4. Jamie
4
JAMIE
N ow this is what I call an ideal evening.
My deck table is covered with platters of burgers, sausage, brisket, kebabs, and perfectly grilled corn. Any gaps between them have been filled with bowls of salads, fruit, chips, dips, or sweet treats.
The citronella torches have been lit. The fireflies are dancing around the yard, and my two closest friends are lounging at my table.
The only thing missing is Julia.
Wesley bites into his burger and moans, distracting me from my melancholy thoughts.
“This is fantastic. When are you going to leave Catalyst and come work for me?”
“When you stop being surprised that I can cook,” I retort. “Seriously, you do this every weekend, Wes.”
“And every weekend, I’m offended you haven’t joined me yet. Your talents are wasted here.”
“Speak for yourself.” Phillip huffs. “I’m more than happy to reap the benefits.”
“Says the man who brought store-bought pasta salad to the barbeque.”
“Careful there, Wes, your superiority complex is showing,” Phillip says with a grin
“It’s not a superiority complex if you actually are better than a grocery store deli.”
“Do you want me to break out the ruler?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “Or can we end this measuring contest without whipping anything out?”
They turn on me with matching smirks, and I immediately regret saying anything.
“Now, Doctor, how would you classify someone who constantly brings genitals into things? What sort of complex would that be?”
“It’s quite a serious one, I’m afraid,” Phillip says, adjusting his glasses.
“Which is?”
“He needs to get laid.”
I shoot them a glare, but it only makes them laugh harder.
“I swear, you’re no better than some of the kids we mentor.”
“Maybe, but we’re at least better looking.” Wesley laughs.
“Speaking of which, the rosters came out on Friday. Has anybody looked yet?” asks Phillip.
Wesley and I shake our heads.
“Did you?” I ask.
“No. I was worried about who I’d find on it.”
“Like who?”
“The Donnelly kid.” He sighs. “He wants to work with his hands and take classes more geared around that, but the parents are footing the bill. When I tried to talk to them about my concerns, they made it abundantly clear that they won't pay for anything other than ‘appropriate’ career training.
“The kid is miserable, but he keeps coming back hoping that the next thing he tries will be better than what he feels he was made to do. He’s essentially trapped. If he leaves and goes his own way, they’ll cut him off completely. If he stays…”
He shakes his head hopelessly.
“Even if I spent the rest of my life seeing clients and studying human behavior, I don’t think I’ll ever understand why people fortunate enough to have children vehemently refuse to accept them for who they are.”
His words hit me deep in my soul, and I’m haunted by visions of the curly-haired blonde children who never got a chance to exist.
Everyone who doesn’t have kids is full of “I’d never let my kids” fill in the blank statements—until they actually have them, that is. I’ve fallen into that trap plenty of times, but accepting your children for who they are seems like a basic requirement for parenting.
Not to say that there shouldn’t be rules and boundaries, but who cares if the kid would rather be an electrician or a carpenter than a hedge fund manager or a defense attorney?
Julia never would have cared about anything like that, and if she ever got a whiff of me acting like that, I would have been sleeping in the shed until the day I died.
“I don’t understand people like that and I especially don’t understand the parents who let them be a tyrant in their own tiny kingdom.” I shake my head. “Do you know how hard it is to try and teach someone who has never heard the word ‘no’ in their life?”
Wesley groans in sympathy.
“I cannot tell you how many of my students have burned themselves on pans and baking trays because they refuse to listen to me when I tell them it’s too hot for them to touch it without an oven mitt.”
“At least they learn after the first time, right?” I ask hopefully.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” he says with a sigh. “But no, not really.”
“Yikes.”
“Yikes indeed.” Wesley nods.
“They’re not all bad,” Phillip says hopefully. “You remember Melanie Cross?”
Wesley and I nod.
“After her session with me, she took all the things I’d taught her about how to run her own practice then went on to establish one of the best practices in the state. She’s become my direct competition for clients now,” he says, puffing up with pride.
“Chase Wilson was my Melanie Cross.” Wesley smiles. “We’ve stayed in touch too, have dinner every so often to catch up. Well, he invited me to his restaurant last week, and the man was preening like a peacock the whole time. Barely touched his food too. And do you know what he had the waiter bring out for dessert?”
“What?”
“His Michelin Star Award. Said he never would have been able to manage it without my help.”
“That’s incredible, and he’s only what? Thirty?” I ask.
“Twenty-six.”
“Wow.”
“I know.” He nods. “I’d barely gotten my catering company off the ground when I was twenty-six and he's already got himself two Michelin Stars. If he's this successful now, I can't even imagine what he'll be like when he hits our age.”
“Kid's going places,” Phillip agrees. “Who's your biggest success story, Jamie?”
“Jessica and Jeanette Weaver,” I answer automatically.
“The identical twins, right?”
“Those women were born for business. I brought them on at Catalyst as soon as they earned their certificates. Put them in charge of two of my newer ventures at the time, and the profits nearly doubled after just one year of them being in charge.”
Wesley lets out a low whistle.
“Maybe this new group won't be as bad. I might even be able to help the Donnelly kid find a compromise his parents will agree to if I end up having him again this session. So, is anyone ready to brave the rosters with me?” he asks.
“Might as well get it over with sooner rather than later.” I shrug. “You going to put all your bratty students on the same day again for this session, Wesley?”
“Never again,” he says with a shudder.
New rosters are always easier with snacks, so I load up my plate with a second round of sides, and yes, I did make a point of grabbing some of the pasta salad that Phillip brought.
