In the Fire (7 page)

As the screen went black, the interviewer and Lassiter continued to talk about his show on the FoodTV channel and I tuned them out. All I could focus on was the dichotomy between a young Jamie and the one before me now.

“What were you thinking coming here? There’s nothing left for you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’ve been working on that for a while, haven’t you?”

Trevor kept his voice low and conversational. “I know you think you know him, but you know nothing about him. I was there for him when you broke his heart and left him high and dry. I was there when he was lost and alone in not one, but two cities.”

I glared at him, not wanting to ruin Jamie’s interview. Torn between defending myself to Trustfund and trying to hold onto my control for Jamie, I snapped back in a low voice, “It would have been better for him if you hadn’t been such a douchebag.”

“What were you doing besides making him feel like shit for actually going after his dream? You have the nerve to call me a douchebag? Look in the mirror. Jamie is much better off without you.”

Trevor’s eyes burned with satisfaction when he saw me wince. I didn’t want to get into this with him. Not with Jamie thirty feet away in the middle of a zoo, with the handlers showing off their latest shiny object. The painful truth of his words clashed with my own guilty conscience.

“Newsflash, Trustfund. He decided that a long time ago. Or do you not remember the whole conversation where you told me he didn’t require my services anymore? And in case you can’t read a map? New York is not Seattle.”

“Congratulations for knowing your geography, Ethan. Too bad you couldn’t have had a better grip on it when he was in Paris and you were in Seattle. It probably wouldn’t have been so hard on Jamie if you had realized how far away from home he was when you crapped all over him with your guilt trips. He’s my friend. Of course I’m going to look out for him. I always have.” He paused and looked at me, his expression twisted with disgust. “Can you say the same thing?”

“Bullshit. You say you’re his friend but even a blind man can see how exhausted he is. If exploiting him is your way of taking care of him, he’d be better off without you. But this has nothing to do with what Jamie wants, does it? Just admit it. You want him for yourself.”

His normally cocky façade turned nasty as he sneered. “You barge into his life and you suddenly know everything about him and what he needs after twenty-four hours in New York? Eight years ago, you knew absolutely nothing. You just want to break him, Ethan. You want to make him bleed like you did all those years ago so you can sit back and enjoy it. You broke him when he was in Paris and I put the pieces back together for him. The difference between then and now is I won’t stand by and watch you do it again.”

When a pissy chick holding a clipboard shot us both an evil look I knew we were getting too loud. But I didn’t care.

“Fuck you, Trustfund. You don’t know shit about Jamie or what he needs.”

He chuckled darkly and smirked, turning his head back to the front of the studio. “I know you’re not good for him. I know where he is every day. Who he talks to. Everything he does. I know his friends, his hopes and his dreams. You were with him for, what, six months? I’ve been with him for years. You want to know why he works hard? He still feels like he has to prove to the world he’s worth more than just a name. Day in and day out, he works until he drops so he doesn’t have to think about how his crappy parents just threw him away like garbage. At the end of the day, I’m all he has left. His career and his one friend in the world who actually gave a shit long enough to stick around. I’m the only one who stuck around when shit got rough.”

I opened my mouth to tell him off, but he cut me off.

“Save it. He did care about you long ago, and it nearly broke him. But he’s not the same person anymore. He’s someone people can look up to. You honestly think people say the same about you? Someone who can’t even show up to an industry function without getting plastered and making an ass out himself?”

“You don’t know shit about me or my life. And regardless of how many people actually believe your bullshit, you don’t care about Jamie either. You’re just worried your meal ticket is going to wake up and realize what a bottom feeder you are.”

He snorted at my words. “I pity you, Martin. Jamie is out of your league, always has been, but you just can’t seem to admit it, can you? You’re still the same arrogant, delusional head case you were when Jamie left you for Paris.” He tilted his head toward Jamie. “Do you think he reached this level of success by himself? I helped him get those connections because I grew up in his world. You could have never helped him get to where he is today. You couldn’t even pass a basic class without his help. How do you think you’re going to help him now?”

My body felt like it had been doused in cold water as I seethed with anger at his words. How in the hell did he know about the class Jamie had helped me through? Had he told Trevor about it? How much private stuff had he shared about us?

Trevor laughed at my confused expression. “Oh, he told me everything. We even sat around at a cafe in Paris laughing about it one day. How pathetic you were to even think you could hack it in his world.”

I hissed in a breath as his words hit me harder than a punch. Jamie wouldn’t have told him. Would he? I glanced toward the front of the studio, the host laughing at one of his jokes. The bitter realization sank in and I wondered what else they’d laughed about together. If it was true, I hadn’t known Jamie Lassiter at all, and the man I thought I had known had never existed.

