8. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
I Followed My Own Path
Luke
W hy is my family so interested in my love life? Does everyone think I need to settle down by the time I turn 30 in a couple months, or will a catastrophe occur? Like the world would end if I don’t get married and have kids as soon as possible. “Find a wife and have babies. I want to be a grandma while I can still have fun with them,” Mom says on repeat every time I see her. It sounds weird coming from her. They wonder why I don’t visit more often.
Jackson is all about finding a wife, having 2.5 kids and a big house with a white picket fence. Don’t get me wrong, I love my younger brother. He means more to me than anyone in this world. But I’m the ‘rebellious bachelor’ son that only visits a few times a year, even though I live less than an hour away, that everyone worries about. My brother and I may think differently about relationships, but we are more alike than we would usually admit.
While he appeases my mother with her constantly sticking her nose in our personal lives, I hear ‘Are you dating?’ and ‘I can introduce you to that nice girl at the church, you know, Lucy’s daughter. Didn’t you go to middle school with her?’ far more often from my mother’s meddling. Sometimes the pressure gets to be too much to bother engaging in any conversations with her. It doesn’t help that my parents act like we had the perfect childhood.
A tiny town outside Lancaster that I called home, where my parents still live, felt smaller than a shoebox to me. Getting out and moving to Charlotte was the best thing I could have done on my eighteenth birthday. I moved in with my mother’s hippie sister, Aunt Brenda, and her wife Grace. Working in their café in NoDa those first few years laid the foundation for where my career is today.
I always knew I didn’t want to be a police officer like most of my family were, going back generations. I was more at home in the kitchen than anywhere else growing up. I learned basic cooking skills from my Aunt Brenda but watching as many cooking shows as I could helped a lot. I was creating my own recipes around the time I entered high school. After a couple years, my dishes were always a success at the dinner table.
Food is a form of art. Feeding people is my love language. The only thing I want to do is create food that people will talk about. Nothing makes me happier than seeing people enjoy my dishes. Showing my parents, I can be successful doing something I love, rather than following in the family’s footsteps into the academy, will be a bonus. It’s like they bred us to be clones of them. When I didn’t fit in that box I was labeled the rebellious one.
Despite the disappointment that I was with my parents, I worked my way up in the city’s restaurants over the past 12 years. Fine-tuned my chef’s skills and learned the business side of running a restaurant from Brenda and Grace, along with friends I’ve made in the industry over the years. Taking those hospitality management classes at UNC helped me prepare to be a proper leader for my employees.
In less than three months, we open the doors to our first restaurant, Stonewood’s Steakhouse, in the heart of the city. The hippie aunts offered to invest half their savings and be silent partners, helping me fulfill this dream of mine. My best friend, Gabe, joining us in this three-way partnership. Getting a Small Business Loan to cover the rest of startup costs sealed the deal. I have been extremely focused on all things encompassing building a restaurant, I barely remember my name these days.
Tonight’s dilemma is my own fault. I agreed to go out with Jackson and our cousin, Dakota. They moved to the city about four years after I did, when they finished the academy together. The “good boys” that followed the family path set for them. If the family only knew what they got up to these days.
They are always trying to lure me out to sports bars with them. ‘Luke, this place has the best wings. You should come check them out,’ was one of their tactics last month, trying to appeal to the food lover in me. Those fuckers will find any excuse to get me to drink and pickup women with them.
Tonight’s excuse, Jackson said he needed me to be his wingman at a party Dakota heard about on some radio station. Apparently, Dakota is acting weird lately and hasn’t been the best wingman after having a few beers. It’s a lousy excuse since we are both blessed with Stonewood genes, giving us a sharp jawline, jade green eyes that are accentuated by our raven hair, and a towering 6’3” that often times alone attracts women. I’m not trying to be cocky, but neither of us have ever needed a wingman to pick up women. When I called him out on his shit, he fessed up calling me a grump because I have been working too hard and thinks I need to get laid. Well, he’s not wrong about that.
The problem is, fucking random women may be fun in the moment, but then what? Dating? Get married? I barely stick around long enough for them to find their bras on the floor. I always let them know beforehand what to expect. I’m not out here trying to be that asshole women complain about to their friends. I have enough respect for women to not lead them on.
I don’t need to get distracted by a relationship, right now. My restaurant is my relationship and making it a success is all I care about. Dating would take my focus away from that and I cannot let that happen. I’m fine with my right hand in between going out to find the occasional hook-up.
He thinks he’s slick, but I know Jackson is trying to please our mother by helping me find her a potential daughter-in-law. He thinks I’m lonely as much as she does.
So here I am, letting these two idiots convince me to go to some singles’ meetup with them, hoping I meet the ‘woman of my dreams.’ I’ll settle for someone to replace my hand for the night.