GiGi

Later that week, the tourist crowds died down. The locals were coming back out of the woodwork, but slowly. Things were kind of quiet. On the one hand, it wasn’t good for GiGi’s ledger, but on the other hand, it gave her time to map out the wedding cake for Rosie and Ash.

They had both agreed to let her brainstorm ideas on her own, and then meet with them next week to tweak those ideas.

She sat in the half-empty dining room on a Friday afternoon with a Sharpie and some construction paper. She didn’t know why, she liked to draw out her pastry ideas this way. The staff bustled around her getting ready to open for dinner in two hours.

GiGi was finishing a sketch of a cake in the shape of Bourbon Street, with the street and buildings made of cake, and a little parade down the middle with molded chocolate people and musicians made of molded gilt chocolate. At the end of the parade would be the bride and groom, tiny representations of Rosemary and Ash, if she could manage that much detail. GiGi tapped her Sharpie to her lip when thinking about the things that would put it over the top. The street should look like brick. There should be the iron balcony railings made out of sugar-work. Ivy and floral vines draping down from the balconies. That would be tough, but GiGi was an expert flower sculptor.

As she looked up to gaze out the window in thought, who should walk by but Thor. Not the actual Avenger, of course, but Vann West and his flowing golden locks. And then he was stopping. Oh shit. And then he was looking through the glass, shielding the glare of the afternoon sun from his eyes with his hands. Shit, shit, shit. She had a mind to dart into the back office at the sight of him, but he had spotted her. It was too late.

He tried the door, but of course it was locked. She breathed in nervously as she rose to let him in. She could feel his eyes on her through the plate glass window as she walked.

“Hi,” she said, cracking the door open and letting him come in.

“Hi,” he said, smiling broadly at her. Damn him and those amazing white teeth, shocking blue eyes that seemed oddly familiar.

“Can I help you?”

“I have a proposal for you,” he said, stepping inside, his massive chest accidentally grazing her breasts.

She blushed and grinned stupidly as she locked the door again. “It’s a little early in the relationship for that, don’t you think? We haven’t even been on a date yet.”

“Well,” he said, “I meant a business proposal. I feel like an asshole about stealing the DuChamps-Boudreaux wedding out from under you. I know that would mean a huge payday for you. So how about I contract with your people. I pay them what I pay my people, I pay you what I pay my executive chefs. You won’t even have to do any work, you could just be a consultant for this gig.”

GiGI narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Having the upper hand.”

“Not at all, I came here to extend an olive branch. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other and I don’t want there to be awkwardness between us.”

She looked him up and down. He was wearing tight Levis and black Chuck Taylors. His hair was down, brazenly flowing over his giant biceps like he knew exactly how good he looked. His black Misfits T-shirt was too tight to be legal. Was he really expecting anyone to believe he was into that band? He’d probably had a personal assistant pick that up from Urban Outfitters or something.

Still, she couldn’t help but smile at that bad-boy grin on him. And he was right; they needed to clear the air. But she wasn’t going along with his terms. “You can keep the menu. I’ll handle the cake. Like we agreed last night. Frankly, I’m relieved that it’s all I have to focus on, so maybe then I can try to enjoy myself a little. It is my best friend’s wedding, after all.”

“OK, great. If that’s the way you feel,” he said.

“It is. And anyway, I wouldn’t want anybody else’s staff working on the cake.”

“You don't trust me?”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I heard what you said on that Foodie Network contest. During the pastry challenge, you said something about baking and desserts are for the lightweights and for people who can’t handle the rowdy crowds who work in the kitchen. You don’t have a love for flour, butter and sugar, then I don’t want you or any of your people touching that cake. Desserts are about love. Especially a wedding cake. I’m afraid there would be bad juju in the cake if it wasn’t made with a whole heart. It sounds kooky, but that’s how I feel.”

“Fair enough.” He hesitated. “I mean, I was heavily edited on that show, but OK. You got me.”

“Anything else I can help you with?” She was eyeing her work table and was itching to get back to her Sharpie and paper.

“Yeah, actually. I came here also to ask you on a date.”

So he was serious about that?

She must have looked surprised because he continued, “I did have a little too much to drink last night and I kind of spilled my guts. Hope I didn’t scare you off.”

GiGi thought about that. A dude who is basically living the life she wants to live and looks like Thor and compliments her food and stalks her on Facebook…when she has no life? How in the world would she be scared off by any of that?

“Sunday. We close after brunch. My days off are Monday and Tuesday, in case you’ve forgotten what restaurant workers’ schedules are like,” she said with a wink.

“I’ll pick you up Sunday afternoon. And wear something sexy. I want you out of those work clothes,” he said, scanning her crew shoes, black pants and ratty chef coat.

“I don’t own anything sexy so I’ll just have to show up naked under a trench coat if that’s all right with you,” she replied.

“Suits me fine. I’ll supply the whipped cream.”

“Better be homemade and made with love, TV Man.”

* * *

GiGi had no time to go shopping between Friday and Sunday, so Rosemary came to the restaurant to help GiGi pick through some of her clothes.

Rosemary waited in GiGi’s office while GiGi showered. Fortunately, there was a shower stall in the ladies employee restroom, from when the building used to be a boarding house of dubious repute. This might have been only a legend, but in New Orleans, anything was possible.

When she finished showering, Rosemary was waiting in her office holding up a light blue sheath dress with spaghetti straps.

“I don’t know…it’s awfully revealing,” GiGi said.

“GiGi, it has all the important bits covered. Plus, I have a feeling that dress ain’t staying on your body for long.” Rosemary winked at her.

“Rosie! You are nothing but trouble!” GiGi said, feigning scandal.

“Says you and everybody’s mama between here and Shreveport. Now put it on and let’s see what we got,” Rosemary said. “I am over-the-moon excited for you to be going on a date, let alone with a celebrity!”

GiGi rolled her eyes while Rosemary clucked at her and applied winged eyeliner. “Girl, will you hold still, I’m ’bout to stab you in the eyeball with this thing.”

“Sorry, Rosie,” GiGi said.

“So, listen,” Rosemary said, “There are things you need to know about Vann.”

GiGi chuckled. “Doesn’t everyone in the world already know everything about him? His re-runs are never not showing on the Foodie Network.”

“Well, it’s personal stuff. It’s not a big deal and he should tell you himself. He’s not a one-night stand kind of guy. He’s a lot like my Ash.”

GiGi blinked. “Who is having a one night stand? It’s our first date, we barely know each other, and also I’m pretty much still a virgin, so…”

Rosemary looked concerned. “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea. If he tries to bed you, it’s a big deal.”

“Well, it’s a big deal to me, too. Listen, dating is supposed to be fun; you’re making it so intense. I always thought you were the fun cousin.”

Rosemary playfully slapped her on the knee and picked up an eyebrow pencil. “And don’t you forget it! I’m just beating around the bush, and I’m sorry. Maybe I should just go ahead and tell you.”

“Tell me what?” GiGi asked, eyes bugging at her cousin and best friend.

But before GiGi could get an answer, the blue-eyed, blond-haired massive rock star chef was darkening the door of her office.