Chapter Twenty

Carter

For a moment, a charged hush hangs in the air as Pepper stalks off stage. The small but still razor-sharp paring knife clatters to the ground – mere inches away from my feet – and I feel rooted to the spot.

Barb turns to me, her smile like something out of a horror movie.

Then the audience starts laughing and cheering. Holy shit, I think as I squint into the bright lights. They all think this is scripted. And they love it.

“Thank you all so much for watching,” Barb says, waving goodbye. “Until next time, this has been Battle of the Land and Sea. Be sure to tell all your friends about the show. And post to your favorite social media.”

She turns to the camera operators and draws a finger across her neck, grimacing. Little does she know how close that was to the actual outcome of this little venture. The cameras stop rolling, and the bright lights fade.

“Carter, come with me,” Barb says, still sounding upbeat and happy. “We should talk off-stage.”

I’m not sure what exactly is left to say. She takes me by the arm with a firm grip and practically drags me off set. As soon as we’re in the hall and the door is closed, Barb turns to me with a look of horror.

“What did you do?” Barb demands.

“I didn’t do anything. I was just standing there,” I say, raking a hand through my hair. I can’t believe the second woman in the space of a few tense minutes is hurling unfounded accusations at me. “Pepper’s the one who went batshit.”

Now that I’m off set, reality begins to sink in. Pepper St. Claire just threw a goddamned knife at my head – has she lost her fucking marbles? Mad or not, you don’t have a fit of temper on national television.

Barb sighs. “Look, whatever the two of you have boiled up, pun intended, you’re going to have to tone it down. You need to have a meeting and agree to keep things professional, do you understand?”

I close my eyes and lean against the wall. Right now, the last thing I want to do is meet with Pepper. Hell, I’d rather go skydiving into an ocean filled with sharks. But I know that if I don’t, the show will go belly-up…and my possible breakout will follow. Besides, Pepper still doesn’t know the truth about the skunks. I was dying to tell her before the show, but somehow, I couldn’t find the right words.

Now I realize I’m going to have to find them, or else she’ll be serving my severed head on the next plate she presents for judging.

“Okay,” I say.

“A little rivalry is good, but we can’t have incidents like that on stage happen again,” Barb snaps, her trademark smile gone in a flash. “That is a huge liability for the network. Imagine what would have happened if the knife had gone into the audience.”

I cringe. “Yeah.” Or into my skull, I add silently.

“I’m going to set a meeting in the hotel bar for the two of you,” Barb says. “At seven this evening. You need to be there, and by god, I don’t care what you say to her, but you’d damn well better make this right.”

“She threw a knife at me,” I argue. “I’m not sure why I’m getting the lecture. And just what on earth makes you think she’s going to agree to more amicable terms?”

“I don’t know,” Barb snaps. “But you’d better make sure she does. I’m not having another incident like this – if anything even remotely like that happens again, the show will be canceled before we’re done taping the second episode.”

“Right,” I say, capitulating. “I’ll make it right.”

Barb sets a meeting for us and tells me to go back to the hotel to shower and change. I’m exhausted – the crazy schedule is starting to catch up with me – but I can’t take a nap, no matter how much I toss and turn around on the hotel mattress. At ten to seven, I put on a clean shirt and push my hair back from my forehead. Here goes nothing, I think to myself as I leave my room and slip the key in my pocket.

I just hope I make it out alive.

When I get down to the bar, I see Pepper sitting alone at a high-topped table. There’s a drink in front of her, but it looks untouched. Her shoulders are slumped, and her hair is knotted into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She’s as beautiful as ever, but something’s off. She’s lost her normal luster.

“Hey,” I say, climbing onto the high stool.

Pepper pales as she grips her drink until her knuckles turn white. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” she says, frost dripping from every word. “Barb said I would just be meeting with her.”

I sigh, because this is going off track before I’ve gotten a chance to apologize. “Look, Pepper, I swear it wasn’t my fault about your tuna/horse/Cody thing – I’d never do that.”

“And why should I believe you?” Pepper snaps. “You were being so nice to me too. It’s like you were softening me so the blow would be more painful.” She shakes her head, and a tendril of hair falls across her slender shoulder. My fingers itch to pick it up and put it back in place. But I inherently know I can’t touch her. “I thought it was because you’d changed.”

