Chapter 3 - Laurel
I didn’t know how I left the office or made it to the bus stop, but by the time I got on, I was still fuming. It was past rush hour, so I had a seat by myself, but I probably would have anyway since I was muttering under my breath and probably looked like thunder.
Oh, I couldn’t believe the audacity of that man. Did I really think he was handsome? I must have been out of my mind, blinded by those blue eyes that I now saw held nothing but spite.
It was humiliating that I couldn’t reference my last job, a year of my life down the drain.
I had worked my behind off to prove myself after getting my certificate and taking the leap to go to wine country.
Leaving the Five Horses Winery had been scary after being encouraged and nurtured by the owners, who treated me more like a daughter than my parents actually did.
I had friends there, though I let them fall to the wayside, too embarrassed to keep them updated when my dream shattered.
But I had gained accolades in Napa and was starting to make a name for myself. Gone, all gone.
No, it wasn’t. I could shout out my old job if I didn’t want to be beholden to my ex. Or let him know where I was. I wasn’t hiding what I had been doing for the last year; I was just plain hiding.
It was the same old story, just this time it happened to me. Rand Eckvald started out charming, sweet, and generous. And after we got together, he stayed that way as long as there were witnesses around. At home, it was a different story.
All those years, I thought my parents were the masters of emotional torture, but he truly figured out how to whittle away my hard-earned but fragile self-esteem. I thought I had grown immune to gaslighting and could see my way through any maze of lies.
I was wrong.
When things got physical, it got more difficult to pretend everything was fine to the other people at the vineyard, and as I started to give up, it was easy to see that Rand was whispering in their ears.
I was the problem, not him. And he was so good at it that I started to believe it.
Started to think I really did deserve what I got, that the fat lip was because I ran into a door.
That was all over, and if it meant having to put up with a new, tyrannical boss, thinking I wasn’t qualified to tell him that you didn’t drink sweet wine with a pasta covered in cream sauce, then I’d just have to breathe through it.
It would help to start now, because I almost missed my stop, and hurtled off the bus to my apartment. It wasn’t much, but I earned it and was going to keep it, just like I earned my job and was going to keep that, too. No matter how demanding or demeaning Mikhail Fokin got. Ugh, Mik.
He didn’t know what I was used to.
The next day, I was full of resolve, praying the bar wouldn’t already be broken down.
That white marble was so beautiful, I didn’t know what Mik thought would look better.
He must have had people in there before dawn, because the bar was gone, and wide sheets of shiny, hammered copper were being carried in.
Okay, they were actually gorgeous, but it didn’t matter if the bar was halfway across the restaurant and the poor servers had to scramble from there to the wine cellar for every order. My way was better, and maybe, just maybe, we could come to a compromise.
I didn’t see the new boss until lunchtime, and that was much too soon, but my discouragement at seeing his chiseled, set-in-stone face was shaken off by the announcement of a special lunch. Cooked by Andre no less.
I still hadn’t tasted more than a sample of one of his appetizers, which the mere memory of made my mouth water.
Nobody could diminish my excitement to eat some of the world-renowned chef’s food.
And this would be the perfect opportunity to prove myself a little bit to Mik.
If he saw how great my wine pairings were, he’d sit back and let the experts do the work.
After all, it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know I was qualified. Not my fault either, really.
The sample meal was laid out for all of us who were there that day, and it looked divine. Chase kept taking pictures to send to his husband, who was on his way home empty-handed, hopefully not out of a job, since Mik was determined not to do anything according to the original plan.
When it was time to open the first wine bottle, my heart sank when it wasn’t one of the choices I had suggested yesterday, right before Mik decided I didn’t know anything.
Nobody uttered a word, not even when I gave Chase a long look.
Because the food was so good, everyone took the easy way out and kept quiet.
Or maybe they really didn’t understand how much better it could be.
“What do you think, Laurel?” Mik asked, looking way too smug after seeing how much everyone enjoyed the meal. “You’re the only one who hasn’t given your opinion.”
I could just as easily not rock the boat. That probably would have been the best idea. “The food was sublime, and no offense to Andre, but I think it could be better.”
Andre groaned. He knew exactly what I meant, but he had a lot more at stake than I did with his multimillion-dollar salary on the line.
Mik’s self-satisfied grin didn’t falter. “Prove it, then, Miss Expert.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to snap something about his sarcasm being unseemly, but I recognized his little challenge was my shot.
“I’ll bring out another serving of the pasta,” Andre offered, waving for one of the kitchen lackeys to get it done.
“And I’ll get the wine,” I said, jumping up.
Everyone tried a few bites, followed by my crisp Pinot Grigio. They all said something noncommittal, saying it was great both ways. Even Andre was diplomatic, refusing to admit the obvious. Was I so far off the mark?
Doubt began to creep in, and to my horror, tears began to sting my eyes. I resolutely blinked them away, waiting for Mik’s final assessment.
My reputation was on the line when the place opened. A reputation that already took a huge hit for reasons that had nothing to do with my capability as a sommelier. I watched him take another bite of pasta, then a sip of the Pinot, his eyes locked on me, his expression unreadable.
Would he even be able to tell a difference between his choice and mine with his low-brow beer palate?
I needed this job, this second chance, but I wasn’t sure I could stay if I was forced to put out less than the best.