Matthews, Jeremy
Munch, Gisela
Nelson, Ashley
Newton, Curtis
Okorie, Imani
Perez, Miguel
Parker, George
Ross, Avery
Rutherford, Edward
As I’m scrolling through, I notice it’s mostly new names. There are a few that have come back this session, but I expected that—strongly encouraged it, actually. Those five students stood out as skilled and highly motivated individuals during the last session. I just know that if I push them a little further, they could become exceptional.
Wesley’s triumphant shout startles me so much, I nearly fall out of my chair.
“What the hell, Wesley? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Sorry,” he says, grinning sheepishly. “I’m just glad Reggie boy decided to pull his head out of his ass and listen to me for once.”
“What were you fighting about this time?”
How does he keep getting invited back to be a mentor every year? I swear he gets off on the fighting sometimes.
“Oh, don’t give me that look, Jamie. You would have given him a dressing down same as I did if you were there. He was blathering on about how her being a single mother would set a bad example for our ‘elite students’, so he wasn’t sure she merited a full scholarship,” he sneers.
He’s right. I absolutely would have torn Reginald a new one had I been there.
“But the senator’s kid with all the child support lawsuits got in last semester,” I protest. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“The circumstances are different,” he says, adopting a pompous tone. “Besides, he's one of our students who can actually afford to attend. There’s less of a moral dilemma in that case.”
If I had my eyes closed, I would have one hundred percent believed Reginald had crashed our barbeque. Wesley even manages to replicate the expressions he makes too.
It’s downright uncanny.
Honestly, after hearing everything that went down and knowing how he grew up, I’m even more surprised that Wesley’s ‘chat’ didn’t end in a physical altercation. Single moms have always been his Achilles’ heel.
“So, who is this bad seed you’re mentoring that might corrupt our poor, defenseless students?” Phillip asks with a smirk.
“Only the most talented amateur baker I’ve seen in years.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline in surprise.
“That’s high praise from you, especially considering you haven’t even tasted her food.”
“I’m telling you I’ve got a great feeling about Avery. No one I’ve met who can decorate desserts that skillfully has ever served me something that tasted like shit. All she needs is a nudge in the right direction and an official certification. Mark my words, she’ll be unstoppable after that.”
“Wait,” I say, holding up my hand. “Avery Ross?”
He cocks his head to the side. “How did you know that?”
“She’s on my roster too—business practices.”
“How strange. She’s on my roster as well—psychology of marketing,” adds Phillip.
“Honestly, good for her,” I say approvingly. “If I were a scholarship student, I’d be squeezing every last drop I possibly could out of the experience.”
“We should make sure we coordinate with each other in terms of scheduling so she doesn’t get burned out. The best teaching techniques in the world won’t stick for love nor money if she gets overwhelmed.”
“Why are the two of you looking at me like I’ve grown a second head? It’s Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, guys. If she’s not sleeping well or getting any of her physical needs met because her schedule is overloaded, she’s not going to retain nearly as much as she could have if she had those needs met. You want to set her up for success? Then we’re going to need to work very closely with her and each other.”
“Bridget Callahan close?” Wesley says, waggling his eyebrows.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he scolds. “She’s our student, not our plaything.”
That sobers him up right away.
“You’re right, I was being a pig,” he says contritely. “On a less sexist note, did you want a sneak peek of who you’re going to meet before your initial meeting?”
“Seriously, Wesley? Are you stalking her or something?” I ask, horrified.
“Cut me some slack, will you? Reginald showed me her application, and she mentioned her website. It has links to all her professional socials and her vlog. Her portfolio really impressed me, so I started following her channel.
“If Reginald decided to be a prick and deny her a scholarship, I wanted a way to contact her so I could try and get her on staff at Fantasy Flavors. Still might try and hire her now. Her decorating skills alone could help us break into an entirely new strata of clientele.”
“She’s really impressed you, hasn’t she?”
“You have no idea.”
“You certainly piqued my curiosity,” Phillip admits. “Why don’t you pull up her pages and show us?”
“It’ll be easier if I text it to you.”
I click the link as soon as I get it.
Anyone who can get Wesley mooning like this without even having a bite of their food must be someone very impressive, indeed.
“Website’s user friendly. Very easy to navigate.” I nod approvingly. “Could use a little refining, but overall, nicely done.”
“Oh, who cares,” Wesley says impatiently. “Look at the cakes.”
I roll my eyes but indulge him anyway.
Wow.
I don’t know much about baking (I only speak grill) but I know enough to be impressed.
“You’re sure she’s never had any formal training?”
“Completely self-taught. I told you she was impressive,” he says smugly.
I hold up my hands in surrender.
“You were right. I won’t doubt you again—at least where food is concerned, anyway.”
“Check this out.”
Wesley turns his phone toward us and hits Play .
I don’t know what I was expecting her to look like, but it definitely wasn’t that.
Aside from the fact that they’re both blonde, she doesn’t physically resemble Julia, but something about her posture or the cadence of her voice or the way she moves her hands when she talks reminds me of her.
What surprises me the most is that it doesn’t ache to see something that reminds me of her in someone else.
All I feel is fascination.
When she cuts off her “fingers”, both Phillip and I scream.
“I reacted the same way when I first saw it.” Wesley laughs.
Well, she’s definitely got Julia’s twisted sense of humor. If they would have gotten the chance to meet, there’s no doubt they’d have got on like a house on fire. Between Avery’s decorating skills and Julia’s penchant for mischief, I would have lived in terror for the rest of my life.
The thought makes me smile.
I should be analyzing the video to see what I can learn about how she presents herself (and her business) to the world, but I’m too captivated by her to focus.
She moves like a dancer, has a smile that puts Marilyn Monroe’s to shame, and eyes like sapphires.
This woman is living art, and based on my friends’ expressions, they feel the exact same way.
If we make it through this session without crossing any lines, it’ll be a damn miracle.