In the Raw (6 page)

He seemed to understand what I wasn’t saying, and grabbed a foam container for my failed dessert. Together we scooped and scraped it into the box until it looked even worse than it had when it was in the pan.

“Why don’t you head home and check on Claire? Hopefully the cheesecake will make her feel better. I’ll clean up here.”

“Lassiter—”

He picked up the box and gently placed it in my hands. He looked as confused as I felt, but right now I needed to get as far from the classroom and Jamie Lassiter as I could before I did something stupid.

“You cleaned most of the stuff earlier. This won’t take long at all. Tell Claire I hope she feels better.”

I nodded and grabbed my stuff. “Thanks for the lesson.”

I didn’t wait for a response. If I stayed in the room with him for one more minute, the cheesecake wouldn’t be the only thing I managed to screw up today.

Chapter Ten

Ethan

The paper bag holding the container of chicken soup from Lect’s Soup Stop dangled precariously from one hand as I held a bouquet of wildflowers from the market in the other. After the way Claire had avoided me all week, a little extra effort couldn’t hurt. Last night, I’d brought her home the remains of the cheesecake disaster and shoved it in the fridge, but she still hadn’t touched it.

I knocked on her bedroom door, waiting for inevitable bark of “go away” to come from the other side. When the knocking didn’t work, I rested my forehead against the door.

“Claire? Come on, I’m sorry. Please come out. I got your soup. It’s chicken noodle from Lect’s.”

Silence.

“Clairebear, please? I’m a total shithead, alright? I’m sorry.”

When I didn’t hear any movement I shifted the flowers, nestling them in the crook of arm and twisted the doorknob expecting it to be locked as it had been all weekend. The door swung open easily and I poked my head in the room cautiously, expecting some kind of flying object to greet my appearance.

The room was empty. The bed was neatly made, though the desk was cluttered with a box of tissues, a bag of cough drops and an empty bottle of NyQuil.

Stuck to the mirror sitting on top of her battered thrift store dresser was another note.

E—

Couldn’t get out of internship—am still sick.
I
expect groveling and soup when I get back.
Extra groveling.

—C

I pulled the note off her mirror and tossed it into the trash can next to her dresser. Major sucking up was called for now.

When someone banged on the front door, I stuck the soup in the fridge on the way to answer it.

Still holding the flowers, I opened the door. The guy dressed in a deliveryman’s uniform asked wryly, “Flowers? For me? You shouldn’t have. Looks like someone beat you to it.”

I glared at his ugly brown polyester uniform as I tossed the flowers on the table next to the door. “Strip-o-gram? For me? You shouldn’t have. I’m more of a FedEx guy myself.”

“Ha-ha. Delivery for Claire Martin. You Claire?”

My eyebrow rose. I’d gotten the world’s funniest deliveryman today.

“Do I look like I’m named Claire? She’s my sister.”

“Right. It’s always the pretty ones.” The man held out the electronic clipboard for me to scribble my signature. He handed me a huge wicker basket wrapped in cellophane and a vase of exotic-looking purple flowers. He winked. “You have a nice day now.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed the door shut in his face. When you’re in a shitty mood everyone’s a comedian.

I carefully sat the vase and the huge basket on the counter and dug around amongst the cellophane for a note. I squinted at the message: “Hang in there and feel better soon. Jamie.” I should have been relieved he hadn’t signed it “Love, Jamie” with little hearts and shit.

Guilt settled in my stomach like one of the burned cakes I seemed to specialize in making lately. Claire was my baby sister—smart, intelligent, ballsy, fiercely protective and talented in the kitchen. She deserved everything in the world. A loving family, an awesome job running her own kitchen one day, and a fancy place to live. She deserved more than a paper cup full of chicken soup, a crappy ten-dollar bouquet and only a shitty brother to care about her. Worse than the guilt, though? I felt envy.

I wanted all of it. Not the material stuff but the connection with someone who gave a shit about me. I scrubbed my hand down my face. Except that shit didn’t happen to people like me and I refused to buy into fairy-tale crap.

The phone’s harsh ring broke the silence in the apartment. I shook my head, disgusted by my own pity party. Sticking the card back in the tangle of ribbons on Claire’s basket, I punched the button on the phone and barked out, “Yeah?”

Silence and static greeted me as I pulled the phone away from my ear to check if I’d accidentally hung up.

“Ethan?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“James Lassiter.” I let out a breath. Of course. Golden Boy. This day had to get better and better. He’d made me grovel for his help earlier, something that simultaneously pissed me off and made me respect his backbone. “Lassiter. You looking for Claire?”

“Actually, yes. I was calling to check on her.”

“She’s not here. Her internship leader’s a real dick and made her come in.”

“Crap. I’m sure it’s the last thing she needed. But I guess we’ll all face that once we work in real kitchens.”

I didn’t know how he could be this congenial when I’d been such an asshole. If it had been me, I’d have told myself to fuck off and die. Well, in a way he had. In his super-nice Richie Rich way. But the fact he’d taken my shit and given it right back to me was a plus in my book.

“I’m sure we’ll all find out sooner or later after graduation, right?” Well, Golden Boy wouldn’t. He already knew where he’d be. Probably ensconced in his corporate tower, supervising the peddling of jalapeño poppers.

“Right. The real world.”

Awkward silence descended as I turned to look at the clock.

“Hey, did you want anything besides talking to Claire? Your flowers and giant basket of well wishes arrived. I’m sure she’ll love them. All seven hundred and fifty-two items.”

“Ethan, I only sent it to cheer her up. I didn’t mean anything—”

The door swung open. I turned around to see Claire walking into the apartment with a tissue held against her nose.

“It’s your lucky day, Lassiter. Claire just walked in. You can ask her yourself how she’s feeling. And for the record? Chukar’s makes a better gift basket than the one—”

“Give me the phone, asshole,” Claire growled as she held out her hand.

“I was done anyway.”

She glared at me and cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder as she checked out the monstrosity of a gift basket.

“Hey, Jamie. Is this basket and flowers from you? Thanks. You shouldn’t have.”

She coughed into her tissue and wiped her nose as she listened to Golden Boy. I made a mental note to spray down the phone and all the surfaces in the apartment with Lysol after she went to bed.

“Yeah. I think it’s a cold, but I feel like absolute crap.” She listened for a moment but when she glared at me again I knew Lassiter must have ratted me out for something I’d done. I couldn’t win today.

“Really? Thanks. I’m sure it was great. I hope to be back in class soon. I can’t miss too much or I’ll fall behind.”

I moved out of Claire’s line of sight and into the kitchen. I needed a beer. Maybe two. I reached around the container of chicken soup to grab a bottle, shoving my poor pittance of an apology deeper into the fridge. Who needed soup when you had an entire basket of crap?

I slammed the door shut and looked directly into the eyes of my sister. Even sick she moved as silent as a ninja.

“We’ll have to get together soon once I get to feeling better and I can thank you for the wonderful basket and flowers. Maybe you can come over for a movie or something.”

I groaned and shook my head at her, already coming up with a dozen reasons why Golden Boy shouldn’t come over. I didn’t want him in my own space. She ignored my protests and flipped me the bird.

“We’ll see how this week goes, but it’ll be fun. I promise to pick an action movie so neither of you guys has to deal with a chick flick.”

I shook my head faster and made a slashing motion with my hand across my neck.

“You too. And I knew you’d see it my way. Keep your fingers crossed I kick this cold soon and am back in class to kick your butt. Thanks again, Jamie. Night.”

Claire ended the call and tossed the phone on the counter. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Caving under the pressure, I put my beer down.

“You invited Lassiter over for a movie date?”

“Cut the shit, Ethan. It’s not a date and you’ve been an asshole since Friday. I’m sick and feel like crap. He’s a friend. A friend. Get it? I’m allowed to have friends, and you are too. Hell, you need to get some friends so you don’t smother me with your overprotective bullshit.”

“I don’t need friends like Golden Boy, Claire. I’m glad he sent you all this nice stuff. You deserve it, and your old boyfriends never did stuff like this. But it doesn’t mean I have to be buddies with him.”

I must have hit a nerve. My tiny, sniffling sister exploded.

“For crying out loud, Ethan. He’s not a boyfriend. I don’t want to fuck him and he certainly doesn’t want to fuck me. He was only trying to help you last weekend. And from what he told me on the phone, it helped. Get your head out of your ass and stop being such a shithead.”

I pointed to the basket and flowers and opened my mouth to say how much Lassiter obviously liked her when she cut me off.

“Not like that. God, you’re such an idiot. I can’t do this with you anymore. Either you accept it or don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact Jamie’s help on Friday night was good for you. I’m going to take a shower. I’m sure I reek from the restaurant.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. The last person I wanted to fight with was Claire. She was my one ally. The one constant in my life.

“I brought you soup from Lect’s. It’s in the fridge. I can heat it up if you want.”

She paused on her way out of the kitchen and turned. Her expression softened as she sniffled. I couldn’t tell if it was from her cold or if I’d upset her enough to make her cry. When she answered, her voice was small and tired.

“Thanks. I’d like that.”

