Chapter 16 – Brooks
Chapter Sixteen
brOOKS
F or the first time since I opened The Plate, there are empty tables.
I dismiss all the staff except Jess, who served as a ma?tre d’ at a small Paris eatery to help pay for culinary school before she became a chef.
She mans the front of the house for the few customers while I prepare everything from the prepped ingredients.
Slater sits in the kitchen alternating between watching me and checking the internet.
I don’t need for her to tell me what they’re saying online.
I can read it in the thin line her mouth forms and the tightness around her eyes.
I can feel it in the chill of the kitchen and the quiet of the front of the house.
Savvier than I gave him credit for, Felipe Wilson was able to capture—and broadcast—my threats of harm to him.
After I left, Wilson had continued his lies saying that he wasn’t able to catch it on camera, but I’d talked about how Slater was mine and that I wasn’t going to allow anyone else in her life.
Rather than coming off as a protective boyfriend, Wilson made me out to be an unhinged misogynist who wanted to control Slater.
People were in her comments telling her to leave me.
Those comments bothered me, but I didn’t say anything to Slater because she was upset enough.
When the last customer is served and the kitchen is spotless, I turn all the lights off and lead my girl upstairs.
“I guess threatening to kill someone is not the best form of advertising,” I joke as the lights to the kitchen come on when we enter.
A high-pitched giggle escapes and then abruptly turns to a sob. She stuffs a fist in her face. “God, I’m so sorry. What did I drag you into?”
“I didn’t realize you dragged me over to Wilson’s.”
“You know what I mean. You just wanted to get laid, and now your restaurant is ruined.”
“Ruined is a strong word.” I push in the dial to the gas stove and listen to the click click click as the gas ignites the burner.
It’s a comforting sound. As the water and cinnamon stick heats in the sauce pan, I grab the maple syrup and herbal tea leaves from the cupboard.
“And I’m happy to have gotten laid, as you put it, because you and I were meant to be together. ”
“Are we? Because so far both our reputations have been ruined.”
“We’re in a downturn. I think Graham would say this is a buying opportunity.” I pour the cinnamon infused water over the loose tea to steep. Once it’s ready, I add the syrup ad top it with a squeeze of lemon.
“Is there a reputation stock market where we can buy good reviews and customers?”
“Probably.” I push the drink toward Slater. “Drink. It will make you feel better.”
“What about you?” she asks as she picks up the booze free hot toddy.
“Having my own comfort drink.” I pour myself a whiskey and tap my glass to hers. “To better times.”
Slater looks marginally better after a few sips. The hot drink has put color in her cheeks. She still looks defeated, slumped on the kitchen stool, her elbows on the counter and her hands cupping the mug. I lean back against the counter and cross my ankles.
I can’t even be mad about what Wilson said online after I’d left. Those were my sentiments. Slater belongs to me, and I’ll crush anyone that tries to come between us. I don’t know why that’s considered unhealthy.
I try to remember the other stuff I said, things he might have recorded but not released. As I’m running through our conversation, the image of his counter springs to mind. I tell Slater about it.
“I think he’s pretending to buy expensive wines and giving fake reviews for them,” I say. “There were bottles that cost five or ten grand. They were all empty.”
“And he had a funnel and tube?” she asks.
“Yes. Those wines are carried by the steakhouse where he works, so it would be easy for him to take the empties home with him, fill them with some kind of diluted grape juice, and then pretend to give reviews.”
She taps her fingers against her glass for a moment, pondering this information. “How do we prove that it’s not wine and that he’s faking it?”
“Have another sommelier go on a broadcast with him and they can do a taste test?”
“He wouldn’t agree to that.”
“I could host a wine tasting event at The Plate. We could broadcast it and have everyone give their opinions of the wines.”
“That wouldn’t really show that he was faking his reviews on his channel, though.
At best, it would show that he doesn’t have as much knowledge as some other wine guys, but it wouldn’t prove that he’s stealing empty bottles from the restaurant and passing them off as his own.
Besides, I think he’s up to something else. ”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know. I saw Sara today.”
“The cheater?”
“Yeah. She was the one that kept pushing me toward Felipe. I’m not a wine person. I like regular people food, and my booze is usually a wine spritzer.”
I make a face. She laughs. “I know. This is really good. I think I taste…maple syrup?”
“Yeah, a non alcholic version of a hot toddy.”
“It’s perfect. I like mixed drinks, fruity drinks, and stuff that doesn’t taste like strong booze.
Wine doesn’t do it for me, although Felipe tried to get me interested.
Anyway, that’s not where I’m going. Sara was the one who hooked me up with Felipe, only to sleep with him behind my back.
Today she said he doesn’t take her calls and was trying to get me to mend their relationship. ”
I do not understand people. “Why?”
“I don’t know. There’s something going on with Felipe, though, because why did he want to get with me? Why did Sara push me into his life?”
“Isn’t it because you’re hot and funny?”
This time, Slater’s laugh is genuine. “No, I mean, thank you for saying that, but Felipe didn’t try to date me because I’m hot and funny. It’s for some other reason.”
Fame, probably, but I keep my thoughts to myself.
I finish off my whiskey and take Slater’s hand.
“We’ve discussed the asshole enough for the day.
Let’s do something we both will enjoy a lot more, such as me proving to you that the only reason any guy would want to be with you is because you’re hot”—I kiss her neck—“and funny.” I lift her onto the counter. “Open up, darling. Time for dessert.”