Chapter One #4
“You’re Reed Ryan,” Miles said, before the man could introduce himself.
He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized him the second he’d spotted him.
Xander worshipped the man something fierce, both for his incredible culinary expertise and also because he was seriously hot.
Miles had teased Xander more times than he could count about hanging a poster of Reed Ryan above his bed, and now he was here, in the flesh.
Xander was going to eat his heart out when he discovered who’d come to see Miles. He’d never mock Pastry by Miles ever again, not if the site drew Reed Ryan up to Napa.
“And you’re Miles.” Reed stood and offered a firm handshake. “Sit down.” He gestured to the glass. “Would you like some wine?”
Miles shook his head. “Sorry, but no, I’m on shift tonight.”
“Right, of course,” Reed said. “Well, I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked to meet with you.”
Miles was desperately curious. He knew Reed had closed his famous Chicago restaurant, Garnet, and had disappeared for a year or so, reappearing on the West Coast, but he couldn’t remember what it was that Reed was doing now.
Xander had certainly told him, probably more than once, but Miles blocked out most of the shit Xander said.
“I didn’t realize you’d opened another restaurant,” Miles said as Reed selected a chunk of brie and popped it in his mouth.
“I haven’t,” Reed said. “I’m the culinary producer at Five Points.” Five Points was a pop culture and sports website that had been recently branching into short culinary video series.
Miles now remembered all those rants Xander had subjected him to about Reed Ryan wasting all his talent by selling out.
“I’ve been following Pastry by Miles for awhile,” Reed continued, picking through the thinly sliced meats on the tray. “I had always planned to offer you a show on our site, but after the last forty-eight hours, I decided I’d better get up here and do it before someone else beat me to the punch.”
“A show on Five Points?” Miles asked skeptically. “You teach people how to bake bread out of melted ice cream. How to make edible cookie dough out of garbanzo beans. Pastry by Miles is a serious pastry blog.”
Reed shot Miles a very frank look. “I’m a serious chef, Mr. Costa.
I want to make a serious pastry show. Believe it or not, I have higher ambitions than teaching the masses how to make a dessert with three ingredients or less.
I want to teach them what good pastry is about.
And I think you’re exactly the person to do that. ”
Garnet had been legendary in the food scene.
It was hard to picture a Reed Ryan who didn’t take the culinary arts very seriously.
But there was still a whisper in the back of his head that he’d be selling out if he quit to film a show for Five Points.
He wouldn’t be able to come back to Terroir.
His job wouldn’t be waiting for him. Chef Aquino might let him go, but he’d never forgive Miles for moving on, no matter how unfair that might be.
“How much input would I have into the show?” Miles asked, because that, more than anything else, felt very important.
He wasn’t going to dumb down his ideas for anybody.
He wasn’t going to be subject to someone else’s vision, not if he was going to take the drastic step of walking away from employment at one of the very best restaurants in the world.
“There would be a producer. Me, maybe, or someone else. Maybe my assistant, Evan. I’ve been looking to promote him, and your show would be a great fit.
But the process at Five Points is collaborative.
” He paused. “I said it before, but I’ll say it again.
I don’t have any intention of dumbing down your skill.
I want something accessible, but elevated.
I want you to teach people about pastry. ”
When he’d begun Pastry by Miles, he’d wanted to share his creativity with people who weren’t just his roommates or his family. He’d wanted a way to express his vision without being constantly shut down.
“How long do I have to think about it?” Miles asked.
“As long as you need,” Reed said. “But I guarantee there will be others after me. That video was very good, Mr. Costa. I’ll email you over a sample contract with compensation attached. But everything is negotiable.”
“Thanks, I’ll be in touch,” Miles said, getting to his feet, his fingers already itching to check his email and see how much Reed was offering him to leave Terroir and everything familiar. “I’ve got to get back to my prep.”
If he detoured through the locker room and grabbed his phone to check his email, who could blame him?
He scrolled through Reed’s email, and his jaw dropped open at the offering bid for fifteen episodes.
