Chapter Four
Four
The party was off to a loud and lively start when an organized group of young servers appeared with steaming bowls.
A heavenly aroma wafted from the one set in front of Jamilah.
She immediately detected a hint of citrus, a touch of ginger, smoked paprika and maybe…
pork? The broth was clear with a light red tint, and the wontons looked airy and tender.
She dipped her spoon into the broth. A chorus of flavors sang on her tongue.
She took another spoonful, this time with one of the bite-sized wontons.
The thinly cut shallot enhanced both the look and the taste of the dish.
Heavenly.
“Oh my God,” Anna exclaimed, already scraping the bottom of her bowl. “That was even better than the sample he made last week.”
Monique lightly touched her frosted lips with a napkin. “I was just thinking that exact same thing.”
“That man can cook, no doubt about it.” Charles picked up his bowl and drank the rest of the soup. “I didn’t think I was going to like those soft noodles but wow. Delicious.”
“Hey, son. Do you think Blair could make wontons this good?”
Leon smirked, the good vibes and comfortable atmosphere erasing his shyness. “Blair can cook anything better than anybody.”
“Good answer,” Charles said to Leon, raising his hand for a fist bump.
“The only correct one from her husband,” Anna replied with a laugh, before turning to Jamilah. “Well, Ms. Restaurant Owner, what did you think of that first course?”
Jamilah was beyond impressed but hid her true feelings behind a bland smile. “I think I’m ready to experience the rest of his meal.”
And what an experience it was. From winging it with the sticky spicy wing served on a bed of lemon and ginger-dressed red and green cabbage slaw to the main course, kung pao platters served in varying levels of spiciness with different meats, Rashad showed a level of cooking that surprised her.
Jamilah didn’t compare him with Blair. Their styles were different.
But he could definitely hold his own with her in the kitchen and, Jamilah knew, handle the Side Chic’k menu.
Jamilah discreetly watched as he was stopped by another table of women who she assumed wanted to sing his culinary praises or maybe, given the murmurs around her, comment on his physical attributes.
She noted his easy charm and personable tableside manner, an added benefit within a restaurant setting.
Occasionally patrons at Side Chic’k asked questions Jamilah couldn’t answer or specifically requested the chef.
Blair was courteous during these exchanges, but Jamilah knew her comfort zone was less with customers and more when she cooked in the kitchen.
By the time Rashad served up a decadent chocolate custard pie with a fortune cookie crust, Jamilah had gone from wondering if he could handle the work in her restaurant to whether she could pay, even part-time, what this man’s skills were worth.
She was mentally calculating a salary within her budget when Monique, who’d left the table earlier to dance, returned.
“This is a great party, Monique. The fun and the food. Blair told me that Rashad was an excellent cook,” Jamilah told Anna. “She didn’t lie.”
“I tell him that every chance I get. He sometimes second-guesses himself because he hasn’t been to culinary school. He wants to…”
Anna quieted, as though saying too much.
“I’d love to”—give him whatever it is that he wants—“speak with him about working at Side Chic’k.”
Anna looked beyond Jamilah toward the double doors. “Here comes your chance.”
Before announcing his last course, Rashad invited anyone interested in having him cater their event to let him know. Jamilah watched as several women rushed him as fans would a rock star, almost snatching the business cards from his hands.
“Let me go grab him from Monique’s freaky friends,” Anna said as she stood. “Or you’ll be waiting all night to have that conversation.”
To keep from staring as Rashad approached, Jamilah feigned deep interest in the game of Fortnite Leon was playing on his phone beside her. Still, she was uber aware of Rashad’s presence, especially now as he stood right beside her.
“Rashad, I want to introduce you to Blair’s good friend, Jamilah. She owns a restaurant called Side Chic’k, near downtown.”
“Hello.” His large fingers engulfed hers, rough with knife cuts and callouses.
His gaze was direct and friendly, his smile kind without being flirty. Still, a wave of attraction passed through her core as she returned the greeting.
Jamilah suddenly felt shy and girly and inwardly admonished her reaction.
