Scrumptious (6 page)

“Holy shit. I can’t believe Keith didn’t call me. Have you seen him today? Is he okay?” Danny raked his long hair away from his face. She noticed that his frown barely creased his unlined skin as he checked his cell phone for messages.

She scowled at him. “I saw his back after he paid Kevin to walk out today. Do not mention his name in my presence, Danny boy. He’s a snake, and if you insist on calling him a friend, that’s your problem.”

Danny shoved his phone into his pocket and took a long pull on his beer. She knew he’d call Keith the minute he left, but he knew better than to push her. “Got a poker game tonight,” he said, thankfully changing the subject. “You wanna play?”

She wasn’t in the mood, but couldn’t resist asking, “What’s the buy-in?”

“Hundred bucks.” He took another swig of beer.

“No thanks, too rich for my blood.”

“The more that’s in, the more you win. Especially you.” His grin was full of mischief. “How ’bout you just come and play with my money? You can keep your winnings. I love watching you play poker.”

“Sorry, I just made plans with my mom.” Disappointment flashed in his wide brown eyes. She ignored it. “You better make it an early night, Danny. Don’t even think about calling in sick again tomorrow. If you miss another shift, I’ll fire you myself, even if we are short-handed.” She took the empty beer bottle out of his hand and pointed at the door.

He stood up quickly, before she could step back, and locked his strong arms around her waist. “Would you miss me?” He dipped to brush his lips against the side of her neck. It didn’t make her shiver like it usually did. She didn’t pull away from him, but she didn’t tilt her head to give him easier access either. They both sighed in disappointment.

Danny had a lot to learn, but he was sweet. She brought her arms up to rest on his shoulders. “Yeah, Danny, I’d miss you.”

“Good.” He dropped a fast kiss on her lips and released her before she could push him away. He grabbed another beer from her fridge and winked on his way to the door.

“That poker game in walking distance?” she asked, looking pointedly at the beer in his hand.

“Why? You wanna catch up with me later?” The look he was giving her now wasn’t sweet at all, and it reminded her that although he might lack experience in some areas, he more than made up for it when he was naked. A few hours in bed with Danny might be just the thing to wash away the sting of Joe’s rejection and the last dregs of her hangover.

Why not? She shook her head, more to herself than in answer to his question. “My mother is expecting me to walk in the door any minute.” As soon as Marlene told her she was coming.

Danny shrugged and slipped out her back door, throwing one last smoldering glance over his shoulder. It was surprisingly effective, and she regretted kicking him out for a full minute as she stared at the sunset through the screen door. What on earth had made her turn him down?

A silhouette blocked the fading light, and she jumped, recognizing her downstairs neighbor as he knocked sharply on the door.

“C’mon in,” she called. Good thing she hadn’t decided to nap.

Thomas stepped into the kitchen and quirked one dark, winged eyebrow at her. “Were you standing there waiting for me?”

She shook her head. “Danny just left a second ago.”

He stroked a long-fingered hand through his short goatee, which was starting to echo the thick, silver streaks at his temples. The man had a glorious head of salt and pepper hair, thick, coarse, and wild, and his unironed oxford, wrinkled khakis, and distracted expression completed the distracted English professor image. “Bill and I were thinking about heading out of town this weekend. Would you be willing to watch Samson?”

“I’d love it,” she replied instantly. “When can I have him?”

His expression was sheepish. “Now? Bill’s downstairs packing the car. We were going to take him if we had to, but if Aunt Marlene’s available…”

She nodded eagerly, and he backed out the door, returning a few minutes later with the panting beagle, his leash, and a sack of dog food. Samson yipped and ran in excited circles while they exchanged the necessary details.

“Thanks, Marlene. We won’t be home late on Sunday, I promise.”

“He’s no trouble. I love the company.”

Thomas leaned down to give Samson a kiss. “Be good, monkey man.”

Samson kissed him back and Thomas left, laughing and wiping his face on his sleeve.

“C’mon, Sam, let’s go see Grandma.” Marlene snapped the leash onto his collar, grabbed her purse, and led him out the door. The tip-tapping of his claws on the wooden stairs was a cheerful sound and she smiled, feeling optimistic about the turn her day had taken.

She’d been too hungover and shell-shocked this morning to talk to Olivia about working on the line again, but tomorrow was another day. It was probably better to wait and see what happened with Keith anyway. Joe was right about one thing: things rarely changed. If Olivia let Keith come back to work, Marly would be in the exact same situation as before.

She opened her car door. “Get up in there,” she said to Sam, who leaped up into the driver’s seat and clambered over the console. She started her car and pulled out of the driveway. Samson sat on the seat next to her during the drive, shedding like crazy.

