by Kelly Cain
She may say she’s tired, but she actually looks spry. I hope that means she won’t have a flare for a while, but they can sprout up anytime.
I wash my hands and hang up my chef’s jacket. “I don’t have a problem with her. Hannah’s a great cook. I just wonder what’s going on with her and Wyatt. He’s too young to get serious with anyone.”
She shakes her head and mumbles something to herself.
“What was that, Mama?”
“Nothing, chile. All you have to do is ask them if you really want to know.”
The dishwasher comes from the dining room with an empty plate, a few bones the only evidence there was anything ever on it. That customer must have inhaled their meal, then licked the plate.
“It’s whatever. I don’t have time to worry about that right now. Let’s get this kitchen where it needs to be so I can go upstairs. We have an early morning tomorrow.”
She laughs to herself but doesn’t say another word.
*
Thursdays are our slowest days. That’s not saying much, but we do get a small reprieve. Morning prep is always the busiest on any day, but the time we’re closed between lunch and dinner gives us a run for our money too.
The kitchen is busy—what’s new?—with Hannah directing the two other cooks, and waitstaff rotating in and out. I step out into the dining room and inspect the tables, something Mama would usually do if she were here. Wyatt’s behind the bar with the new bartender. He’s been working on a signature drink, but it’s been eluding him so far. For an accounting major, he certainly is talented when it comes to alcohol, specializing in wine. Which is ironic considering I went to culinary school in the heart of Napa Valley, prime California wine country.
With only twenty minutes before we open for the evening, my phone rings with a four-one-five area code. My breath catches, then I answer. “Hello, this is Rowan Townsend.”
I can’t imagine what I look like when I hang up the phone but it must really be something because all the bustling activity in the restaurant comes to a standstill.
Tears are streaming down my face.
Wyatt gets to me first. “What’s wrong? Is it Mama?”
I shake my head no. Even though Mama said she was feeling well last night, she woke up this morning not great. She wanted to rest a couple of days, so Daddy picked her up and took her out to his house on the lake. They’ve been divorced over fifteen years but have always remained close. Even more so since she was diagnosed. As long as he doesn’t offer her any money to help out, they don’t have any problems. Neither have remarried, but they discovered they’re much better friends than anything else.
“It was a producer from Restaurant Family Feud.” I set my phone on the nearest table and sit down hard right there in the middle of the restaurant, letting out a high-pitched yelp. “We’re in, Wyatt. We made it.”
Wyatt pulls me up from the floor, and we dance around hugging and laughing. The waitstaff clap for us and I’m riding high. “Oh my God. I knew we had a great chance of getting in, but I didn’t think we would. Know what I mean?”
He high-fives me, a huge smile on his face. “I never doubted it, dear sister.”
Hannah peeks her head out of the kitchen door. “Congrats, guys. Time to open.”
I swear, if I wasn’t going to need her the next four months, I’d fire her ass. Wyatt could just be mad. Ugh, who am I fooling? She’s the best employee we have next to Sue. Plus, she’s right. I put on my get-down-to-business face. We can celebrate later.
When the last guests leave sometime after midnight, I flop onto the booth seat behind the host stand. My lower back aches and my white smock is covered in splashes of sauces and gravy, plus I smell of garlic. It’s been a long night and I’ve been running on pure adrenaline. I haven’t even had a chance to call Mama to give her the wonderful news. She’ll be thrilled.
The front door opens and someone walks in. Through my haze, I find his gait familiar but it’s a dark entry, and out of context, I have a momentary lapse. When he steps into the light of the host stand, I realize who it is, and pop up from the bench. “We’re closed, Everheart.”
“I’m not here to eat, Amber. I came to congratulate you and your family. I hear you’re going to be a TV star.”
I narrow my eyes and stare into his. Cornflower blue. Fuck. “What do you know?”
He winks, then steps back, widening his stance, and blows a huge bubble with his gum before popping it. The sound leaves a ringing in my ear. “I know we’ll be in competition in about three weeks.”
