christopher—Chris. And this is Annabelle—Annie.” Trina rakes her eyes up and over me. “I have an apron,” she offers oddly.
“Do I need one?” I glance down at my casual sweater and jeans, both nice but not ridiculously expensive.
That’s when a spark of the fiery woman comes through when a Cheshire cat smile spreads across her face. “Only if you plan on having a conversation with me in the next thirty minutes. It’s time to feed these two, so I’ll be tied up in the kitchen. I can’t guarantee you’ll come out looking the same as when you go in. But if you’d like to enjoy a cup of coffee and wait, that’s fine.”
Challenged by You: A Fusion Universe Novel Page 4