46. Colt
46
colt
“What the fuck is all this?” Hayden says, holding two paper cups of coffee with a yoga mat rolled up under his arm.
I gesture with my chin towards the cups in his hands. “I made coffee.” There are pots, pans, and cutting boards all over. I’ve got popovers in the oven and the beginnings of an omelet station with all the fresh veggies.
He shakes his head, holding up the cups and waves me off. “It’s a whole thing.”
“Wait, you’re still getting that woman coffee every morning?”
Hayden shrugs. “And you’re still holding onto a fucking empty pen, right?” He puts the coffee down, drops the mat, and pats me down. “Where is it?”
“Fuck off.” Push him away.
Tony enters with his hair in a million different directions. He picks up the coffee Hayden just put down and sips it.
Hayden rounds on him and takes it out of his hand. “Cretin.”
He scrubs his face twice and asks, “What’s happening?”
Hayden sips his coffee and says, “My question as well.”
I answer, “Breakfast.”
“Fine, smart ass.” Tony picks up a piece of tomato and pops it into his mouth. “Make me something.” He pours a cup of coffee as Robbie rumbles into the room. And takes the mug from Tony. Tony grabs another one and pours himself a cup then refills mine.
Robbie scratches his beard and points to the counter and sees the whipped eggs in a bowl. “Cheese, onion, tomato and whatever that green chopped leaf is.” I grin at him as I set to work.
“Swiss chard.”
A timer goes off, and I leave the sauté pan on the stove as Robbie, Tony and Hayden sit down at the giant kitchen island. They’re lined up like it’s a diner. I take the popovers out of the oven and place two pots of butter next to them.
I point at one and say, “Honey-lavender. And this one is ramp butter.”
Dax appears in the doorway shirtless as Robbie asks, “What the fuck is a ramp?” Tony picks up a discarded shirt that might be Hayden’s and throws it at him.
“Save that shit for Monica. Nobody here cares about your manly wilderness body,” Tony yells.
Dax puts on the shirt and answers Robbie, “Kind of wild onion.” He sits down next to Hayden.
Tony starts stroking his chin, staring at me. “You made compound butters this morning?”
“Then just fucking say onion butter. No ramps or compounds needed,” Robbie says.
I unearth the popovers and place them on a platter. “It’s got a garlicky taste to it. More than a scallion. Just eat it asshole.” I hear the door open and close in the front entryway below. There’s a shuffle as someone ascends the staircase.
Hayden pops a strawberry into his mouth and says, “What’s with you? You should not have this much energy. I feel like you got too much sleep.”
Tony chides. “Sleep was not on your agenda for last night. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Dax grins and says, “Wish I could say the same.”
Tony cuffs the back of his head and then points at me. “Tell me you’re not the only one who didn’t get laid.”
“I didn’t get laid last night.” Robbie grabs a popover. “It was this morning.” He drops it on the ground because it’s hot. “Ouch. Fuck.”
Law leans against the archway of the kitchen in the exact clothes he was in last night with a giant hickey on his neck and says, “Bro, you just saw him take that shit out of the oven. You didn’t think it would be hot?”
Robbie chides back to his little brother. “I’m hungry. Fuck off. Go wash your dick.” Everyone laughs and I’m glad their attention has shifted.
I fold the omelet with the toppings inside and it’s the perfect pale, fluffy masterpiece. I slide it onto a plate, toss some garnish and sprinkle a little truffle salt on top. I serve it to Robbie, and Tony immediately leans over and takes a bite. He moans as I wipe out the pan.
“You do know I run a cooking media empire, right? And I’ve known you my whole fucking life and have never seen you do this.”
Hayden smiles. “Give me all the veggies and is that bacon?”
“Lardons,” I answer.
Tony hisses and comes around the back of the counter to stand behind me. “You’re moving around these ingredients and in a kitchen as if you do this all the time.”
Dax has eaten at my house quite a bit. He grins and says, “What the hell do you think he’s been doing with all that pent up sexual energy for most of his marriage?”
“You cook?” Tony asks.
Law spreads some butter onto a popover and shoves it into his mouth. “Oh, he cooks. Cooks like a fucking dream. Marry me.”
“You couldn’t keep me sexually satisfied. Sorry, man.” I gesture to Law with a spatula.
“Load me up,” Law says, “All the damn eggs and veggies, meat and what kind of cheese do you have?”
“Brie.”
“Nah. Too slimy.” I grin at him.
Tony then says, “I’m serious man. That omelet is perfect.” I grin and pour egg mixture into a pan for Hayden and in a separate pan for Law.
“I don’t know what to tell you, T.” I gently shake both pans and then stir the sautéing ingredients.
Tony doesn’t move from my back as I work to make breakfast with everyone munching and eating.
“Go eat, Tony.”
“Too fascinated.”
“I don’t want to be on the Cookery. I just want to cook. I like it,” I say over my shoulder.
I turn toward Robbie and he’s done and has his plate out. “More please.”
“Get it yourself. He’s busy making mine,” Hayden says.
Tony puts his hands on my shoulders. “I have a question.”
Dax throws a piece of popover at him. “Shut up and sit down. Let the man do his magic.”
I finish Hayden’s omelet and slide it on the plate, garnish and then do the same with Law’s. Hayden scoops a huge helping of fruit and sits down. Law pulls the platter of popovers in front of him and slathers three of them with butter.
I have scones in the oven for the girls and children. I knew they’d eat all the popovers.
Tony stands back and leans against the counter behind me and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Sir Colton. If you cook to expel your sexual frustration, how the hell do you explain this spread this morning?”
“We’re going to need confirmation,” Dax says.
I shake my head. “Fuck. I can cook and I got laid. Happy?”
Tony bounces back to the other side of the island and says, “Seriously, my friend, I didn’t know you could do this. How are you doing this so well?”
Hayden says with a mouth stuffed full of egg, “Talent.”
Law raises a popover and says, “Skill.”
Robbie scoots his plate toward me. “More.”
We all laugh a bit and I grin, feeling a spark that lets me know this will be one of those moments I recall for years. I’ll remember every second of this trip to Paris. Every jab, every curve of her body, and every molecule of happiness I’m wringing out of this.