She turned and left. Alone in the kitchen, I glanced at my small discarded bundle of flowers next to Lassiter’s delicate orchids. I picked up both and searched for a vase big enough to hold them all together. When I finally had them all crammed into one vase and added water, I looked at the perfectly crisp buds in contrast to the small, crumpled wildflowers. The contrast was startling. It had been ludicrous to think they’d have ever fit together in the first place.

Too tired to mess with rearranging them again, I placed the vase on the table and went to work heating up the soup for Claire. I needed to get my head out of my ass and focus on what was important—passing this pastry rotation and winning the scholarship. If I had to suck up my pride for a few weeks and accept Lassiter’s help, fine. If it made Claire happy and got me closer to graduation, so be it. After that? I was going my own way. Far away from Golden Boy.

Chapter Eleven

Jamie

I hung up the phone, not knowing what to think. Class had gone better than I’d expected and the extra tutoring session had actually been fun. We’d fallen into a rhythm and it all clicked into place. It made all the crap on Friday night worth it to see Ethan’s cocky swagger and confidence back.

But better than the soufflé being perfect or his cheesecake being an interesting disaster, the way he’d put Reed in his place was a thing of beauty. Ethan knew who I was and didn’t want anything from me but the help I’d offered. He wasn’t impressed by my name, the money in my bank account or what I could do for him. Never once had he asked about my family or my father. Never had he even hinted about the possibility of getting an interview with my dad’s company after graduation, something that had become too common an occurrence the closer we got to our senior year. After years of people fawning over my parents or going glassy-eyed when they heard my last name, it was refreshing for Ethan to actually despise what my family’s name stood for.

So why did it come as such a surprise when he’d been such a jerk on the phone tonight? Earlier today he’d accepted my help but now, Asshole Ethan answered the phone. When I’d found out Claire was sick, I’d called the floral shop my mom always used and told them to send something nice a friend would like. A friend. Emphasis on
friend.

I threw my phone on the bed and sprawled out next to it. Why did I have to be attracted to a total asshole? A handsome, talented asshole, with sexy green eyes I could get lost in. But an asshole all the same. Why couldn’t I crave someone normal? Someone who didn’t constantly try to find all my faults? Or someone I wasn’t competing against for a scholarship that could dramatically change both our lives.

I raked my hand through my hair and groaned. I needed a long, hot shower followed by some uninterrupted sleep. Calling on what little energy I had left, I made my way into the bathroom.

Once the water was steaming and my clothes were in a heap on the floor, I stepped into the shower and braced my hands against the tile. The heat and pounding rhythm of the water on my skin helped ease away the tension of the day.

A jumble of thoughts flitted through my mind as I let the water wash over me. Class. Ethan’s outburst earlier. Ethan’s jeans as they rode lower on his hips when he leaned over to grab a beer from the fridge on Friday night.

Images of Ethan’s leanly muscled back flashed behind my closed lids and I imagined pulling him into the shower with me. With his dark hair slicked back, the water glistening over his pale skin, he was everything I’d dreamed of and more. I drew in a deep breath and reached for the soap, squirting a generous amount in my palm. I smoothed it over my neck and shoulder, wishing my hand was Ethan’s. It had been too long since I’d felt someone else’s hands on my body.

My soap-slickened palm slowly slid down my stomach and curled around my length. I groaned as I slowly stroked. Images flashed through my head of taking what I wanted for once. I pictured shoving Ethan up against the wall of the shower. With him I wasn’t polite, emotionless or quiet, or any of the things ingrained into me since birth. With him I could be as needy as I wanted. I’d never just let go and taken what I’d wanted before, but with him I craved it. Closing my eyes tighter, I imagined pulling his mouth to mine and plundering his lips.

As I braced myself harder against the shower wall, I stroked faster. I slid my free hand down to cup my balls, squeezing gently as I imagined Ethan dropping to his knees, his eyes dark with lust as he stared up at me. He’d lick his lips, his smirk firmly in place as he leaned in to take the tip of my dick into his mouth. My ragged moan echoed in the shower as I let my head fall back.

My strokes sped up as I imagined Ethan’s own desperate moan around my length, sucking hungrily as he slid his hands up my soapy legs to cup my ass. My grip grew rough as I felt my muscles tense and tighten and I imagined his touch on my skin. I stroked faster, my breathing choppy as I pictured sliding my hand into Ethan’s wet hair and cupping the back of his head as I thrust into his mouth. I groaned, low in my throat, the sound echoing in the shower, the idea of being in control of the always unpredictable Ethan Martin beyond sexy. Pleasurable plain flooded my body and I let out an anguished cry, stroking myself roughly as I felt hot spurts cover my hand.