Just as she turned into the driveway of her mom’s new house, she remembered she hadn’t called to say she was coming. She put the car in park and pulled her cell out of her purse. She’d better make sure she was still welcome.

A man answered her mother’s phone. Even though she should be used to it by now, Marlene stammered. “Oh, hey, um…is Kate there?”

“Sure thing.” She heard him call, “Honey?”

A moment later, her mother answered, “Hello?”

“Hi, Mom, it’s me.”

“Baby! It’s so good to hear from you
—
”

“Actually, I’m in your driveway.” As soon as it was out of her mouth, she regretted not slowly backing out into the street and driving away from the house. The man’s voice had killed her anticipation of an evening spent alone with her mother. She was almost certain her mom was going to marry this one too, and it was going to be painful to be nice to him. “I don’t want to interrupt your night, Mom
—
”

Samson barked, and her mother squealed, “Have you got Sam with you? Get in here, silly, I can’t wait to see him, and I want you to meet Richard!”

“Sure,” Marlene sighed, staring at the brilliant orange-pink line on the horizon and wishing she had stayed home to watch the sun set from her roof. This was certainly turning out to be a full day, she thought wryly, as she pushed the car door open with her leg so Samson could scramble over her. He jumped to the ground, and she snatched his leash as it slid over her lap, letting him drag her up the steps and through the door her mom was holding open for them.

Marlene unhooked Sam’s leash before she embraced her mother. As usual, her mom looked like she had just stepped out of a beauty salon. She probably had, of course; she often worked late at the beauty shop. Her mother practiced her art as assiduously on herself as she did on her clients, and it showed. Her fair skin glowed. Her fashionably straight blond hair, cut with careful layers to frame her delicate features, fell in a smooth sheet to the tops of her shoulders, and she was wearing fresh lip gloss in a peachy shade that complimented her skin tone perfectly. Her blue eyes were accented by a bold slash of metallic green.

Marlene always felt a bit rough standing next to her, as if she could never quite remove the film of grease the restaurant left on her skin or repair the damage that working with her hands did to her nails. Automatically, she reached up to try to smooth her curls, which were even wilder than usual because of her recent soak in the bathtub. Her mother drew her into the kitchen for the meet and greet with the boyfriend, and Marly braced herself, preparing to be cordial but not too friendly to a man who didn’t know that he wouldn’t be around for very long.

The sight that met her eyes disarmed her completely. Her mother’s new boyfriend was sitting on the kitchen floor, allowing Samson to lick his cheeks. “That’s a good boy. You’re a friendly little fellow, aren’t you?” He grinned at the dog, almost caught a tongue in the mouth, and then laughed, noticing them in the doorway. He gave Sam a final pat and stood.

“I’m Richard Stone. You must be Marlene.” She took the hand he offered and returned his smile. He was a few inches taller than she was, so that put him over six feet, and he was handsome, as all her mother’s husbands had been. He was dressed in tan shorts and a sports shirt, and he looked smart and steady enough to hold down a job, which set him apart from her mother’s ex-husbands. Well, excluding her father, who was a food broker, but his desertion put him in the same deadbeat category as the rest of them.

Richard slung an easy arm around her mother’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I’m off then. I don’t need any highlights.” He fluffed his receding hairline. “It might make the rest of my hair fall out. Have a good time, girls. Nice to meet you, Marlene.” He gave her a friendly nod, her mother an even friendlier kiss, then left by the back door.

“He’s…different,” Marlene ventured when she heard his car start.

Her mom’s laugh was a happy trill. “Yes, he certainly is. You know, I think he just might be
—
”

“The one?” Marlene suggested with a sigh, as her weariness returned. They were all the one.

“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, Marlene. At least I try. You gotta be in it to win it, babe.”

“I know, I know.” Her mom believed that happiness was a steady man, any steady man, and she was mercifully unaware of the ever-changing parade of men that circled her daughter. Occasionally, Marly would tell her about one random guy in order to pacify her. It was easier to recall exactly whom her mother thought she was dating than it was to tell her perpetually optimistic mother that she didn’t believe in love. Actually, they shared the same dating philosophy. There was always a next guy on the horizon for them, but Marlene wasn’t going to marry any of them.

She pulled her hair down from its twist. “Speaking of which, I turned down a poker game to take you up on your offer tonight.”

“What was the buy-in?” her mom asked with a sly smile.

“Hundred bucks. We can probably still get in if you’re interested,” she offered. It would be fun to play with her mom, even if she lost her money. Her mother had taught her everything she knew about Texas hold ’em, the sole legacy of stepfather number two, who had left them for Las Vegas and the lure of a World Series of Poker bracelet.

Her mom reached up to catch a renegade curl. “I’d much rather play with your hair, babe. Would you like a glass of wine?”

Marlene blanched. “Hungover,” she explained.

