5. Hayden
5
HAYDEN
“ T here are so many people here.”
Liam looked over at me and shrugged. “This is Providence. Home of the rubberneckers. Most of these people are probably just here because their private chefs called in sick or their tennis coaches said it was too cold to practice tonight. They aren’t here to buy. They’re here to socialize and get the gossip on who the new owner might be.”
I cringed at the thought of these people judging me. “They’re gonna be real fucking disappointed when they realize it’s a piece of shit loser from Saint View.”
Liam thumped me on the back. “That’s the spirit!”
I raised an eyebrow.
He grinned with the same snigger I remembered from when we were kids. “The spirit of you being the new owner, I mean. Not you being a piece of shit loser.” He squinted at me. “Do you need Mae to give you one of her kindergarten teacher pep talks? She’s been working at the prison for so long those pep talks are pretty much the only thing she has left from her time in grade school.”
“No,” I scoffed. But the thumping of my heart and my clammy palms said otherwise. “Actually, maybe yes? I’m shitting myself here.”
Liam slung his arm around my shoulders. “Look around. You have nothing to worry about. This place was always supposed to be yours.”
When he said it, his voice so full of confidence, I believed it. The space was even better in person than it was in photos. It was twice as big as I’d thought from the online listing, which had my brain ticking overtime with what I could do with the extra space. Maybe a cocktail bar. More seating. A larger kitchen area. I swallowed down my excitement. “What if we bid on this today and the bank says no?”
“They won’t. My guy says with me as your silent partner, we’ll get approved for a mil, no sweat.”
I wiped my palms on my jeans. This was all happening so fast. Just last night I’d been resigned to at least five more years of working in Simon’s kitchen, stashing every penny away until I had enough money for the deposit. And then in one day, my brother had changed everything.
I didn’t let myself think past the auction. Or the fact getting a mortgage for this place was just one part of the problem. Liam’s good credit rating might seal the deal with the bank, but it was me and the restaurant I’d create inside these four walls that would have to make the payments each month.
Those sorts of thoughts clearly weren’t plaguing my brother though. And why would they? He’d never lived paycheck to paycheck. Not since his grandfather had plucked him from our shitty little house in Saint View and raised him like a son anyway.
“When this auctioneer opens things, go in hard and confident. Fuck all the Providence snobs. Let them know you’re here, and you mean business.” Liam leaned over and tapped a woman on the shoulder.
When she turned, he flashed his phone at her. “My brother is buying this place. This is his Instagram, @ChaosKitchenSaintView, and the food you and your friends will soon be eating. Spread the word.”
The woman looked confused, and I couldn’t blame her. I grabbed my brother’s arm and towed him across the room where the real estate agent was taking registrations.
“You gotta stop that,” I mumbled at Liam as we waited in line. “I can’t use that Instagram if I’m opening a restaurant in Providence, and besides that, you’re embarrassing me.”
Liam gave an overexaggerated groan. “You have to sell yourself, little brother! Do I need to hire a marketing firm to pimp this place out?”
I swallowed thickly. “I just want to cook good food that people like. And make an honest living. I don’t want to be shoving my Instagram posts down some random lady’s throat.”
We both looked over at the woman Liam had accosted. She was busy talking to two others, all three of them shooting not-so-secretive glances my way.
When they noticed us watching, one broke away from the group and strode over, holding out her hand to me and staring me up and down with an appraising eye. “ Pamela Lexington. My friend just told me you’re bidding on this place?”
Liam elbowed me, and I started, taking the woman’s hand and shaking it. “Hey, yeah.” Fuck, I was so awkward. When had I become like this? I used to be full of swagger with a confidence that rivalled Liam’s.
It had all been for show, a voice whispered in my head . That was never you and you know it. What you did to Kara and her friends fucked you up so bad you—
I cut it off, my skin crawling at the thought of Kara and the other women held captive with her.
I wasn’t that man anymore.
