Chapter Two
Chef Nicholas
I collapse on the frilly couch in my swanky hotel suite, glad for this day to be over. Teaching has always been a passion of mine but instructing at a knock-off culinary school is a big step down from what I’m used to. Guess that happens when you get fired.
The popularity of the class surprised me. Every seat was filled a day after it was posted online. I feel a bit like a fraud, teaching a class about creating a scrumptious meal for your sweetheart, because come Valentine’s Day, I don’t have anyone special to cook for. My long-time girlfriend and I split up a couple months ago and I’m still stinging from the experience.
My agent encouraged me to take this gig until I can start over. This teaching job is a filler during the downtime before I open my new restaurant in Cold Spring, located in upstate New York. My friend and mentor, Chef Henri Armor, told me about an available property that would be perfect for a restaurant. It’s in an ideal location nestled near the quaint downtown–an area that is popular with tourists and as a weekend getaway for New York City residents. A few weeks ago, Henri and I toured the space with a female real estate agent. Despite the distraction of the woman hitting on me, we were able to see what the building had to offer, and I signed a lease on the spot.
Henri lives in the area, so he’s already met with a builder and has set our plans in motion. Even though he has retired, Henri is going to be my silent partner. He’s putting money into the business and his own special recipes will be featured on the menu.
I jump when the ringtone of my agent starts playing on my cell phone. Reluctantly, I pick up.
“Robert, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” My words come out sounding snide, just as I intended.
“Nick, Nick, you know I’d only call for an important reason. I have news about your settlement with Brenman’s.”
Standing from the couch, I pace the small sitting area, rubbing the knot at the back of my neck, anxious to get this conversation over with. The truth is I’m suing my former employer for breach of contract. The circumstances around my firing were covered in our agreement, so letting me go violated the terms of the contract. In addition, my reputation has been damaged, which has affected my other ventures.
“Well, what’s the news?” My agent is good at what he does, but I’m not very fond of him. When my career took off with cookbook deals, a Food Network program, and guest judging at various cooking festivals, I quickly realized the need for someone to negotiate contracts and oversee the many agreements. Robert came highly recommended as being the biggest shark swimming in a sea of sharks. So, I hired him. Grudgingly, I admit he’s gotten me several great deals, so I tolerate him.
“They’re settling with you and paying you the remainder of your contract.”
I sigh in relief. I had a very lucrative contract with Brenman’s and losing that was going to hurt me financially. A lot.
“They’re also going to put out a press release stating that you have amicably parted ways. Wish you good luck on your next exciting venture. Blah Blah Blah. Obviously, I’ll review the statement before it’s published.”
“Do you think this will slow the tide of gossip among the foodies that I was fired?”
“Probably. Although, your blow-up with head waiter Francois was overheard by several other staff members and we can’t keep them from talking. An official statement from the restaurant will definitely help. The Food Network execs are pleased about the press release, so there’s that.”
Time will tell if my unexpected departure, or firing, from Brenman’s damages my reputation long term, in addition to my new upstate New York venture.
“When will the statement be released?”
“Tomorrow. You’ll finally have this rough patch behind you.”
I grunt. The rough patch, as he calls it, is not over. Rumor is that the head waiter is going to sue me for damage to his reputation, so the situation is far from resolved.
“Thanks Robert. I’d like to read that statement before it goes out.”
“I’ll email it over as soon as I have it.”
We hang up.
Slumping back on the sofa, I turn on the TV hoping some mindless program will fill the quiet room and keep me occupied for a few hours. After some channel surfing, I settle on a rerun of The Great British Bake Off . This will be good for a couple laughs.
Determined not to dwell any further on the incident in New Orleans, I vow to focus on getting the new restaurant up and going. Also, the cookbook I’m doing with several celebrity athletes comes out in a few months, recipes focused on nutritional ingredients and healthy cooking techniques. I’ll be busy reviewing final proofs for several weeks. My Food Network program starts filming again in the summer—another pleasant diversion.
There’s also the distraction of teaching the cooking course for the next several weeks. If I remember correctly, it’s titled Cooking Your Way into his Heart or some such drivel like that. Remembering the beautiful brunette in the class, I smile. She caught my eye from the moment I stepped into the classroom. Shoulder length brunette hair, lush curves, and a killer smile. She’s gorgeous, but hands down, she’s the worst student in the class. I chuckle at the irony.
Despite her lack of culinary skills, I’m attracted to her. Does she have a sweetheart that she’s going to be cooking the class menu for? I hope not. The flirting we did was fun; definitely something I’ll look forward to continuing in the next class. What kind of cooking catastrophe will she create during the entrée course? Next Tuesday can’t come soon enough.