Chapter Three
Nate
“Nate, can I talk to you for a few minutes?” my assistant Clara asks on Monday, knocking at my open door. We’re in one of the network’s studios on the outskirts of San Francisco. Until my job in London starts officially, I’m overseeing a local production here. As an executive producer, I’m in charge of everything from finances to operational implementation and logistics, casting, directing, overseeing shoots, and sometimes screenwriting too. Right now, my focus here is overseeing shoots.
“Sure.” Sitting straight in my chair, I survey Clara closely. She’s opening and closing her hands repeatedly. I’ve worked with her long enough to know this means she’s stressed out. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, I’ve worked for you for some time now.”
“Three years.” She started out as a back-office assistant but gradually took on more responsibilities. She could make a great producer one day.
She offers me the first smile for the day, albeit a weak one. “You’re right.”
“Clara, it’s me. What’s wrong? You can tell me to my face.”
“I don’t want to transfer to the London office,” she blurts out. “I love working with you, but I can’t see myself moving there.”
“I understand.”
I hadn’t seen this one coming. She’s stuck by my side, traveled the world with me. For the past few years, I was the executive producer of a show that required us to relocate every few months, sometimes weeks. I had eight people on my team, but Clara is the last one standing from the original group. People believe an international life is glamorous: the travel, the new people you meet, the new places you see. The truth is much less glamorous: planes to catch, hotels to check in and out of, adjusting to new time zones, food, language.
Traveling is great for a hobby, exhausting for a living. Whenever one of my team members decided to leave, I made sure to find them jobs if they wanted to stay within the network.
“You want to stay with the network?”
Clara nods eagerly. “I already looked at the internal job postings.”
“I’m meeting Horowitz today. I can put in a good word for you.” Horowitz is the head of several divisions of the network and has the ear of big bosses too.
“You’d do that?”
“Of course. I look after my people, Clara. You are one of my people.” I think of her as a younger sister, who is usually very meddling—almost to the point of annoyance.
“Thank you.” She bounces on her feet, clapping her hands together. “By the way, Sarah from editing stopped by earlier. She’s single and seemed interested in having lunch with you. To catch up, of course.”
I cut right to the chase. “Are you trying to set me up?”
“Who? Me? Not at all.” Yeah, this is the Clara I deal with daily, not the shy version from a few seconds ago.
I cock an eyebrow.
“Nate, come on. Last time you went out on a date was in Paris. Two months ago.”
Sometimes I can’t believe the conversations I’m having with my assistant.
“How would you know when I go out on dates?”
“I have access to your calendar, remember?” she asks devilishly. “Your reputation as a lady’s man is going down the drain.”
“How’s that a bad thing?”
It’s fantastic how much bad reputations stick. True, in college and during the early years of my career, I wasn’t a saint, but who is at that age? Later, as my work meant constant travel, I didn’t even bother pursuing a long-term relationship. What was the point? I was going from country to country in a matter of months, sometimes weeks.
“It’s not, but... You can’t just work all the time.”
“I do have a social life. I was at a party on Friday, and I met with old friends on Saturday.”
“Are any of those old friends a sexy lady you’d like to take out for dinner and whisper dirty things in her ear?”
You have no idea. I’d like to do much more. I’d like to take Alice home and do every dirty thing to her I imagined over the years. Out loud I just say, “Mind your own business.”
“But that’s so boring.”
I check the time on my phone, then stand up. “Luckily I have to leave to meet Horowitz. I’m going to put in a good word, even though you can be a pain in my ass.”
She smiles. “Thank you. I’m going to miss you, boss.”
***
“How do you like it?” Horowitz asks, waving an arm toward his office, welcoming me inside. “Was smaller last time you saw it.”
“Was it?” Looks like any executive office to me. Large glass desk with a black leather chair behind it. To the side, a couch and a coffee table.
“Yeah. Since they wouldn’t give me a bigger one, I took matters into my own hands and demolished the wall to the neighboring room.”
“Where did the person working in that room move?”
Horowitz shrugs. I’ll never understand why some people feel the need to measure their power in office size. The way I see it, it’s the grown-up version of measuring dicks.
His assistant strolls in, smiling at me and dropping some papers on his desk. Horowitz eyes her ass the entire time. Nearing his fifties, and with more belly than hair, Horowitz is the very definition of a sleazeball. Most women in the network avoid being alone with him. He’s not stupid enough to hit on them because he’d have a lawsuit on his hands, but he makes them uncomfortable.
“Why did you want to meet?” Horowitz asks after she leaves. He drops in his leather chair, prompting me to sit opposite him. I choose to stand. “Your contract for London hasn’t come through yet. Unless you changed your mind?”
“I haven’t changed my mind. I want to discuss two other things. One, my assistant, Clara, won’t be coming with me to London. I want to make sure she gets a good job within the network. She’s hardworking and an organizational talent. She took on a lot of producing responsibilities too, lately. She’ll be an asset to anyone.”
“Always looking out for your team, eh?”
“That’s who I am.”
“We’ll find her something. What was the second thing?”
“I have a recommendation for the Delicious Dining show.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s a restaurant that will open in two weeks, run by a brother and sister who have experience in the industry. It’s posh and focuses on local specialties.”
“Name?”
“Blue Moon. Run by Alice and Blake Bennett.”
“Any relation to Bennett Enterprises?”
“The founders’ siblings.”
“Isn’t Blake Bennett the playboy the tabloids loved to pick on? Not sure he’d be such a draw in viewership.”
I forgot how much of a pompous prick Horowitz could be.
“Do you have a severe case of memory loss, or are you trying to sweep under the rug that you were a trust fund playboy who only got his shit together when he was in his forties?” I ask. “Hypocritical much?”
Horowitz bursts out laughing, plunking his fist against the table. “Ah, you never pull punches, Nate. We need more people like you.”
Early on in my career, people warned me that my big mouth and no-filter attitude would stand in my way, but I was never one for brownnosing. I call it like I see it, even with people who sign my paychecks.
“Alice Bennett owns two other restaurants. They’ve been listed in the Top 10 locations in San Francisco many times.” I rattle off the names of the locations, and they get his attention.
“I’ve been to both. They are excellent.”
“You could spotlight those on the show too.” I launch my pitch, using all the information I got on Saturday. Whenever Horowitz raises an objection, I fight it. In my experience, when you want something, you have to push relentlessly. And I want this for Alice.
“This could turn out great.” Horowitz crosses his fingers on top of his head, leaning back in the leather chair. “I even saw Alice Bennett when I ate there. She’s one hot piece. How much does she want this feature? Enough to sleep with me?”
Just like that, I see red. “You so much as proposition her and you’re going to have a problem with me.”
Alice can hold her own against just about anything, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let her deal with this moron.
“Ah, you’re tapping that.”
“I’m not.” Walking right in front of his desk, I push my knuckles on the glass surface. He pushes his chair farther from the desk as if fearing I might grab him by the collar. “The Bennetts are old family friends of mine.”
“Your territory, got it.” He’s clearly intimidated. Good. He doesn’t make any more unprofessional remarks about Alice for the rest of the meeting.
My thoughts, on the other hand, are not professional at all. For years I’ve kept my fantasy in check when it comes to her, but after Saturday, there’s no going back. That wicked woman will be the death of me. Everything about her calls to me: her fire, her energy, her sassy and sinfully hot mouth. I almost kissed her on Saturday but stopped myself just in time. One kiss would never be enough, and seducing her is out of the question. She’s practically family, and I’m leaving.
Anything except helping her land a spot on the show is out of the question. Scratch that. I’ll add making her laugh to the list. And riling her up is just too much fun. It should be innocent enough. Unless it spirals out of control.
***
Alice
“Mark, table four is still waiting on their order. What’s going on?” I inquire, heading directly toward the chef, who is currently bent over the stove, frantically stirring in multiple pans at the same time.
“Sorry, Alice! Someone sent their order back and I had to redo it, so now I’m behind.”
I take one look at the sous-chefs around, and clearly not one of them is slacking. Tuesday is usually laid-back, but today, it’s a madhouse. Bending, I search in one of the supply closets where we stack fresh aprons. Throwing one over me, I step beside Mark. “Tell me what to do. Anything except chopping stuff.” I never could master the art of chopping anything at a reasonable speed, and after one too many incidents, which resulted in bloody fingers, I gave up.
Mark waves one hand in a dismissive gesture before stirring in a pan again. “Get out of here before your pretty dress starts stinking.”
“Mark, I’m the boss. Tell me what to do. We have unhappy customers out there waiting for their food.”
“Fine. Stir here continuously, and make sure you add cream in this one in four minutes.”
“See? Easy. I’m on it.”
“You’re micromanaging.”
“No, I’m taking care of the business.”
Ever since I opened the first restaurant, I became a jack of all trades, doing whatever has to be done. I personally greet guests and help out in the kitchen when it’s necessary. But I spend most of the time pursuing activities that bring us more customers, such as buying advertising and striking partnerships with tourist offices. Since opening the second restaurant, I rotate between locations. I’m not sure yet how I’ll manage once the third one opens, but at least Blake will be co-owning it. I’ll be able to rely on him.
***
At two o’ clock sharp, I step in the small backyard of the restaurant and dial my baby sister’s number. Summer is away in Italy, working at a museum. She’s a painter, and they have an excellent program there for young artists. I miss her terribly, which is silly because she visits often and we speak every other day at designated hours.
“Hi, Alice.” Just the sound of her voice makes me nostalgic. I swear, every time I speak to her I secretly hope she’ll say that she’ll cut her stay there short and return home.
“Hey, kid. How was the expo?”
As she launches into a detailed description, I can’t help feeling very proud of my sister. As a kid and even a teenager, she used to be shy with people outside our family, but once she found her calling in painting, she slowly broke out of her shell. She’s working hard, chasing opportunities and making the best out of them. I just wish I could see more of her.