I cleared my throat and tried again. Pamela was attractive for an older woman. She probably had twenty years on my twenty-nine, but she was well-dressed, her hair neatly brushed, makeup expertly applied. I would have put money on the fact she was a bored Providence housewife. But that meant she knew people. Had friends who would talk. Like Liam said, these people were not necessarily here to bid but to gossip.
I needed to be able to market this place, and maybe that started now. I cleared my throat. “Hayden Whitling. It’s nice to meet you. I’m looking forward to bringing you and your friends a hot new restaurant. I hope you’ll give us a chance once we’re up and running.”
Pamela continued to hold my hand, long after an appropriate amount of time for a handshake had passed. Her gaze lingered on my face, her eyes turning heated. “Indeed,” she practically purred. She stepped in closer so her tits brushed my chest and her warm breath tickled across my neck. “I do hope you win the bid today. It would be nice to have some…new blood around here. You aren’t a local, are you?”
I shook my head, even though it wasn’t exactly the truth. But this woman didn’t want to hear that I was from the ghetto just across the town border. I didn’t want to be known as him either.
At least not today. Not here.
Pamela smiled. “Good luck, Mr. Whitling.”
She backed off, and I took a deep breath, though I immediately wanted to cough it all back up since it was heavily laced with Pamela’s expensive-smelling perfume.
Liam laughed under his breath as we moved forward. “Oh, Brother. How hard it must be to have that whole ‘dirty bad boy’ thing going for you.”
I whipped my head around to him sharply. “I don’t have that look. I ironed my damn jeans this morning.”
Liam snorted on his amusement and flicked my chin-length hair. “You think actually doing your laundry hides your muscled arms, your tattoos, and your come-fuck-me eyes?”
He said it in the mocking way only an older brother could and finished the sentence with near hysterical laughter.
Even though I knew he was joking, it bothered me. “Do I really come across like that?”
Liam sobered and gave me a shrug. “You can’t help it. Women like your face.”
I sighed. It wasn’t even just women.
I’d spent years skating by on my looks, using them to avoid the things I didn’t want to do, and playing on them as a strength when I did want something. I wasn’t smart like Liam. I could barely fucking read long enough to stay in school until I’d dropped out in the tenth grade. My face was all I’d had.
It had led me down a path I didn’t want anything to do with.
It was why I liked working in kitchens. Most of the time I was in the back, surrounded only by pots and pans, knives, and fresh ingredients.
Nobody could see my face. Or considered if I was intelligent or dumb as a doormat.
I was judged on the plates the waiters set on the tables.
I was praised because of the work I put into my craft, not just because I’d been lucky enough to be born with a pleasing facial structure.
Every time someone commented on my face, I just felt cheap. It reminded me of every lame come-on line I’d used on women, barely putting in the effort because I knew I didn’t have to. It freshened the memories of everyone praising Liam for winning another award, or graduating with another degree, while I fell further and further behind, always in his shadow unless I was picking up someone at a bar who would make me feel better.
Cooking had given me something more. It had opened a different part of me, one I didn’t want to lose.
The people in front of us shuffled forward, and we took their spot. The woman behind the desk smiled up at us. Her gaze glanced over Liam and landed on me.
She leaned forward, her tits straining against the vaguely see-through material of her blouse. “Good morning, gentlemen. How can I help you?”
“We’d like to register to bid,” I told her .
“Oh, of course.” She dragged her gaze away from me and over to Liam. “What was your name, please, sir?”
Liam glanced at me with a slight cringe. “I’m not bidding. He is.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry! I misunderstood…” She paused for a second and then gave me a tight smile. “I’m so sorry to ask, but do you have your finances in order? The owners are really only interested in serious bidders.”
A new determination settled over me. She hadn’t asked Liam if he was a serious bidder.
I needed this restaurant.
I needed people to take me fucking seriously. I was so sick of being nothing.
“My finances are sorted,” I told her through gritted teeth.
She dug her teeth into her bottom lip and wrote down the rest of my details as I rattled them off, but I couldn’t shake the feeling she thought I was wasting everyone’s time.
“Let it go,” Liam said quietly, moving away.
