Chapter 9
Evan
At the end of the evening, Lora and I parted with a gentle kiss. I was revved up with passion and wanted to pull her into me for a deep, intense, fiery kiss—but also, I could sense that, for whatever reason, she was holding back, and she didn't want to take things too far this evening. Also, neither of us had really had much to drink, so it was easier to be restrained.
Still though, I couldn't deny that the same fiery attraction I felt toward her still lingered, burning deep. And judging by the look in her eyes when we parted, it remained in her as well. But what were we going to do about this?
After she left, I helped my staff to shut down the restaurant, and then I got in my car to drive home. Just as I turned the key in the ignition, my phone rang. Wondering if it might be Lora, I took my phone out. Instead, JB’s name flashed on the screen. For a moment, I wondered whether I should answer the call. Was he calling to tell me that he had managed to stay sober again, or was he blind drunk and calling me to spew a bunch of bullshit?
Only one way to find out.
“Hey JB,” I said.
“Hey there.”
There was something weird about his tone. Now I was starting to feel suspicious.
“What's up, man?” I asked. “It's pretty late. Is this about something important?”
“I'm sober. Haven't touched a bottle all night—except the ones I've sold to customers.”
“Good for you,” I said, but I was still suspicious.
“Business is booming, it's booming here!” There was a hint of arrogance in his voice, and he sounded almost confrontational.
“That's great to hear.”
“I got a karaoke thing set up. It's bangin' bro. Bringing in the crowds! This bar is rocking like it used to in the old days.”
“Whoa, hold up,” I said. “You have a karaoke thing? What do you mean?”
“A karaoke machine, man!”
“Where the hell did you get the money for that? And why the hell didn't you ask me first?”
“I've got money,” he replied sullenly.
“Really? Then why the hell did I have to drive all the way out there two weeks ago to pay for the damages you caused when you were on a bender?”
“I…all right fine, I borrowed some money to pay for the karaoke machine,” he admitted. “But who cares? It's gonna bring in some great profits! I'll be able to pay back the loan in no time.”
I groaned and rubbed the back of my neck, trying to think quickly. With JB's terrible credit record and his widespread reputation for total irresponsibility, no bank in Wytheville would have given him a loan. So that meant he had probably gone to a loan shark…or worse.
“JB, tell me this,” I said, doing my best to remain calm. “Where did you get the money to pay for this karaoke machine?”
“I told you, I borrowed it. And I'll pay it back with ease. Why are you so damn worried about that stupid little detail anyway? Shouldn't you just be happy that business is booming?”
“Damn it, JB, borrowing money isn't just a 'stupid little detail.' I know for a fact that no bank would have given you money, so just tell me who you borrowed from.”
“You don't need to know that,” he muttered. “And anyway, I already cleared it with Dad.”
What. The. Fuck. “You went over my head to Dad?”
“Well, he owns the bar, doesn't he?” he snapped. “You act like it belongs to you completely, but he owns it!”
“He and I are fifty-fifty partners, JB, so yeah, I do own it, actually.”
“And so does he. And I don't have to come to you with every little detail. It's mine to manage. I get to call the shots here. You don't even live here, man, and you've got all your damn restaurants to take care of. Why can't you just let me take care of this on my own?”
“Uh, because you're totally irresponsible and you let situations get out of control. Like a prominent lawyer's kid getting his jaw broken in our bar! That's why JB.”
“I'm not like that!” he roared. “I'm sober now, and I'm gonna prove it. I'm gonna show you, and all of them, that I can be just as successful as Evan, the golden boy. I'm not gonna live in your damn shadow forever. And if it means I have to take matters into my own hands to make things work out for me, then so be it. So, shut up with your damned questions and criticism.”
This was going nowhere. There was going to be trouble with this sketchy loan he'd taken out from who knew where, but now was obviously not the time to talk about it. I'd need to talk to Dad about this, but he'd be asleep now.
“Whatever,” I said. “Enjoy your karaoke evening. I'm going to sleep.”