The words sink in slowly. We? I can barely think straight as I realize what he’s implying. My hands shake and my skin turns cold. “That’s impossible. Why would you? You already have a restaurant.”
“Just as you reminded me at the nursery…my father has a restaurant. Not me.” He goes to leave, but before he walks out, he turns back to me, smirking. “See you on the dance floor, Amber.”
*
“We have to drop out, Mama. I can’t be around Knox again. I won’t compete against him anymore. You not feeling well the last few days is a sign. What if you had a flare during competition?” I pace back and forth, nervous energy skittering over my skin.
Mama sits in her favorite chair in the family room of her one-story brick home. I couldn’t wait to get out of her house and away from her rules, moving halfway across the country as soon as I got my high school diploma. Yet I’m basically still under her rules, working in her restaurant and renting out the apartment above it.
Wyatt shifts on the couch next to me. He understands that I have major beef with Knox. He knows how it all started, but he was too busy being a teenage boy to really care. I’ve left them both out of the ridiculousness of our shared college experience, although they’re aware that Knox and I never made up or got along the whole time.
After sipping her herbal tea, Mama carefully sets the cup on its saucer in her lap and focuses on me. “You’re the one who convinced me to enter this competition, remember? You had a whole set of arguments and even though I wasn’t sure about it, you sold me on it. And Wyatt. Now you just want to back out? Because of the Everhearts?”
“You don’t understand, Mama. You can’t possibly kn—”
She raises a stilling hand and I promptly shut it. “I’ve known Flynn since we were in grade school. There’s nothing that you can tell me about an Everheart, doll. I don’t know if we’ll ever win against them, but here’s what we’re not going to do—we’re not going to let them run us out of this competition. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am. I understand.” I lower my head and rub my temple. I want to win more than anything in this world. Mostly because we need it. We need a bigger place to solve our menu constraints. To hire more staff to accommodate our growing clientele. To ensure Mama is set and her medical insurance needs are met. But I’m not sure I can beat Knox. I’ve never beaten him in anything. And it burns me up that I have to try. He doesn’t need this at all.
“Mama, how do you think Knox knew we made it into the competition? When the producers called, they told me there were seven other families, but they didn’t give me their names.”
She raises her eyebrows, then picks up her teacup, taking a sip. “Flynn’s reach is far and wide. Even though this is his son’s endeavor, he would ensure no rock was left unturned to secure Knox’s place. Just as he did over ten years ago when he got him into that fancy school.”
I’ve always wondered how my mom knew about Knox’s dad and the bribery. I’ve come close to asking her but when I hinted, she quickly changed the subject or made vague references to get me off the trail. I suppose it doesn’t matter because if she said it, then it’s so, but I do wonder how we’re so connected to that family in the most ridiculous ways. Here’s another chapter to add to the long saga of the Townsend/Everheart conflict.
“As much as I don’t want to work so closely with Knox again, you’re right, Mama. I can’t let him win by default.” I rotate right to face W
yatt, the third member of Team Townsend. He’s been quiet throughout, and I already know he’ll do whatever Mama tells him, but I want to hear it from him. “Well, brother, what say you?”
His face splits into a huge grin. “I say let’s kick some Everheart butt.”
Punch… Me in the Face
1 business-saving competition
1 Asshat
1/2 bottle red wine
1/2 bottle Topo Chico, any flavor
1 funnel
Gain entry to business-saving competition. Add Asshat. Place funnel in mouth and pour wine and Topo together down throat.
Yield: 1 drunk-enough Rowan to make it through this nightmare.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gauntlet thrown.
San Francisco in the spring is cold. Just like San Francisco in the winter, summer, and fall. The only difference is whether there’s rain or not. We didn’t have a ton of free time during school, but when we did have a few hours for leisure, we usually spent it in San Francisco. My friends, Senné and Monique, and I scoured the superior dining scene as far as our dollars would take us. Some, like Knox, had cash that took them a lot farther than the rest of us.