“He was embarrassed of you, you know. You were too volatile, mouthy, moody... He never knew how you’d act or what would set off your temper. Your ego will never allow you to believe this, but he was relieved when you were out of the picture. After all, how long do you think he would have lasted with you destroying every opportunity he’d earned? He was better off without you before, and he’s better off without you now.”

Without another word, I walked out of the studio. Once I got to the dressing room, I ripped off Jamie’s shades and threw them against the wall. The splintered plastic bounced across the floor and only served to piss me off even more. If I could have stripped down naked right there to get his clothes off me, I would have. Instead I bolted out of the building as fast as I could.

Finally on the street, I flagged down the first cab I could find and barked out the name of my hotel. I needed to get my shit and get out of this city. My stomach churned as the cabbie maneuvered us through the traffic, Trevor’s words repeating on a loop in my mind. What had I been thinking coming to New York? That everything would be magically normal just because we’d talked, or I’d forget how much I still ached for him?

How stupid was I for believing that Jamie wanted to talk about us so we could both get some kind of closure? From everything I had seen today, there was no point. I did know one thing for certain, though. I was not staying in the same town as Jamie Lassiter and his Trustfund sidekick any longer.

Chapter Ten

Jamie

When the camera’s red light finally went dark, I stood up and shook hands with the always-perky Gretchen Holt. “Great segment today, James. Here’s to hoping we see you back in the kitchen soon.”

“Anytime, Gretchen. Sorry to rush off, but I have a friend visiting and we’re supposed to do lunch.” Throughout the interview my mind had been focused on finally getting to talk to Ethan.

“No worries, Jamie. Have a great lunch.” Gretchen squeezed my hand and I shot her a smile even though my cheeks hurt from the unnatural amount of fake I’d had to plaster on during the last hour. I’d spoken from the heart about my start at Cielo, but my brain had been focused on the man from my past waiting in the back of the studio. We needed to talk. About last night, about the last eight years, about the incredible kiss. About everything.

After the sound tech removed my microphone, I walked off the brightly lit set and into the shadows, searching for Ethan. When I only found Trevor’s serious face, my heart sank into my stomach. “Where’s Ethan?”

He blinked, a flash of hurt before he schooled his expression into his usual easygoing smile. “He left. I’m sorry, Jamie.”

“What do you mean, ‘he left’? Left to get his own clothes? Left to go outside to smoke?” My brain tried to come up with any excuse it could for Ethan’s absence. Any excuse except for the one I dreaded hearing the most.

Trevor shifted uncomfortably and pulled me out of the studio and into the hallway. “I don’t know what to tell you. He watched a little bit of your interview and bolted. I have no idea where he went, but my guess is he’s long gone.”

I sucked in a deep breath as his words hit home.
Always running.
I swallowed hard and tried to push down the hurt. Every single time shit got rough, Ethan ran. I’d known this was a distinct possibility, but it still hurt. After the kiss, hell after the whole embarrassing scene last night, I’d held on to the fact that at least Ethan cared enough to react. Sure it was a negative reaction, and as a thirty-year-old man getting drunk in public, it wasn’t the most mature option, but it was something. Something we could have used to finally fix what had long been broken between us. With him leaving again, the last spark, the hope for something—anything—between us sputtered and died.

I stalked over to the makeup station and grabbed a washcloth, angrily wiping off the greasy crap they always insisted on smearing on my face. After I grabbed my jacket and slipped it on, I knew I had to get out of the studio and away from everyone before I lost my cool.
Lassiters don’t show emotion.
For the first time in years, my dad’s voice popped into my head. As I stared at my reflection I felt sick. Mr. Lassiter. When had I stopped being Jamie and become Mr. Lassiter?

Trevor’s reflection filled the mirror as he stepped into the dressing room. “Jamie, I know you’re upset, but just try to remember you don’t need this kind of complication in your life. You were better off before he showed up. Trust me on this.”

Anger rose in my throat, bitter and choking. Usually I appreciated his support, but at this moment his attempt to handle me rankled. My whole damn life I’d been handled and while it was his job to manage my career, he didn’t need to manage me. “Don’t go there, Trevor. Not today. You don’t know what I want. No one seems to care what I want anymore.”

“That’s not true, Jamie. You know that.”

“It is and I do.” I slipped on my jacket, zipping it up as he watched. “I’m out of here.”

“Just let me finish up here and I’ll come with you.”

When he touched my arm, I flinched. “No. I need to think and just...be alone.”

“At least let me call the car service for you.”