That was two years of salary at Terroir, plus there were stipulations about housing and moving costs and additional bonuses if certain benchmarks were met.
Miles hadn’t gotten into the culinary business to make money—most chefs weren’t rich, or even close to rich, but he couldn’t deny the money held an attractive appeal.
Later, as he was making yet another tray of white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids, sure he would be dreaming about gold dust, Miles thought that the money paled in comparison to the opportunity to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
True creative vision. And extra bonus: no more white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids and no more gold dust.
Miles biked home because it was a gorgeous night—clear and with just the right amount of briskness in the air.
He couldn’t deny he was avoiding his friends because they’d try to talk him out of leaving.
Especially Xander, because he was the most vocal of the three—though Miles knew he’d get arguments from all of them.
They knew just how special finding a place at Terroir was, and then how much work and determination and thick skin went into staying there.
It wouldn’t be something they’d want him to give up lightly, but Miles realized as he pulled into the drive that he’d been ready to move on for awhile now.
Why else feel compelled to start Pastry by Miles at all?
He shouldn’t need to come home from a long, exhausting shift, and bake.
As far as Miles was concerned, he should feel creatively fulfilled at the position he’d worked his ass off for.
And if that wasn’t the case anymore, then he should move on. It was the right thing to do, Miles knew as he walked into the house, but it didn’t make telling his friends any easier.
It was after midnight, and they’d all worked at least ten hours today, but when he walked into the living room, Xander and Wyatt were on the couch, and Kian was sprawled next to them on the floor.
The TV was tuned to ESPN, which meant Wyatt had picked the channel, but when Miles walked in, he muted it.
Three sets of eyes swiveled his direction.
“So Reed Ryan came to see you today?” Xander’s statement was phrased like a question, but it wasn’t like Miles could deny it. He slumped into an old chair and let his bag fall to the floor.
“Yeah, he came to see me.”
Xander scooted to the edge of the couch. “And you didn’t come get me?”
“It wasn’t that kind of visit.” Miles hesitated and then continued before Xander could reload again. “Listen, I know you’re all going to try to talk me out of it, and that’s fine, but I’ve made up my mind. I’m giving my two weeks tomorrow.”
Xander and Wyatt didn’t look all that surprised, but Kian turned to him, accusation and dismay all over his delicate features.
“You’re really going to quit? I heard people talking, saying you might, and that’s why Reed Ryan came by, but I didn’t believe them.
I couldn’t believe them. Miles, you’ve more than earned your place at Terroir. ”
“I’ve earned it yeah, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”
Sacrilege, to admit he didn’t love every chef’s dream job, but it felt so good to finally say it out loud.
“You really mean that,” Wyatt said with disbelief. “It’s not the money? I was sure Ryan threw a bunch of money at you.”
He had, and maybe Miles should have used that reason, instead of the truth.
But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how all of them had been restricted and restrained by Chef Aquino’s iron-clad rule.
Every single one of them had their own point of view as a chef, and none of them were expressing it.
And Miles couldn’t help but think that was just sad.
“Someday, you’re going to understand, I promise,” he said.
Kian made a scoffing noise, and Wyatt rolled his eyes.
Xander didn’t say a word. Miles supposed he should be relieved that Xander was so unusually quiet, but Xander was also one of his best friends. And for someone who loved to argue and express all his opinions, all the time, the silence was sort of galling. Like Xander had already given up on him.
“I’m sorry I’m going to leave you without a fourth roommate,” Miles added, though he knew with the addition of Kian eight months ago, it wouldn’t be as tough of a financial hardship.
“We’ll manage,” Wyatt said.
Xander scowled, and Miles just couldn’t help himself. “Aren’t you even going to attempt to change my mind?” he asked, but Xander just shrugged.
“You’ve already made up your mind. It would be a waste of breath.”
Miles got to his feet. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, I’m wiped.” And he realized as he headed towards his room, that he’d only have two more weeks of waking up and heading into the restaurant with his friends.
On the flip side, he only had two more weeks of Chef René’s insultingly obvious questions and only two more weeks of white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids.