Chapter 19
ELI
TRACK: Alexa Cappelli, “Could’ve Just Left Me Alone”
The next few days I’m hard pressed to focus on my own work given what Reese and I did down in her office. But there is, apparently, a world outside of Reese.
It’s my sister who brings me back to reality, with this insane idea to bump up the renovation schedule. She wants to tie the completion of the east wing renovation to midway through Chef’s Apprentice’s air date, to capitalize on all the publicity this show is bringing us.
But the moment she suggests it, I bristle.
“It hasn’t even aired yet, but already guest numbers are way up,” Cass says. “We’ll be able to handle twice as many once the east wing reopens.”
“Cass, you’re telling me this like I’m not the person who analyzes the guest reports.”
“I know,” she says, sounding irritated. “But I don’t understand why you aren’t as excited as I am about this.”
But pushing things up would mean more work for all of us. A ton more. Normally, I wouldn’t care. In fact, keeping busy is what I’ve been doing for the past two years straight. But my guaranteed time with Reese is dwindling, and I don’t want to spend it hustling here in the office.
I want to spend it all with her.
Because all I can think about is Reese Franco.
The way she looked with her lips wrapped around my cock.
I have to clench my jaw to get that image out of my head.
But not just that. It’s the way she looks all the time.
Like when she’s talking to the film crew, her eyes never leaving theirs, like they’re the most important people in the world, even though I know the show has been beyond stressful for her.
The way she wants people to see us together, to make this whole thing more believable. The way she looks when she’s singing.
Hell, the way she wrinkles her nose when Rufus does his business, but scratches him under the chin after she bags it up. I smile dopily.
But I can’t tell my sister there’s a real possibility Reese and I won’t be together once this show ends. So instead I mumble something about how she’s always telling me not to rush into things.
Cass is looking at me like I came to work without pants on. I glance down just in case, relieved to see I did.
But seriously, what is wrong with me? I’m fantasizing about Reese cleaning up dog shit.
I sigh, sitting up straight and resting my forearms on my desk. The renovation. Focus.
“Eli, if you’re worried about how it’ll all play out,” Cass says, mistaking my silence for concern, “don’t be.”
As she goes on about her plan, I find my mind drifting again.
A lot of it is Reese, but somehow, arguing about this renovation with Cass, I realize maybe because of Reese, my days at the hotel are numbered.
I make enough money with my side business that I don’t even need to be working here anymore.
I signed on as CFO at the hotel because it’s what Mom wanted, and we all wanted to fulfill her wishes once she passed.
But the place is in excellent hands with Cass at the helm, and she deserves someone with more enthusiasm.
“Listen,” Cass says, looking exasperated. “I’m going to arrange an emergency meeting with Sarah tomorrow. We can hear straight from her what it’ll take to make this work.”
“Fine,” I say, waving her off.
I should be excited about this revelation about work. Except pouring all my energy into my property business feels about as exciting as buckling down here. I’m good at it, but it’s not my life’s desire either.
I unlock my computer screen again, but instead of turning back to work, my eyes stray to a photo on the desk of all of us Nora took this summer, at Cap’s birthday party.
All my siblings are there, plus my dad, Blake, and Seamus.
Nora sent us all several takes of this family photo, but the one I chose to frame was one where I’m holding my nephew upside down as he laughs hysterically.
That’s what I want to quit this job for. I look at Dad, smiling happily for the first time since Mom died. He lived to raise all of us. That’s what I want too.
That recurring thought normally makes me depressed, but for the first time in a long time, something warm floats up in my chest thinking of me as a dad.
Something dangerously close to hope.
Luckily, my dangerously hopeful thoughts are interrupted by a text.
I glance at my phone and frown. It’s Nancy, the director. She must have got my number off the contact list Kelly gave everyone when filming started.
NANCY: Hi, Eli, we have a situation. Do you think you could come down?
ELI: What kind of situation?
I don’t think Nancy has ever texted me. She normally goes through Neil or Kelly, her boss.
NANCY: Please just come down.
Of course, my mind goes right to Reese, but she texts back right away.
NANCY: It’s not Reese. She’s not in yet. And nobody’s hurt. I just need you to see something.