“Whatever, Evan. You just think you're so much better than me, and—”
I cut the call off and put the phone in my pocket. It started ringing again right away, but I ignored it. I put my phone on silent mode and then drove home, thinking alternately about this foolish thing that JB had just done, and about Lora. Now there were two things I knew I wouldn't be able to get off my mind, and I could only pray that I would be able to get some sleep.
* * * * *
“All right, show her in,” I said to Sean.
I was seated behind my desk in the office at Nine the following day where I was conducting a few interviews to hire a new waitress. I had been thinking about Lora, as well as JB, all night, and I hadn't been able to get much sleep.
“Sure thing,” said Sean, and he hurried out of the office to get the first interviewee.
After a few moments, there was a knock on the door.
“Come on in,” I said.
The door opened, and a stunning young woman stepped inside. She was tall and had both a model's figure and face. Gorgeous red hair tumbled around her slim shoulders. She was dressed in a light blouse and a very short skirt that revealed much of her long, shapely legs. She looked young, maybe twenty or twenty-one years old.
“Hi,” I said, “you must be Carrie Finch.”
She nodded, beaming a flirtatious, bright white smile at me. “That's me,” she replied. “And you must be Mr. Powers. It's an honor to meet you, sir.”
“Please, call me Evan,” I said smiling. “Take a seat.”
She sauntered over to the chair in front of my desk and sat down slowly, almost provocatively. She then ran her fingers through her hair and tossed it stylishly back over her shoulders, smiling all the time. She was definitely getting her flirting game on.
“So, Carrie, do you have any experience in waitressing? And I'm not talking about at some burger joint or pizza parlor. I mean at a real gourmet restaurant.”
“I do,” she said. “I worked under Jeff Bailey for two years, and in a four-star Italian restaurant for six months before that.”
Jeff Bailey was a well-known chef in the next county, and his restaurants were famous for their high-quality food and their great atmosphere.
“Well, that's pretty good experience, quite relevant to what you'd be doing here at Nine.”
“I'm a big fan of fine dining, Evan. Food is my passion. I need to waitress to put myself through culinary school, eventually. And that's one reason I want to work here. You're a legend among restaurateurs. I feel like I could learn a lot about how to succeed in this game just by being around someone as intense and passionate about dining as you.”
“Well, that's quite flattering, Carrie,” I said, unable to stop grinning, “but flattery won't get you this job.”
“I'm fully aware of that,” she replied with a suggestive smile. “And I certainly don't mean to suggest that I'm willing to do anything…off the books, so to speak…to get this job. It's just hard not to be overwhelmed in the presence of someone like yourself.”
“I'm an average guy, like any other. I just work hard.”
“There's no way you're 'an average guy,' Evan. You're…amazing.”
She looked away, blushing. I had to admit, having my ego stroked was pretty cool, but the whole time this gorgeous young woman was flirting with me, thoughts of Lora kept popping into my head. It wasn't as if Lora and I were exclusive or anything like that, but I couldn't deny the fiery, intense attraction with Lora that had seemed to only get stronger on our last date, even though we had only talked.
I was still confused about where to take the whole thing with Lora, though. It seemed fairly obvious that she was after a relationship. I had been honest with her—I didn't have time for anything like that, not if I wanted to take my business to the places it deserved to go.
But on the other hand, there was…there was fate. It seemed as if it were drawing us to each other, as if she and I were meant to be together. Could I really deny that?
I had tried to get her out of my head, but nothing seemed to work. Thoughts of her kept popping up, over and over again. I couldn't just “turn off” the feelings I had for her. In fact, the more I tried to, the more intensely I felt attracted to her.
I pushed these thoughts away and tried to concentrate on the beautiful young woman in front of me.
Come on, Evan, look at her. She's stunning, she looks like she should be on the runway, or on a magazine cover, and she's totally hot for you. Forget about Lora for a while…
“Thank you, Carrie,” I said, doing my best to remain calm and focused. “But like I said, flattery won't get you the job.”
“I really, really do need this job though,” she said. “I just moved here, and after paying my first month's rent and deposit, I've hardly got anything left. I have to start working right away. Isn't there anything I could do…something I could help you with, in private? Something that I'd never tell a soul about, and something that I have to admit, I've fantasized about.”