Her mother poured herself a glass of white zinfandel from the fridge and began assembling her tools. She ran her fingers through Marlene’s hair. “Nice and dirty.”

“Hey!”

“It’s a good thing, baby. Now relax, and let your mama work her magic.” She began to rub Marlene’s neck in smooth, hard strokes, and Marly groaned, giving herself up to her mother’s brand of tender, loving care.

Joe gathered up empty pans and exchanged them for clean ones in the dish room, stopping to grab a bucket of garlic mashed potatoes from the reach-in. In spite of the chaos Keith had left in his wake that afternoon, they had breezed through dinner service. It had been an easy night, as smooth as any he’d ever had, although he couldn’t quite banish the image of Marly floating in a tubful of vanilla-scented bubbles. She’d left soon after Jacques arrived, thoughtfully leaving a diagram of the station and a prep list on his cutting board before she hit the door.

The warm air in the cooler registered just as he slammed the door shut. He checked the gauge. “Hey, kiddo, your cooler’s going down,” he called to Olivia. “Or up, actually. It’s headed for sixty degrees.”

“I’ll call the repairman,” she said, groaning.

He circled to the back of the unit and reached behind it. “Don’t bother.” He held up a length of electrical cord. “The plug fell out.”

Her relief was visible. “Good eye. You just saved me a hundred bucks, at least.”

“Excellent. You can buy me a beer.” He filled all the slots in his workstation with fresh prep, then spread a length of plastic wrap over the top. He dropped the lid with a bang. “We all set up here?” he asked, looking around. The kid doing salads had left when the orders slowed down. The waiters were gone too.

“Just about.” She was on her knees with her head stuck in the refrigerated bottom of her station reaching for something in the back.

“Mind if I go through the walk-in?”

“Be my guest. I’d love it,” she replied.

Joe had been too busy watching Marly in the walk-in that afternoon to notice the refrigerator was a hellhole. He emerged to grab a rolling cart and began to fill it with half-empty, unlabeled containers lined with blue and green fur mold, red spotted dairy mold, and trailing sprouts of delicate, black spores. It was an impressive collection of death in plastic buckets.

He turned to the tall racks that lined the other wall of the cooler, trying not to judge. What the hell had been going on around here? For Christ’s sake, somebody had put the chicken on top of the lettuce. He pulled the dripping box of raw chicken breasts from the middle of the rack and placed it on the bottom shelf, popping his head out of the walk-in just as Olivia entered the back room.

She surveyed the cart. “Looks like you found Keith’s special shelf.”

“Among other things.” He pointed at the lettuce. “Do you guys always store chicken breasts above the lettuce?” he asked, unable to keep the “comma, stupid,” out of his voice.

“Nope, bottom shelf, on the left,” she answered.

“Yeah, well, this time it was parked above an entire case of romaine. Unless you want to cook it, that lettuce is garbage. Got a recipe for lettuce fritters? Veggie burgers?”

Olivia grimaced. “Trash it.”

Joe nodded. Honestly, he wasn’t that surprised by the mold
—
par for the course where Keith Watson was concerned
—
but after finding the dishwasher gone and the cooler unplugged, the misplaced chicken was one too many unhappy coincidences. “Hey, kiddo, did you check the safe in the office after Keith left this afternoon?”

She turned white. “No, I called my lawyer, and then the orders started coming in.” She bolted toward the office.

“Son of a bitch!” He heard her say a minute later.

“How much?” Joe asked.

“Empty.”

He whistled. “You keep much in there?”

“Five hundred bucks in petty cash and paperwork, but that’s not the point, damn it. Hasn’t he done enough? I mean, I married him and he ruined my restaurant. He made me look like an idiot by screwing around all the time. Now he’s stealing from me? How am I going to get out of this? When is it going to end?”

“It’s going to end right now, kiddo. Call your lawyer again. Tell him what happened. I’ll finish up back here.” He steered her into the office.

Since there wasn’t anything left to do except pull the mats and give the line a quick sweep and a mop, which the dishwasher would do when they left, Joe laid his knives in his box and locked it. Then he gathered their aprons and towels and tossed them in the bin. He continued to tidy the back room until Olivia came around the corner.

“All set?”

“Yeah, Sean says not to worry. We’ll sort it out in the courtroom. He’s trying to get a court order to keep Keith out of here,” she said.

“Good enough. Let’s get a beer.”

Olivia put her hand on his arm and shook her head. “You don’t need me to go with you to Johnny’s to see if Marlene’s there, you know.”

“Maybe I just want a beer,” he countered.

“Right.” She waved at the night dishwasher. “Night, Jacques, thanks.”

Olivia gave him a pitying look, but she let him lead her out the back door and across the street. The bar was jammed, but Joe knew Marlene wasn’t there as soon as he opened the door. No electric zing. No instant hard-on.