My relief is short-lived. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.
When I get there, Nancy’s waiting for me just inside the restaurant doors, which are locked, seeing as L’Aubergine doesn’t open for another few hours while filming is going on.
“Eli,” Nancy says, cutting right to the chase. “We have a problem.”
“Where’s Kelly?”
“She’s not in.” Nancy gives me a look that mirrors mine.
Not good.
“Come with me,” Nancy says, leading me back to the kitchen.
Our weekly check-in meeting with the crew was called off yesterday because Kelly wasn’t feeling well.
She hasn’t been feeling well a lot lately.
I haven’t seen her around set the last few times I’ve been downstairs.
Not that that’s a problem, honestly. Except Neil seems to be feeling just fine, and now that I think about it, when I asked him about her last week, he waved it off, like he wasn’t concerned at all.
It’s no longer my business to care about whether Kelly’s okay, but the whole thing feels off.
In the kitchen, it looks like filming is on a break. The cameras are off, and the crew are standing around craft service, which is a prep table at the far end of the kitchen.
“Where’s Neil?”
Nancy purses her lips. “He’s the reason I needed you.”
She walks us over to the filming area. We pause, just off to the side of the prep stations.
Neil is leaning over Augusta’s prep table. Not just leaning—he’s somehow crowding her, his arms spread wide. He looks for all the world like he’s hitting on her.
Augusta, meanwhile, is chopping an onion half the size of his head with the kind of violence that would have a less oblivious man backing up. Her jaw is tight.
Anger floods my throat. I understand now why Nancy asked me for help. The normal person to go to about something like this would be Kelly, but this is probably why Kelly isn’t here.
“How long has this been going on?” I’ve been so wrapped up in Reese, I hadn’t noticed what’s going on down here. Reese obviously hasn’t either, given she doesn’t come in while they’re filming.
“Awhile. It was harmless at first, but it’s like he’s losing touch with reality. If I call him out on it one more time, he’s going to fire me.”
I move to go over there and—I don’t know what—knock Neil upside the head.
But Nancy puts a hand on my arm. “Wait. Augusta’s okay right now—she’s tough and won’t let anything actually happen.
But I need you to approach this carefully, Eli.
Because I also need Neil to finish hosting this show. It can’t blow up now.”
I take a breath. Then I look around. “Where’s Jacques?” He wouldn’t stand for this either.
“Neil doesn’t do it when he’s around, but whenever we’re not filming, he’s usually off somewhere with Marcel. Today, they’re filming a segment about that ghost over in the east wing.”
I vaguely remember that being on the schedule. “Why aren’t you there?”
Nancy eyes Neil. “My AD is covering for me.”
I understand. She doesn’t want to leave this situation alone for longer than it took to get me a moment ago.
Then a darker thought hits me. “Has he done this to anyone else?”
“No!” Nancy says quickly, reading my train of thought. “Not Reese, Eli. He wouldn’t dare. Anyway, he has a thing for Augusta. And he only pulls this shit when people who can make consequences for him aren’t around, so Reese doesn’t even know it’s going on.”
Nancy cracks her knuckles, and I can feel the anger radiating off of her. I suddenly feel for her and the tight spot she’s in. But I feel even more for Augusta right now.
“Neil!” I call, sharp enough that a few crew members breaking down a platform look up.
Neil looks up too, but ludicrously, just gives me a wave without even stopping talking. I don’t think he registered it was me. Augusta, meanwhile, looks visibly relieved.
“You fucker,” I say under my breath.
I’m pissed. Not just at Neil’s behavior, but that I didn’t know about this. That I thought he was a good guy. We all did. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m approaching the table, where Neil’s telling some story about hanging out with some A-list celebrity.
“Hello, Mr. Dunham,” Augusta says when she sees me.
Neil stands up straight as I arrive, and shoots out his hand. “Eli, good man.” I study him a moment. To think I thought he was harmless. To think I enjoyed his company. I look down at his hand, not taking it.
He has the decency to look slightly chagrinned.
“Got a bee in his bonnet, eh?” Neil says to Augusta.