Whew. She was really turning the heat up. But even with an offer of casual, no-strings-attached sex with this smoking hot woman, thoughts of Lora were front and center. I sighed and shook my head, sad to be passing up this opportunity, but at the same time not too sad, because I knew that it was the right thing to do.
“No, no, I'm sorry, but it doesn't work like that, not here. I'm not that kind of person. I'm flattered that you've, um, thought of me. But I don't do stuff like that. You'll get the job if you're the best person for the job. So, can we get on with this interview without any more suggestions like that? Because I'm telling you now, any more suggestions along those lines will make me pass you over and hire someone else instead. Do you understand?”
She nodded, looking a bit crestfallen. “My apologies,” she said sullenly. “That was very unprofessional of me.”
“It's okay,” I said, softening up a little. “We all make mistakes.”
“It's just that I really do need this job. And I really do want to learn from you. I meant what I said—you're a legend around here, and I do want to go to chef's school and eventually be a master chef and restaurateur one day. This is the perfect place for me to learn about all of that kind of stuff.”
“Okay,” I said gently. “I'll keep that in mind. Now, let's talk about your experience at Jeff's restaurant. Which branch did you work at?”
* * * * *
“So, uh, you don't know the difference between ribeye steak, filet mignon, and a T-bone steak?” I asked the scruffy-looking young man sprawled out in the chair in front of me.
“Uh, not really,” he replied nonchalantly. “They're all just, like, steaks though, right? I mean, does it really matter that there's some difference between them?”
Under the table, my fists clenched tightly. I had been at this for hours and I was ready to be done with it.
“In my restaurant, Mr. Forsyth, it definitely does matter,” I replied coldly.
He flashed a goofy grin my way. “Whatever you say. You're the boss.”
I noticed how red and glassy his eyes seemed. “Hold up a minute,” I said. “Are you—are you stoned?”
He chuckled knowingly and grinned—but then realized that admitting to being stoned in a job interview was not a good thing.
“Oh, no. No way, dude. I'm not stoned. I wouldn't, like, do that.”
“If you were stoned, though, it would explain a lot about how and why you answered the questions the way you have during this interview,” I said dryly.
“No, man. I wouldn't smoke before a job interview,” he said.
“How old did you say you were again, Mr. Forsyth?” I asked.
A broad, goofy grin once again spread across his face. “I'm nineteen. Last year of my teenage years. Then I'm gonna be a real adult. Bummer.”
“Nineteen. I see. And where was your previous work experience?”
“Well, I flipped burgers at Burger King for a couple weeks over summer vacation. And I had a job washing dishes for a couple days at this Chinese place owned by these like, immigrants who didn't speak English. Um…I used to mow my neighbor's lawn for like twenty dollars an afternoon, and uh—”
I sighed. “I think that this interview is over, Mr. Forsyth.”
He smiled. “So, I like, got the job?!”
I gave him a cool, thin smile. “Don't call us, Mr. Forsyth. We'll call you.”
He got up, grinning triumphantly, and stumbled out of my office. As he did, I leaned back in my chair and sighed. Interviewing people could be really tiring and frustrating. I thought about the fifteen different people I'd interviewed over the last two hours. Most had been completely unsuitable for the position—like Mr. Forsyth. I had to admit that the best person for the job was the first interviewee—the stunning redhead, Carrie Finch. Unlike the rest of the losers who had just been looking for an easy way to make a couple of dollars, she was passionate about the high-end restaurant business and wanted to get into it herself one day. She had plenty of relevant experience, and a detailed knowledge of gourmet cuisine.
And she seemed to have a serious crush on me. That could end up being a problem. Still, what else could I do? Hire some goofy stoner? No, there was no way I could allow an ignorant dope-head to work in my restaurant. Not a chance. It would have to be Carrie.
Before I could think any further on the issue, there was a knock on the door. That was weird; I had finished all the interviews for the day and wasn't expecting anyone else.
“Uh, come in,” I said warily.
The door opened, and Lora stood there with a bottle of wine in her hands.
“Hi Evan,” she said, her voice honey-sweet.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” I said.