“Pepper, stop,” I say in a low voice. The other people in the bar have begun staring at us, and not that I care, but I don’t want another scene. Nervously, I look around for any rogue knives. Or olive picks. It’s all fun and games until somebody loses an eye.

“Why should I?” She crosses her narrow arms over her chest and glares. “You’re obviously out to get me.”

“I know it wasn’t you who sent those skunks to Steakhouse,” I say in a rush to calm the escalation. “I wanted to tell you before the show, but there wasn’t time. I’m sorry that I exploded at you. It was uncalled for, and I’m really, really sorry. You didn’t deserve that, and I was a hotheaded prick.”

Pepper blinks at me, her mouth wide open to rail at me again. She clamps it shut.

“I’m serious,” I say. “I had my brother, Reagan, look into it. He’s a lawyer, and he found out that the skunks were shipped from a warehouse owned by your boss, Dante Giovanetti.”

Pepper blinks again then narrows her eyes. “Dante? Like, Dante who owns the Mona Lisa? And…Sakana?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Can I have some of that?”

Pepper slides her drink across the table to me, and I take a huge gulp. “Thanks,” I mutter, passing it back. “I needed some liquid courage.”

Pepper looks uncertain. “Carter, why would Dante go after your restaurant like that? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s a long story.”

Pepper presses her lips together until they turn white. Then she signals to a waiter and points to her drink, then gestures to me. As soon as the waiter brings over two more cocktails, Pepper takes a long sip.

“I’ve got time,” she says, taking another draught from her vodka martini. “After all, I assume the Food Network is going to cancel the show after the way I acted today.”

I shake my head, trying to put her at ease. “They won’t, but Barb told me that we have to clean it up – no more ‘incidents,’ as she put it,” I add, making finger quotes in the air. “She said a little friendly rivalry is good – but there’s no way we can keep throwing knives and expect the show to go on. Maybe a shrimp or two would be okay, though.”

Pepper cracks a hint of a smile, and I lean back, feeling a little bit more relaxed.

“So,” Pepper says, taking another sip of her drink. “What’s the story behind you and Dante? Why does he hate you so much?”

Now it’s my turn to drink. Taking a long swig, I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. “Like I said, it’s a long story…a story that’s been going on since I was a kid.”

Pepper looks confused.

“Dante’s tried every trick in the book to bring my family down. Nixon hates him because he’s responsible for my dad’s suicide. Dante hates Nixon for breathing. You know…that kind of thing,” I say, trying to articulate the unexplainable. “Recently, he tried to sabotage my brother’s charity fashion show for Helping Hearts and Hands – he sent a portable toilet truck into the designer clothes. Then, he perpetuated a naked old lady porn fest on my brother Ford’s computer during an important meeting with Microsoft.”

Pepper gasps and covers her mouth with both hands. “That’s disgusting,” she declares. “Why would he do something like that? Helping Hearts and Hands is a charity,” she adds in a disgusted tone. “A charity for disabled children.”

“Yeah, I know. And he sent all of those skunks to my restaurant.” I sigh and roll my eyes. “I was such an idiot – I should’ve known it was him. But you and I had been at odds, and I guess…well, I should have known better. I’m so sorry.”

“I accept your apology. But I still don’t really understand why Dante would do such a thing?”

“A long time ago, my father and Dante had a beef. My dad owned an up and coming casino in direct competition with the bastard. In the old Italian way, he wanted to eliminate all his rivals who might stunt his meteoric rise to the top. It’s why Nixon’s worked day and night to bring the Armónico to its present glory. Dante kept blackmailing my father and threatening to hurt his family. You know my brother, Lincoln, who has cerebral palsy?”

“Well, not personally,” Pepper says. “But yeah, I know the charity was started in his honor.”

“Right. Well, our mother died giving birth to Lincoln, and Dante had the nerve to show up at the funeral. My father went on a tirade, and Dante got really offended…even though he had no business being there outside of being disrespectful. That was when the blackmail started. Dante kept telling my father that unless he handed over massive amounts of money as a use tax, he’d do harm to us boys.”

Pepper’s face goes slack with horror. “Oh, my god,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s like something out of Goodfellas.” Pepper reaches across the table and puts her hand on mine. “I can’t imagine that. It’s all so despicable.”

“And my father killed himself.” I can feel the anger creeping into my voice, and I try to squash it, but it’s like a hot rush that fills my whole body. “Leaving five boys without either parent. Nixon stepped in, but he was just as damaged and broken as the rest of us. It’s a miracle we’ve all become successful in our chosen fields. Dante effectively murdered my father. His selfishness and greed ruined my family. The end.”