My favorites were hidden treasures far from the wharf and other tourist spots, those with spectacular views and even better food. Certainly, someone just out of high school from Texas would be a tourist, but I quickly made Northern California my home.
When Daddy would visit, we would go visit his cousin over in the Oakland Hills. She had a huge house with lots of balconies and the views were breathtaking.
I’ve done enough reminiscing, so I close the drapes in my high-rise hotel room and get down to business, reading through the notes I’ve been making the past three weeks. I didn’t come to San Francisco to sightsee; I came to win. I make a few annotations on my list of possible competitions they may throw at us along with dishes we could make, then close my laptop.
My room adjoins Mama’s whose adjoins Wyatt’s. I’m assuming the other contestants are in this hotel too, but I’ve been hiding out in my room, preparing. If I can be honest with myself—and if I can’t, who can I be honest with?—I don’t want to run into Knox any sooner than I have to. I’m not that keen on seeing his brothers, Weston or Declan, either.
Before I knock on Mama’s door, I check my watch. I’d love to call Sue and see how everything’s going back at the restaurant, but they’re two hours ahead of us which puts them right in the middle of dinner service. I’m not 100 percent sure, but I don’t think she’d appreciate a check-up call from me. Instead, I open my door and rap on it and wait for Mama to unlock her side. She doesn’t respond right away, so of course I think the worse and bang on the door. When she doesn’t answer, I race into the hall and go down two doors to Wyatt’s room.
“Jeesh, Rowan, where’s the fire?”
“Mama’s not answering. Knock from your side.”
He widens the door, beckoning me inside. Mama is perched on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, lips pressed together in a thin line.
“Mama? Why didn’t you answer?”
She glances at Wyatt’s closed joined door and back at me. “I didn’t hear you, Rowan.”
I cross my arms over my chest and look at Wyatt who holds his hands up. “Don’t look at me.” Of course not. He’s always on Mama’s side no matter what.
After taking a breath, I sit next to her on the bed. “I’m sorry. I was worried.”
She doesn’t want to hear these words because she wants us to pretend nothing has changed. Pretend she’s not sick. Pretend she’s invincible, just as she’s always been.
She waves her hand, and stands. “Wyatt and I were just talking about dinner plans. We could go to that little place with the delicious shrimp salad, up on the hill you took us to before.”
Since the subject has been effortlessly changed, I may as well go with it. What would be the point of pushing her? I was wrong—she was perfectly fine, her eyes clear and no tiredness. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Mama, but there are quite a few hills around here and shrimp Louie basically headlines their city charter. Which time did we go?”
“It was the time we came for your birthday, Labor Day weekend.”
That sounds a little more familiar. “Let me check my phone. I’m pretty sure I know where.” After a couple of clicks, the spot comes up. It’s off the beaten path so we won’t need reservations. “It’ll be open in a half hour. Are you guys hungry this early?”
Wyatt raises his hand like we’re in Sunday school.
I crack my knuckles and nod for him to speak.
“I’m starved. Let’s leave now, eat a good meal, then head back early enough to get a full night’s rest. We have to be at the studio super early tomorrow.”
Dinner is the last thing on my mind, but he makes a good point. I raise my brows to Mama and she gives me a thumbs-up.
“Okay, then. Let’s go. Just let me grab my backpack and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
I zoom back to my room, the door left wide open, and survey my belongings, paying special attention that my knives are there. Thankfully nothing looks missing. After gathering my backpack with everything I need, I stop by the bathroom to splash some water on my face. Jeesh, hot mess alert. Seems like the flight west always takes something out of me. I gather my tight coils into a loose bun on the top of my head and use some water to smooth my edges since that’s all I have time for. I longingly look at the Jacuzzi tub which I can only hope I’ll have time for at least once while I’m here. Only thing left is to apply a little lip gloss and hope for the best, because my faded jeans and sweater will have to do.