Maybe that was a bit forward, but the words had just popped right out of my mouth. She was wearing a sleek black business suit that accentuated her sexy curves, and I just couldn't take my eyes off her.
“That's the kind of greeting I like to hear,” she said, smiling. “May I come in?”
“Please do. What do you have there?”
“This is the reason I came,” she said. “It's a brand-new product from the winery. Non-alcoholic sparkling white, for customers who don't want alcohol, but who do want a classy beverage to accompany their meal.”
“Interesting,” I said. “I actually don't have anything on my menus right now that fits that sort of bill, so this might be just what I need.”
She walked in and set the bottle down on the desk in front of me. “You got any glasses I could put this in?”
“Not in here, but I'll get someone to bring a couple in.”
I picked up the desk on my phone and buzzed the kitchen.
Sean answered. “Hey, Boss.”
“Sean, bring two wine glasses to my office, thanks.”
“No problem.”
“The glasses are on their way,” I said to Lora.
“Who was that dopey-looking kid who just came out of your office?” she asked. “He sure looked happy about something.”
I chuckled. “He was the last in an extensive line of interviews for an opening here. We need a new food server, as one of mine is moving to Arizona.”
“And he got the job? Is that why he looked so happy?” she asked.
I laughed and shook my head. “He definitely did not get the job,” I answered. “Even though he clearly thinks he did. There were two totally different interviews that happened simultaneously in here,” I said. “There was the one that actually happened, and the one that happened in his head.”
Lora laughed. “I see. Well, he did look like he was in…some sort of altered state of mind, to put it mildly.”
“He was totally stoned. I don't know what goes through kids' heads these days if they think they can show up at an interview stoned out of their minds and actually have half a shot of getting the job.”
She laughed again. “I'm glad I don't have to interview anyone,” she said. “I don't think I'd be able to keep a straight face if some kid showed up like that for an interview.”
I laughed. “There were definitely a few times during that interview I found it pretty tough to keep a straight face. I felt more floored with disbelief than amused, though. I mean, this kid had zero experience working as a waiter. He barely had any work experience at all. He clearly padded his resume, or he wouldn’t have gotten the interview.”
“Maybe it seemed like a good idea. I mean, more often than not, bad ideas seem like good ideas to someone under the influence.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like it comes from experience,” I remarked. “I didn't imagine that you were ever a stoner, Lora.”
“Oh, I wasn’t,” she said. “Not at all.”
“So, you've never tried marijuana?”
“Just once. My ex used to smoke it a lot, and in the beginning of our relationship, back when he was at least pretending to be a nice guy, he used his charm to convince me to try it once.”
“What did you think about it?” I asked, now very curious to hear her answer.
“I didn't like it. It made me feel sleepy and woozy, and made my mind very fuzzy. I don't really have anything against other people doing it if it works for them, but it's not something I'd do myself. How about you?”
“I tried it once or twice in France, but I didn't like it much either,” I said. “It made me feel kinda groggy like it did to you. I don't see what the big deal about it is. And if it makes you act like that dumb kid, then the appeal is even less.”
“Looks like we're in agreement on that topic. So, did anyone end up getting the job?” she asked.
I wondered if I should tell her about Carrie Finch. Something told me not to, not at this point. I don't know why.
“I haven't decided yet,” I said.
Just then, Sean knocked lightly and then came in with two wine glasses.
“Thanks, Sean,” I said as he nodded and exited. “Let's try this out, shall we?”
I poured us each a taste. We clinked glasses, and then took a sip.
“Mmm,” I said, genuinely impressed. “This is good! Way better than any non-alcoholic wine deserves to be.”
“I knew you'd like it,” she said.
I took another, longer sip, and held it in my mouth for a while. “Yes, it really does capture the essence of real wine and doesn't just taste like fruit juice. Great!”
“I'm glad you like it,” she said. “Now, tell me, would you like to have some real wine with me—later this evening?”
I smiled. “Did you just ask me out on a date, Lora?”
She nodded. “I guess I did. What do you say?”
“Sounds great to me. But can I pick the place?”
She pursed her lips, considering. “I suppose that would be all right.”
I gave her a big grin. “How about around eight?”
“Eight sounds prefect.”