I keep my ears peeled for any signs she might be in trouble. God, I’m such a pest, constantly worrying about her. When I think about my baby sister being in Rome, a million possible dangers spring to mind (not the least my sister falling for a hot Italian man and deciding to stay in Rome forever). I’m a closet mother hen.
“I still can’t believe I missed Mom’s birthday,” Summer finishes, regret dripping from her voice. The museum had an expo over the weekend, and she couldn’t take time off.
“Don’t worry, kid. She’ll have plenty more. You’ll be here for them.”
“Sooo… rumor has it Nate was at the party.”
“News travels fast.” I could try to brush the topic off because Summer isn’t the type who insists—at least not as much as Pippa—but the truth is I need someone to talk to and get it off my chest. In a few short sentences, I tell her about the conversation he and I had on Saturday.
“I knew it!” Summer exclaims. “Every time I’ve been in the same room with the two of you, I swear I saw sparks.”
“Well, the sparks aren’t helping our case.”
“Are you okay?”
“Of course, I’m a big girl. I’ll go for a run later on. Helps me clear my head.”
“Yuck! Sure you’re a Bennett? Who goes for a run voluntarily?”
I burst out laughing. “Can I tell you a dirty secret? I’m thinking of training for the marathon this year.”
“Ugh, stop right there or I’ll file a petition to have your family name changed.”
I’m the only girl in the family who runs, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one in the clan who likes it. I love it, actually. The more demanding I am with my body in terms of training, the better I can concentrate. Alas, my love for working out was born out of the necessity to balance my love for sweets. I blame my sister Pippa for this. It’s her legacy. Since I can remember, she instilled three values in me: always look after our family, don’t be ashamed of loving steamy romance books, and never say no to a cupcake.
“I’m a running junkie and proud of it!”
“Well, I’m going to become a gelato junkie soon. I swear the ice cream in Rome is the best ever.”
“Hey, we have great ice cream in San Francisco,” I counter, knowing full well it’s not as great as the gelato in Rome.
“Alice, your agenda to convince me to come home is becoming less subtle every time we talk.” Summer lets out a small laugh.
“What can I say? I miss you, kid. I promise to learn to make gelato like the Italians.”
“Oh, see? That’s my sister. Not the weirdo who wants to run the marathon. Crap, I have to go.”
“Sure. Take care, kid.”
“Oh, last thing. Go on a date. It’ll help getting Nate out of your system.”
“I’m seriously considering buying cats instead. Dating is so exhausting. Going out with so many incompatible people while hoping to find the one is like a less violent version of The Hunger Games.”
“Well, when you put it like that, cats sound like a better idea. Bye, Alice.”
After she clicks off, I wonder when I turned into such a big pile of mush. I blame it on so many of my siblings being engaged, married, or parents. Must have triggered my mushy gene.
Heading back inside, I’m mentally preparing to throw myself into work when my phone beeps with a message from Nate. We exchanged numbers on Saturday.
Nate: Talked to the head of the division yesterday, and I just received a questionnaire for you from the producing team. I’ll forward you the e-mail. They want more info, but they’re interested.
I jump up and down with joy, which garners curious looks from the crew. He e-mails me the questionnaire seconds later.
Alice: Got it, thank you. I really appreciate this, Nate.
Nate: You’re welcome. Any plans tonight? Time for a drink?
I stare at the screen, trying to read through the lines, and also to decide if a drink would be a good idea. Sure, we used to go for drinks and chat for hours whenever he was in town, but that was before.
Alice: Working. It’s very busy for a Tuesday.
Nate: Is this code for “Drinks aren’t a good idea”?
Alice: Not at all.
Nate: Immune to my charms already?
Alice: I move fast. You snooze, you lose.
The great part about written communication? No one can see my facial expression. Right now, I’m positively beaming.
Nate: Drinks shouldn’t be a problem, then. When do you have time?
Theoretically, owning my business means I can take time off whenever I want. Practically, I work nonstop. But Nate will leave in a few weeks, and who knows when I’ll see him again. Yes, things have changed, but I won’t allow that to overshadow the years of camaraderie and friendship.
Alice: Thursday in the evening sound good? The kitchen closes at ten o’clock.
Nate: Sure. I’ll pick you up.
Alice: I can come by cab.
Nate: You could, but then I’d go all caveman again convincing you. Bad idea.
This man! What is he thinking?
Alice: You’re a bad man, telling me things like this.
Nate: Hey, my ego’s still recovering from finding out you’re immune to my charms already.
Alice: Fine, pick me up. But you’re not allowed to overstep friendship boundaries the entire evening.
Nate: Promise.
As I tuck my phone away in my bag, focusing on helping Mark, I try hard not to acknowledge that the chances of Nate sticking to his word are zero. I try even harder not to admit I’m looking forward to him breaking his promise.