When the elevator door opens, I thank the Lord the box is empty. Chatty Cathy I’m not. The doors close and I push the button, but before it moves, the doors ding and slide open. If he’s surprised to see me, he certainly doesn’t show it. Knox steps onto the elevator with a sly grin. I’d bet dollars to donuts he watched me get on the elevator and timed it just so. Fucker.
“Rowan.”
“Knox.”
Thank goodness I combed my hair. Not that it matters—it’s only him—but he’d probably have something snide to say.
The doors close and the air thickens with a chocolaty smell. Knox takes a bite of his candy bar and offers it to me.
As if I’d ever accept candy from him. I dish him out a scathing look in response.
He shrugs and turns his back to me, but his reflection bounces off all the mirrored walls. How can he eat all the junk in the world and still be this fit? He’s super thin but super cut too. It boggles the mind. At least today he has sense enough to wear long pants. Looks like he hasn’t forgotten San Francisco completely either. And the way he stands… I have no words for it. It’s as if whatever’s between his legs is too big or too much or too something, and he doesn’t want to smother it. Them? Ugh. Who stands like that?
I put my earbuds in and search my phone for an appropriate song because what’s between Knox’s legs is not anything I want to ponder. Gross. I spot “Nice Weather for Knives” and hit play. When the elevator dings again, the doors open up to the lobby. He saunters off without a backward glance, lifting his hand in dismissal.
And that’s how Knox Everheart ruined my first day in San Francisco. The competition hasn’t even begun. Then again, maybe it has. Only I’m playing checkers while he plays chess.
*
When I hurry into the studio, I have to turn and wait for Mama and Wyatt to keep up. They’re lagging behind, talking with the producer who met us at the hired car when we arrived downstairs. She’s balancing a clipboard, a tablet, and a phone, while alternately talking into her headset and with Mama. That’s way too much going on for me, and my nerves are already bad. We reviewed the packet they sent us before we came here, and I’ve committed everything to memory.
There are stainless steel kitchen stations set up for two competing families at a time, and there are four areas sectioned off for the families that are here the next two days to compete.
Later this week, there will be four new families, sending two families into the semi-finals to compete against the families that come out of our heat. It’s a weird setup, but this is the third season and the show is super popular, so I guess they know what they’re doing. Our restaurant is closed today so we really only needed extra coverage for tomorrow and a travel day Wednesday, but Sue’s awesome and is taking my shifts all week. No way I’m not staying to see the other competitors. Mama and Wyatt have to go back though. We can’t all be gone all week.
The rest of my family finally comes in. Mama’s face is smooth and calm, but Wyatt is looking a little green around the gills, so I grab his hand and we walk over to our section together, as a united front. We decided to wear apple-green chef coats trimmed in black (green’s my favorite color and I think it’ll bring us luck) and those jackets are waiting on hooks near three comfortable seats around a round table.
The Everhearts haven’t arrived yet, but I peek over at their station. They’ve opted for black coats…to accompany their black hearts I suppose.
Another family is here already. The sign reads “Smith Family” and when I glance their way, they’re smiling at us. Mama smiles back and Wyatt waves. I stare, features perfectly schooled. I don’t have it in me to smile—I’m in beast mode. They’re already wearing their light blue jackets, and they have the same structure as our family—a mom, and what looks like her son and daughter. The son is…cute. Not Everheart beautiful, but perfectly nice looking, if not a little average. Average height, average hair color, average build. He’s still looking at me, and still smiling. He pushes his brown hair off his forehead and reveals brown eyes. I smile back before remembering myself. Back to beast mode.
The fourth family’s sign reads “Dolter Family” and hanging up behind their table are pink jackets trimmed in white. They haven’t made it here yet either.
I open my laptop and review my notes on possible competitions. Meanwhile Wyatt gets up and looks at the station where we’ll be competing—breaking rule number eight.