Who in the heck had taken over her body?
She wasn’t shy and hadn’t considered herself girly since she was sixteen.
No, she was all woman, a business owner seeking an employee to hire.
In other words, she was a frickin’ boss.
It was time to act like one. She cleared her throat and added a slight tilt to her chin.
“The food tonight was”—amazing, delicious, scrumptious, mouthwatering—“very good.”
The chef she could afford cooked average, even very good food. These more appropriate, more accurate words didn’t fit her hiring budget.
“Thanks, I appreciate that. Your restaurant is named Side Chic’k?”
Again that sexy, almost irreverent grin that had Jamilah feeling a type of heat that didn’t come from a stove.
“Yes, a play on the word chic meaning stylish, with an apostrophe between the c and k.”
“Interesting word play,” was Rashad’s neutral response.
“It also defines our menu, a selection of sides built around chicken, the only meat offered. So chic and…chick.”
“Creative. I like it.”
Why did she feel like she’d just won the lottery? What this man thought about her business, well, it was no matter.
“I liked your creativity, too, especially the wonton-o-mo. That soup was delicious. What type of pork did you use?”
“Aw, come on, now.” He leaned closer, his voice slipping into an effortless sexiness probably not intended. “We don’t know each other well enough for me to be spilling chef secrets.”
Well, baby, we can definitely correct that issue, she thought.
“I hear you’re looking for a job,” she said.
“Yes, and I hear you might be hiring.” At Jamilah’s questioning brow, Rashad continued. “Leon told me about his wife getting a new job at one of those upscale, five-star restaurants.”
That Rashad already knew Blair and Leon, even casually, made her feel better about hiring a practical stranger and less upset that he already knew why she was there. Clearly, the judiciousness that made her father so good in law enforcement had not passed down to her.
“Yes, Blair is an amazing cook. I hate to lose her. So…are you interested?”
“It’s definitely something I’d consider.”
Jamilah forced herself not to squirm under his direct, intense gaze, even though the way he looked at her caused her Kegel muscles to contract and release.
“You probably don’t have your phone on you.”
“No, it’s in the kitchen.”
Instead of using a digital business card, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a paper one, glad to do something that felt professional, like she was in the driver’s seat of this situation instead of trying to rein in an attraction careering all over the place.
“Does Monday at eleven work for you for an interview?”
“Sure.” Rashad took the card and after a quick glance slid it into his jeans pocket. He looked out as the music changed and people began pairing up to shake a tail feather between a crowd of onlookers.
“Time to hit the dance floor,” Anna said to Rashad and Jamilah as she tried to urge Charles out of his chair.
He shook his head. “Sorry, baby. My dogs are barking.”
Jamilah laughed at the old-school way to say one’s feet hurt.
“It’s all right, old man.”
“Hmph.” Charles’s eyes twinkled as he looked at his wife. “We’ll see if you’re calling me that later on tonight.”
Jamilah watched the intimate exchange, keenly aware of the potential hire, a strapping specimen of a young man, standing next to her and the antics he could undoubtedly perform later on.
Anna ignored her husband of more than two decades while a big smile broke out on her face. “Come on, y’all.”
“Do your thing, goddess,” Rashad said, giving Anna a quick hug. “I’ve got to finish up in the kitchen.”
And then to Jamilah, “It was nice meeting you.”
“Likewise. See you tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it.”
With a slight bow, he turned and walked back into the house. Jamilah quickly devoured his retreating figure with her eyes, then felt self-conscious as she noticed other women doing the same.
Pull. Yourself. Together!
Jamilah joined the guests on the sidelines, cheering on those brave enough to stand the good-natured teasing while taking the spotlight down the middle aisle of another Soul Train line.
Anna and Charles performed versions of eighties and nineties dances that brought down the house.
After saying her good-byes and walking toward the car, though, Jamilah wasn’t thinking about dance moves.
She was thinking about food, more specifically the man who’d made her want to moan from the dishes he’d created, and wondering just what else those talented hands could do.