Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
B randon looked out the window of the restaurant at the dreary Boston morning. If someone had told him when he first got the job at Giovanni’s he’d be managing, he’d think they were crazy. He took the job bartending to pay the bills, but as the years went by and his nonexistent writing career continued to tank, there he was, a kitchen manager in a restaurant he didn’t even want to work at, dealing with things he didn’t want to deal with.
He looked down at his watch. After a late-night text, he had agreed to meet with Cora to discuss the night before, but who was he kidding? She wasn’t going to get into any trouble at work. Yes, she’d walked out without telling him, but besides that one random walkout, she had been one of the hardest workers he had at the restaurant. She was the only other person who came in before her shift to make sure everything was ready. She often left long after her shift was over. She was a team player and never had problems with the other staff.
Besides, Brandon would miss her if she didn’t work at the restaurant. He enjoyed being around her. He could talk to her about anything from easy everyday talk to secrets to serious, deep conversations.
Brandon hardly told anyone about wanting to be a writer, but Cora had even read a few chapters of the latest story he was working on. She had been one of the people in his life who encouraged him to pursue writing.
He had wanted to be a writer for as long as he could remember. As a kid, he’d hide under the blankets with a flashlight to write so he wouldn’t wake his parents. But life took a turn after his father’s death, and he started working at Giovanni’s. He was a kitchen manager with a few incomplete manuscripts and nowhere closer to getting a writing career.
Now, at thirty, after years of writing junk, he finally had something he knew was good, but he needed to finish it. So, what was holding him back? Like right now? He could use this time to get some words down, but instead, he’d rather stare out the window thinking about a woman.
Wasn’t that Brandon’s issue? Did he avoid the hard stuff? Brandon would have to write the hard stuff to finish the book. It was easier to wipe down a counter than get into his character’s head.
“How’s that writing career going?” Brandon mumbled as he wiped down the bar countertop for the fifth time. He should be at home writing and not coming in during his free time to meet with Cora.
What was going on with her anyway?
Julian Abbott in his ridiculous suit with his date dangling off his arm like an accessory—that was what was going on with her, he thought, just as a black car pulled up outside the restaurant.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Brandon said as Julian Abbott exited the vehicle and started walking to the restaurant.
“Who’s that?” Christina, one of the servers, asked.
“A tool,” Brandon mumbled as he wiped the counter.
As soon as Julian walked through the doors, Brandon started right in. “Did you finally remember that you still have to pay for dining in a restaurant, even with a state senator for a father?” He wiped the counter for the sixth time instead of looking at the guy Cora had risked losing her job over.
The second Julian stepped close enough, Brandon could smell the alcohol. Brandon knew more than anyone what a night of drinking would do to you in the morning. Julian’s bloodshot eyes looked swollen and puffy. The man looked utterly wrecked.
“About last night…” Julian pulled out a wallet and threw down five one-hundred-dollar bills. “I’m not usually someone who walks out on a bill.”
Unimpressed, Brandon left the bills on the counter. “I think it goes without saying that your business is no longer welcome here.”
Julian shook his head, stuffing his hands into his cashmere coat. “Is Cora here?”
Brandon just stared at the man. He wouldn’t have said yes even if she was.
The only reason Brandon even knew this dimwit was because of his name, his father’s title, and the fact that every time he had come into the restaurant in the past, he’d had a different woman draped on his arm. After the stunt last night, he was lucky Brandon hadn’t called the police when he’d walked through the doors.
“Sorry again,” Julian said, nodding at the bills on the counter.
Brandon didn’t want anything to do with this guy’s money—the kind of money that bribed its way out of bigger messes than this one.
Julian looked like he was about to walk away, then looked up at Brandon.
“Are you the guy?” he asked.
“What?” Brandon had no idea what he was talking about.
“Are you the guy she’s dating?” he asked.
Was Cora dating someone? Brandon shook his head. “Get out of here, man.”
“Could you tell her I’m sorry?”
“Tell her yourself.” Brandon was about to walk him out of the restaurant when something unimaginable happened.
Julian started to tear up.
“Take the money,” Brandon said, unsure what this guy was on. “We don’t need it.”
Julian squeezed his eyes, wiping the tears away quickly with his coat sleeve, and then shook his head. “Please just tell her I’m sorry.”
Brandon put his hands on the bar, using his height over Julian. “Tell yourself to leave the premises.”
He wanted this guy out of here.
Julian took in a breath and nodded. “You’re right. Sorry.”
Brandon watched him leave the restaurant and return to the black sedan with tinted windows. He hoped that was the last time he’d deal with this guy.