I leaned against the wall, panting hard as I let the water wash away the last of my tension. My body was finally loose but my mind was tired and fuzzy. Actual cleaning in the shower took five minutes as I hurriedly soaped and rinsed. After shutting off the water I toweled off and left the bathroom, tugging on boxers.

I sat down on my bed feeling drained but finally relaxed enough to go to sleep. I grabbed my cell phone to set it on my nightstand and noticed I’d missed a call. All the tension I thought I’d worked out in the shower suddenly came back with a vengeance when I saw my dad’s name on the screen. If I ignored him, it would only make whatever he wanted to talk to me about much worse. If I called him, there was no telling what he would try to force me into.

Sometimes dealing with my parents was like dealing with a bandage. Better to rip it off with one quick tug. I pulled up my voice mail and heard my dad’s familiar, overly formal voice through the earpiece.

“
James.
It’s Dad.
I
just got off the phone with Daniel Jacobs
,
head of Human Resources.
He wants to talk to you about setting up a meeting to discuss your position in the company.
The sooner we can get all the paperwork taken care of
,
the sooner you can finally take on the responsibility of being a Lassiter.
Your mother also wants me to remind you we’ll see you at the house for family dinner next month.
I’ll be in meetings all day tomorrow so call me back tonight with your schedule and we can get this taken care of.
”

I heard the telltale click signaling the end of the call, followed by the computerized voice asking me if I wanted to save or delete the message. I deleted it without even having to think about it. Nothing I hadn’t already heard before. But now instead of my parents talking about an internship, my dad had actually said a position in the company. My parents knew I had one more year of culinary school left. There was no way I could take classes and hold down a full-time job at the same time. Either I was missing something or my dad was up to something and it didn’t bode well for my plans for the future.

As much as I didn’t want to call him back, I had to. If I ignored him completely it would only make him more demanding. I dialed my parents’ home phone, hoping my mom would pick up, but unfortunately, the deep voice that answered wasn’t hers.

“James, I spoke with Daniel Jacobs earlier and he wants to get the ball rolling on your paperwork. We both know the meeting in June will simply be a formality, but he wants to have everything in order so you can immediately step into the company. I need you to contact him tomorrow and fax over what he needs.”

I clenched my phone tightly and closed my eyes. “Hey, Dad. Good to hear from you. Sorry I missed you and Mom at dinner last weekend.”

I heard papers shuffling in the background as my dad’s annoyed voice huffed in my ear. “Don’t play games with me, James. It’s been a long day and I told Daniel you’d get all the necessary paperwork to his office tomorrow. Can I trust you to take care of this?”

Rage and frustration boiled inside me. Did neither of my parents have any clue what I wanted? “Dad, you do realize I have one more year of school, right? And I entered the scholarship competition. I don’t see how I’ll be able to work and go to school full-time.”

The paper shuffling stopped and was replaced by silence. After what seemed like an eternity my dad’s voice grew eerily calm. “James, we’ve humored you with this little foray into cooking school, but enough is enough.”

My skin felt cold and clammy and I could taste the bile rising in my throat. “Dad, this is what I want to do with my life. This is what I’ve always wanted to do.”

“James, you’re twenty-two. You have no idea what you want to do with your life.” The sound of papers being shuffled returned. My desires, my needs and my wants had already been relegated to the back burner as unimportant. “Your mother and I have decided it’s time for you to end this little experiment after this semester. You have Daniel’s number. I expect you to give him a call tomorrow and start the ball rolling so you can head into the corporate side of the business where you belong.”

“Dad—”

“Good night, James. We’ll see you soon for dinner.”

I turned my phone off and threw it on my nightstand. A throbbing began to settle behind my eyes. I’d have to call Mr. Jacobs with some kind of information, but maybe I could stall any talk of meetings and commitment until after I found out about the scholarship.

The scholarship. It was exactly what I needed to get away from my dad’s version of the restaurant business. All my parents had to do was point to the financial statement every year to prove how successful his business was. For me? I needed more. I wanted to create and make dishes people could lose themselves in. If I went to work for my dad, I knew a part of me would shrivel up and die.

I hated how they had never understood what actually made me happy. All my father saw were dollar signs. All my mother saw was her perfect family and the perfect Lassiter image. Being gay, culinary school, my desire to have my own restaurant one day? None of those fit with the perfect image and career path they had all laid out for me. They all added more incentive for me to win the scholarship and get out from under their ever-controlling thumbs.

I rolled onto my side and tried to push all thought of my dad and the family business aside. I was kidding myself if I thought the only thing I wanted after graduation was the scholarship. I wanted Ethan Martin. I just wasn’t sure yet how big a price I was willing to pay to get him.