Tears fill Pepper’s eyes. “Oh, Carter,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. I am too. I’m sorry about Dante, but I’m really sorry about not believing you.”

She swipes a lone tear away. “What else has he done? Do you know?”

“That I know of?” I shrug. “I don’t know. There are always suspicions but rarely proof.” Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. I remember a few weeks ago, back when the Michelin star judges were visiting Steakhouse. “And you know, I can’t be sure, but I’m pretty sure that he ruined a dessert I served to the Michelin critics. When Claude brought it out, it exploded. The sparklers we usually use had been replaced by roman candles. I always thought it was another chef in Vegas, you know how competitive we are…but looking back, it couldn’t have been anyone but Dante. At the time, I was distracted by kissing my stars goodbye.”

Pepper’s jaw drops. “That bastard,” she mutters. “I can’t believe it. He’s always been so nice to me. So generous.”

“It’s not about what he can do for you in the long run, but what you can do for him. You do a lot for him with Sakana. That’s probably why he’s stayed off your back.”

Pepper frowns, and I want to lick the creases in her delicate forehead. Actually, I want to lick her entire body. I imagine pouring a tiny cascade of her martini into her navel and sucking it out.

“You know,” she says, then narrows her eyes, looking past me.

“What?”

“That’s the man who dropped my tower today.” She slides off her stool. “Wait here. I want to say something to him.” I stand up to go with her, but she holds up a finger. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I watch her fine ass walk away, hurrying to catch up with the young man. He pushes through a door, a phone to his ear. Through the glass, I see Pepper stop, almost like she’s frozen to the sidewalk. Then her fists tighten at her side, and she takes another step toward the young man’s back before whirling around and marching back inside, her face pale.

I’m still on my feet when she reaches me. “What happened?”

She picks her drink up from the table and downs it, sinking down into her seat. “You’re right.”

I blink. “Right about what? What happened?”

“Dante was responsible for what happened on the show today. I overheard the kid talking on the phone telling someone about how realistic his fall had looked. He said, ‘thanks, Uncle Dante.’”

I wish I could be surprised. “I’m sorry. I know he’s powerful, but I never dreamed he could reach this far.”

Pepper shakes her head. “Yeah, I know.”

“Why would he want to hurt you? Doesn’t your restaurant make a killing in the Mona Lisa? Bringing fish lovers from far and wide?”

Pepper still shakes her head as she pieces it all together. “Yeah, but that’s exactly the point. If I succeed out here, he knows I’ll eventually leave Sakana and move on…maybe even open my own restaurant. And I’m willing to bet that there’s no way Dante wants that. He seems to want to keep control, keep everyone and everything under his iron thumb.”

“Damn,” I say. “Yeah, well, I can’t lie – you make a good point.”

“I wish I were wrong,” she mutters under her breath. “It’s psycho that he would try to ruin me – I work for him. We’re in it together. Or so I thought.”

“Are you going to keep working for him?” I narrow my eyes and lean in close. “I mean, you can’t tell me that you’ll be happy going back there, now that you know.”

Pepper licks her lips, and I stare at her tongue. “There’s no way I want to keep working with Dante. I’ll never be able to forget what you’ve told me. What I now know.”

“Yeah.” I drum my fingers on the table. “He’s going to lose his shit when you tell him you’re quitting.”

“Carter, will you be honest with me?”

I lean forward. “Of course.”

“If you were in my shoes, would you do the same thing? I mean, there are so many great people at Sakana who are counting on me to lead them…and it kills me to think about letting them down. But if Dante is as evil it appears, there’s no way I can ethically keep working for someone like that and lining his crooked pockets night after night.” She props her elbows up on the table and rests her chin in her hands. “Working at Sakana is my everything, but I’m sure I can find something else. After my Michelin rating, I’ll be able to find another head chef’s position in Vegas. Or anywhere, really. Maybe even here in L.A.”

I think about it for a moment. Steakhouse is my life – but I’m well aware that I’m lucky enough to head a restaurant technically owned by my brother. Nixon wouldn’t ever do anything to bring me down.

Reaching across the table, I take Pepper’s hand in mine. “Yeah, I’d definitely do the same thing.”

Pepper smiles and looks more relaxed. “That means a lot.”