She’s stony faced in response.
His charm bounces off both of us like something ugly.
“Come with me, Neil.”
“Maybe in a minute, I—”
“It’s not a request, Neil.”
For the first time, Neil seems to correctly gauge the situation. He blanches. “Sure, yes, right-o. Just uh, we need to get back to action in a moment.”
I barely manage to not grab him by the neck like I’m a bouncer.
We pass a woman crew member who looks a little too happy to see Neil getting pulled aside by his figurative ear.
“Neil, what the fuck is going on? Why are the women looking at you like they’re scared of you?”
“Scared!”
I’m bluffing. They don’t look scared so much as pissed. But it works.
And to my surprise, Neil looks genuinely upset. He claps a hand over his mouth, his other propped on his hip.
I relax just a little. Okay, so he’s not a predator. He’s just an idiot. I rub my temples with my index finger and thumb. “Neil, can you honestly tell me you didn’t see the way Augusta was looking at you?”
“No!”
“I know your whole thing is being charming, but none of this is endearing. I’m willing to bet the only reason she hasn’t stabbed you with that onion knife is because she still wants to win the show.”
“She will,” Neil says. His jaw wobbles slightly. He looks like he’s going to say something, but then his shoulders slump. “Eli man, I’m weak. That’s what the problem is. I’m a damned fool and Kelly’s going to leave me for it. I see the way she looks at you and…I don’t know why she’s even with me.”
I can’t even process that, because to my utter shock, Neil’s eyes have grown wet. The last of the anger drains from me.
“She’d take you back, you know. If you asked her. I know she would. You and Reese, you’re all she talks about.”
I open my mouth but don’t really know what to say. This has gone completely sideways.
Finally, I sigh, rubbing my jaw with my hand. “Just because you’re hurting doesn’t mean you need to go around ruining people’s lives, Neil. Doesn’t mean you can be a fucking predator.”
Neil hangs his head, glancing back at Augusta. “It’s not like that.”
Maybe not. But it’s still shitty as hell.
I look toward Reese’s office, as if it’ll give me the right answer here.
Neil follows my gaze and looks panicky. “You’re going to tell her, aren’t you? Fuck, you can’t tell her, Eli. She’ll kick us out. The show will be cancelled. I’ll be ruined!”
“I don’t give a shit about you, Neil.” But he’s right.
She won’t let it fly. I look back to Nancy and Augusta.
They’re huddled close together. Why should they be punished?
Especially Augusta. She’s endured Neil’s bullshit for this long so as not to risk this chance at winning. To keep the show on the air.
I look at Neil again, who’s crying openly now, his face in his hands.
I grit my teeth, letting out a breath. “Neil, stop. Just stop. I’m going to sit on this until I decide what to do.”
Neil looks up, his eyes so hopeful I’m hard-pressed not to backpedal.
“This is not to save you,” I say. “This is because of Augusta, and what she’s earned here. You need to be on your best fucking behavior starting yesterday. I don’t want you to so much as look in her direction.”
“Okay,” he says, his voice wobbly.
He’s pathetic like this.
“Go,” I bark, and he jumps, scurrying off like a fucking rat.
I scrub my face with my hand, heading back to Augusta and Nancy. I explain what I said to Neil, and how he’s not going to be bothering her anymore. “But if you want, I can get him off this show. I’ll tell Reese—”
Augusta shakes her head. “No. Please.” For the first time, she looks less pissed and more panicked. “I need this show to air. I need to do this.”
“Listen,” I say, lowering my voice. “I know you want to win this thing. And we’re all rooting for you.
” I look at Marcel, who’s reappeared at the next workstation, inspecting his teeth in the reflection of his chef’s knife.
“I won’t tank this for you unless you say the word, okay?
This is my hotel, and I don’t let shit slide here.
If he tries anything—if he even looks at you or any other woman in here sideways, you call me immediately. Or Cass. I’ll fill her in right away.”
Augusta nods, wiping tears from her eyes, then holds up the knife. “Better than me using this on him.”
I smile. “Better than that.”
But as I head up the stairs back to my office, a dark cloud hangs over me. I have no idea if I did the right thing.