Every muscle in my body felt overwound, so tight they hurt. “Easy for you to say. People don’t underestimate you.”
Liam sighed heavily, but he didn’t comment, probably because he knew I was right.
But that wasn’t his fault. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just really want this place.”
“I know. Tell me all your plans for it.”
“You already heard them.”
He elbowed me. “Yeah, but you’re like an excited kid on Christmas morning when you talk about it, and that’s the vibe we need to go into this auction with.”
He was right. So I spent the next fifteen minutes rattling off every idea I’d ever had for my own space, and minute by minute, the vision came alive before me. I could see the bustling kitchen. Smell the fresh ingredients. Hear the smiles and laughter of the guests in the dining room.
The sense of pride that settled over me was one I wanted to live in.
It was one that washed away some of the bad shit I’d done.
One that made me feel like I could actually call myself a man.
And when the auctioneer clapped some rolled-up papers into his palm, I knew without a doubt I was going to make this place mine.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for your interest in this spectacular property. What will it become? A clothing boutique? A bookstore? A lovely little café for our residents to while away a lazy Sunday morning? Seventy-four Main Street, Providence, indeed has many different possibilities, and I know you all agree as we have several very excited bidders here this afternoon, as well as two on the phone, being represented by our agents.”
The woman who had registered us earlier and a man about the same age both raised numbered paddles from the sides of the room. Both of them held phones to their ears with their free hands and spoke in quiet tones to the bidders they were representing on the other end.
The auctioneer clapped his papers again. “Okay! Without further ado, let’s get this show on the road. Let’s start the bidding. Does anyone want to start us off?”
Liam’s words about going in and going in strong were fresh in my mind.
As was the memory of the real estate agent assuming I didn’t have the money for a place like this. I raised my paddle. “Nine hundred thousand.”
Liam’s surprised gaze bored into the side of my face, but I refused to look at him, even when he whispered, “Damn, bro. I said go hard, I didn’t say wipe out the entire fund on your first bid.”
“I didn’t,” I whispered back. “We still have a hundred thousand to play with, but what’s the point in beating around the bush?”
Liam nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s see where this goes.”
“Strong opening bid from bidder two seventy. Thank you, sir. Can I hear nine hundred and fifty?”
The agent representing a telephone buyer raised her hand. “Nine-fifty.”
“Excellent! Can I hear a million?”
“Steady,” Liam warned. “That’s a suggested bid, not the one you have to make.”
I nodded, raising my hand to bid nine seventy instead, but the auctioneer took a bid from elsewhere in the crowd. “A million! Excellent.”
My stomach lurched, and I raised the paddle. “A million and five,” I called out. I would find the extra five thousand somewhere, even if I had to steal it. It was only five K.
The agent on the phone lifted her hand. “One million and fifty thousand! ”
I sucked in a shocked breath.
Liam grimaced and made a disappointed sound beneath his breath. “Listen, man. It wasn’t—”
“One point one,” I called out, raising my paddle again.
Liam stared at me. “We don’t have—”
“One point one five,” the agent called out, then went back to speaking quickly into the phone.
My heart thrummed behind my chest. Anxiety and adrenaline mixed inside me, swirling dangerously. “One point two,” I yelled before I could even think about it.
Liam yanked my arm down. “What the hell are you doing? We don’t have approval for anything over a million!”
“I’ll get the money.”
“From where? You going back to running drugs and selling women?”
I froze.
Liam shook his head and swore beneath his breath as the agent on the phone bid another twenty thousand. “I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
The auctioneer turned my way, peppering me with questions about whether I had another bid in me. I shook my head, letting the paddle drop from my fingers, while Liam’s words echoed around my head.
Liam ran a hand through his hair and let out a sharp breath. “Hayden, shit. I didn’t mean…”
I pressed my lips into a tight line. “I know,” I assured him. “You were right to bring it up. I was in over my head and needed to be reminded of my place. And it ain’t here.”
Liam tried to grab my arm, but I pulled away, walking out of the building and leaving a dream behind.