I nodded, overwhelmed by everything that had happened since the awards dinner. Without another word I left the studio. I waved at the crowd outside in apology as I slid into the waiting car without stopping to be the good little publicity puppet I’d always been. The mask I’d held in place for so long was slipping, and if I didn’t get away from prying eyes now, I didn’t know what would be left when the mask slipped off completely.

* * *

When the town car pulled up in front of the Plaza, I slipped the driver his tip and climbed out, shutting the door behind me. I stared up at the front of the hotel, frozen. If I went inside all I’d feel was Ethan’s hands on my face, his body solid and warm against mine.

I turned and walked away toward Central Park. When I had first moved to New York, I’d go to the park to find a little bit of peace, and to think, when the noise of Midtown became too much. Once things took off with my career, I would come not just for peace, but to disappear. I loved how I could get lost among the greenery and the fountain, wander without people recognizing or even acknowledging my presence, save for the occasional polite smile or nod. It had been at least a year, maybe more, since I’d been here by myself. Too many months away from home. Too many obligations.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I dug it out, shaking my head. Five missed text messages from Trevor. I stuffed my phone back in my pocket without reading any of them and kept walking.

I followed the path until I found myself standing in front of the small culinary school next to the park. When they’d asked me to give a speech on current restaurant trends I’d done a whole presentation on farm to table and the importance of local, fresh ingredients. It was a topic close to my heart, but a long-ago discarded dream.

I didn’t miss homework or labs or exams. But I missed this. I missed the thrill of learning new techniques, of being surrounded by people who loved creating new dishes just as much as I did. As I looked at the front of the school, I realized this was what had been missing in my life. This was what had to change or I’d continue to be miserable.

Being back in a school setting wasn’t the best idea. Memories of my days in school came flooding back. With them came an endless string of memories of Ethan. The scowl on his face when his angel food cake had deflated. The way he’d laughed when he’d turned the beaters too high and sprayed whipped cream everywhere. He’d pinned me against a prep table and kissed me late one night when we were alone and practicing baking techniques.

I shook my head to clear out the images, still too raw after Ethan’s desertion. After a ten-minute walk, I was back at the hotel, gathering my stuff to leave. My eyes lingered on the sofa where Ethan had been not five hours ago. Before the awards ceremony, I had convinced myself after eight years apart I would be immune to him. The ache in my chest told me otherwise.

My phone pinged. Another text from Trevor
.

Please just let me know you’re all right.

I swiped the screen again and stuffed my phone back into my pocket. Trevor, just like everything else in my life, would have to wait until I could stop the noise inside my head.

A final survey of the room and bathroom made me stop cold in my rush to check out of the hotel. Ethan’s tux was hanging in the bathroom, still wet from when I’d angrily shoved him in the shower to sober up. Assuming he’d already left town, I called down to the concierge desk to see if they could return it to Le Parker Meridien. After my good deed for the day, I picked up my bag and left to get a cab and finally go home.

As the cab idled in traffic, I stared out the window at the Institute of Culinary Education, the largest culinary school in New York. Unable to curb my need to reconnect with my former life, I pulled up the Seattle Institute of Culinary Arts on my phone. An advertisement for an upcoming event being held on campus captured my attention.

Before I could stop myself, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scanned my contacts.
L.
Boulanger
. My gut told me this wasn’t the smartest idea I’d had lately, but after a string of bad ideas, what was one more? I told myself it was all about paying it forward, but I knew I was kidding myself. I loved to be around eager students who wanted to learn, but the deeper truth was I missed being there. The likelihood of the institute needing me to volunteer or help out was minimal, but I needed to remind myself why I had set out on this road in the first place.

I pushed “send” with slightly shaky hands.
No chance of worming my way out of it now
. Next, I sent a text to Trevor.

I need a break. From everything. Alone.

As his friend I should have regretted the tone, but at the moment I couldn’t bring myself to care.

When I got back to my apartment, I tossed my bag on the couch and wandered into the kitchen. I winced as the throbbing in my head got worse and popped some Tylenol.

No matter how much I tried to get Ethan and the past twenty-four hours out of my head, images of him holding me against him as he stroked me off came rushing back.
Goddammit.
He couldn’t do that and then just walk away. Ethan Martin was as infuriating today as he was when he was twenty-two. I wanted answers from him. No, I deserved answers from him. We had let things die the first time because we were both raw and hurting and hadn’t communicated at all. I wasn’t going to do it again.

A plan began to hatch in my overly tired mind. I needed to confront Ethan one way or another. Even if it was to just tell him to go to hell for leaving me hanging. Again.