Chapter Three

Pepper

“I can’t believe it went so well,” I say to Basil, closing my eyes and taking a long sip of rosé. After the day I’ve had, it tastes like manna from heaven. “I thought Cody was going to lasso everything straight into the shitter.” I shake my head, thinking of my fun-loving but unsophisticated brother. We don’t even have a fine dining restaurant back in our hometown. “But three stars? I can’t believe it! We’re the only restaurant in Vegas with that high of a rating. I have to pinch myself because I must be dreaming.”

“Girlfriend, you earned those three stars.” Basil leans in to plant a sloppy wet one on my cheek. “You never told me your fuck-up of a brother was such a stunner. He’s a stone-cold fox.”

“He’s not a fuck-up.” I push my hand through my hair. “He’s just…well, he’s like the rest of my family, you know.”

“God, guns, and git-r-done?” Basil smiles at his own joke.

I burst out laughing. “Basically.” I drain the rest of my wine. “You should have heard them all when I told them I was opening a restaurant that served nothing but seafood.”

“If y’all weren’t supposed to eat beef, then God wouldn’t have put any gosh dang cows on His green earth!” Basil drawls in an exaggerated accent, making me nod enough to egg him on. Let’s just say my folks wouldn’t understand Basil and our friendship. Basil’s my BMF.

“Basically.” I think back to my childhood. Even though I know how much my parents love me, they just don’t get me. And that’s tough. It makes for a lot of lonely, sleepless nights where I wonder if I’ll ever have someone in my life who loves me unconditionally. Not in spite of my passion for being a chef but because of it. “My parents have always been farmers. You know, the real salt of the earth types – they don’t get that watching animals brought up for slaughter makes me sad and goes against my personal values.”

“Fish don’t have feelings,” Basil says. He reaches for the bottle of wine and pours me another healthy glass, then tops off his own glass and takes a sip. “At least, that’s what I think when I’m filleting.”

Just as I’m about to reply, my phone buzzes on the table. “Sorry,” I mouth to Basil. “This should be quick.”

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’m calling for Pepper St. Claire,” a pleasant female voice says.

I clear my throat. “This is she.”

“Good. Pepper, my name’s Robin, and I’m from the Food Network. I’m calling to let you know about a new show we’re producing for our exciting new season. I can’t tell you too many details yet, but it’s going to be very hot, and it’s an exceptional opportunity for unique chefs with mass appeal.”

I feel my eyes bulging out of my head. Basil stares and mouths ‘what?’ but I wave my hand in the air to shut him up.

“Wow…” I lick my suddenly dry lips. “That does sound very exciting.”

“It is,” the woman replies. “Pepper, I’m calling because I wanted to know if you’d be interested in auditioning. We’ve heard great things about Sakana, and I’m sure you’d bring a lot of energy and fun to the show.”

“Oh, my goodness.” I’m practically vibrating now. “Yes! I would love that.”

“Wonderful,” Robin replies. “I’m so glad to hear it. This will be a cooking competition show. I’m afraid that, right now, that’s all I can tell you.”

I take a ragged inhale and begin scribbling down the address I’m given and the other particulars about the audition.

“Do you have any questions?”

“A lot,” I say with a laugh. “But I’m sure I’ll find everything out in time.”

“Of course,” Robin answers, her tone warm. “Pepper, it was wonderful talking to you. I speak for everyone at the Food Network when I say that we’re looking forward to working with you.”

“Thank you. This is an incredible opportunity.”

We say a brief goodbye, and then I hang up. I can barely keep from squealing, and I look at Basil and wave my hands in the air. I’m probably turning blue due to my lack of oxygen. I feel like I should breathe into a bag. Damn, this day couldn’t get any better.

“Dish,” Basil says, reaching for his rosé. “What happened?”

“An audition, for the Food Network,” I babble, mind racing with thoughts of my own show where I can teach viewers how to make all my signature dishes. Viewers who will care about their health, and animal rights. My very own tribe. “It’s so exciting, I can hardly stand it! Basil, what if I get my very own show?”

“Well done,” Basil says, clapping. “I just hope you won’t be working with Antonia Benedetti.” He tosses his head. “Now put the leeengweeeeny in zee pot, and stair!”

I burst out laughing at his goofy impression. “I wouldn’t mind. At this point, I’d work with anyone. Including you.”

Basil eyes me. “You’d mind her,” he says. “She’s all show and no substance. You, well…you’re something special, Pepper. You’ve got raving beauty and mad talent to back it up. You’re the real deal in cuisine.”

I feel my cheeks grow hot. It’s not often that Basil gives me a sincere compliment. We’ve been best friends for years, and he’s a dream to work with, but most of our relationship is drinking wine and bitching about guys. Or rather, listening to Basil bitch about guys. When he’s not working in my kitchen, he’s the fabulous Ivory Crème, one of Vegas’s most famous drag performers. I have to admit it; his life is fabulous, and I live vicariously.

“Thank you,” I say, shifting. Talking about myself makes me more uncomfortable than I care to admit. “So, what’s new with you?”

“Oh, god, honey, there ain’t enough wine in the world to get through it,” Basil snips, tossing his head and making eyes at me.

I smirk at him. “Try.” I imagine his latest tale about love gone wrong with his latest boy toy. His groupies are legendary. And so are his one-night stands with them. I’ve never had a one-nighter. “Your life is so much more interesting than mine.”

Basil laughs and wags a finger. “That is not true. You’re a fabulous Vegas chef, and what am I?”

“A really fabulous Vegas chef,” I say, mimicking Basil’s mincing tone.

“Yes.” Basil preens and flutters his eyelashes at me. “Well, at least that’s what little miss thang thought after the show last night.”

I raise an eyebrow because it’s about to get good. “Go on.”

As Basil launches into a story about a prima donna drag queen, I can’t help but let my mind wander. It’s only been a week since the Michelin critics were at Sakana, and since then I’ve picked up three Michelin stars and an audition on the Food Network. My dreams are within arm’s reach, and now all I have to do is snag them and reel them in like my fresh catch of the day.

I bet Dante’s going to be thrilled. As a boss, he’s usually pretty hands-off and respectful, but when he sets his mind to something, he’s like a dog with a T-bone.

“Hello,” Basil says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “You even listening? I’m talking about heartbreak over here, you know.”

“Sorry.” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m spacing a little bit. I can’t help it – this day is just really exciting.”

Basil nods, and I can tell he’s not annoyed. “If I were you, I’d be running down the street singing Diana Ross.” He gives me a bestie grin. “You should be proud, girlfriend. You’re about to become a superstar, and I’ll be the one flying high on your chef’s jacket.”

I knead my bottom lip with my teeth, strategizing about how I’ll make it all come together just the way I want it to. “Thank you. I never thought I’d get where I am today.”

“But you did.” Basil clinks his glass against mine and takes a long drink. “And you earned it, Miss Pepper Pants.”

A smile spreads across my face, and my cheeks burn. “I guess I did,” I say, liking the taste of the words in my mouth. “Damn straight I did.”