“Can we go now?” Olivia asked.

The same bartender from the other night, the nosy one, appeared just as they reached the bar. “You looking for Marly? She’s not here.”

“Give me a Guinness and an Amstel, Johnny.” She jerked her thumb at Joe. “He’s paying.”

“Coming right up.”

When the drinks arrived, he paid for them and led Olivia to a small booth just inside the door. He couldn’t avoid her assessing gaze. “What on earth happened last night?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“That’s what Marly said too, but I find it hard to believe since you two have been at each others’ throats all day.” She picked up her drink.

“She was plastered,” he shrugged. “It didn’t feel right.”

Olivia choked on her beer. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand and looked at him as if he’d grown another head.

“Is that so hard to believe?” he asked.

“Yes!” She nodded hard.

“You women just don’t appreciate a gentleman anymore.”

“Joe! You aren’t a gentleman! Bad-boy vibes come off you in waves, and women want that from you. I think you hurt her feelings.” Her eyes held blame.

“She’ll recover. She was just pissed,” he said.

“Pissed enough to bury you with orders today,” she pointed out.

“You knew about that?” He was getting a little tired of seeing her roll her eyes at him. “Look, we made up. It’s over. We’re buddies now. We shook hands and everything,” he protested.

“You have truly lost your mind.”

Joe shrugged again and took a deep, drowning drink of his beer.

“Fine, Joe, you can live in denial if you want. But I’m warning you: don’t hurt Marly. She’s really not all that tough. Her dad left when she was a kid, and her mom is on her fifth marriage, at least. She hasn’t exactly had a good role model for relationships. If I thought you were going to mess with her head, I never would have left you alone with her.”

Joe mumbled something under his breath.

“What? I didn’t catch that.” Her voice was still sharp.

His vision of Marly half-floating in a bubble bath had been replaced by Marly and a man, probably that Danny guy from last night. Joe chugged his beer and clunked the glass down on the table. “I think she’s messing with mine.” He dropped his head against the back of the booth.

Olivia burst out laughing. “That will be the day.”

He looked at her through narrowed eyes and decided he’d been heckled enough for the night. It was her turn. Hopefully, a little teasing would get that bruised look off her face and get her off his back at the same time. “
You
oughta get laid, kiddo,” he said casually.

“You’re not offering, are you?” Her eyes were amused.

“I’d consider it, but why ruin a beautiful friendship? Unless of course
—
”

She shook her head vehemently.

Joe continued. “You should get back up on the horse, so to speak. You’re young, good-looking, and there’s no better way to get over Wonder Boy.”

“You sound like Marlene,” Olivia said. “She swears that the best way to get over the last guy is to move on to the next.”

“Smart girl,” he said wryly.

Joe sat up straight and scanned the bar. He spotted a middle-aged banker-type hunched over his glass at a table in the corner. “How about him?”

“He’s got a daiquiri.”

“All right then, what about that guy? Musician?” Joe looked at a scruffy, long-haired guy at the bar staring into his shot glass like he expected a genie to pop out of it. “Finish your drink, and go get him, kid.”

“He looks…dirty.” Olivia said, but she almost smiled.

“Picky, picky.”

She pointed at the door. “Quit playing matchmaker, and go get your stuff. I’ve got a spare bedroom, and you might as well use it.”

Joe raised his eyebrows over his Guinness. “Mrs. Watson? Are you trying to seduce me?”

She laughed out loud, and he felt he’d accomplished his mission.

“That’s Ms. Marconi to you, cowboy, and you can keep your horse to yourself. Giving you a room will be cheaper than paying for your motel, and it will definitely piss Keith off. We’ll have opposite schedules once you get rolling anyway.
Mi
casa
es
su
casa
.”

“Sounds fair.” Anything would be better than the motel he had crashed in last night. Fleabag city. “Tomorrow night should set me straight. I’ve got the menu down already. Why don’t you take Sunday off? No offense, but you look like you could use a breather.”

Olivia shook her head in amazement. “Sunday is brunch, Joe. Totally different menu. And tomorrow night won’t be a cakewalk for you either. We’ve got a hundred on the books, and that’s just reservations. I bet we do one-fifty, at least.”

Joe whistled. “I’ll take that bet. Easy street, baby. Turn and burn.”

“Only you would think you can run my restaurant after two nights on the line.” She punched him lightly on the arm.

“Two nights on the line and I
can
run your restaurant. And as far as brunch goes, I’m pretty sure I can cook eggs.” Joe stood. “You coming?”

“In a minute. I’ll meet you at my place.” She gave him directions.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive? We can pick up your car tomorrow,” he offered.

“Go, Joe.” Olivia gave him a shove toward the door. “Gimme some space. I’ll meet you at the house. Key’s under the mat.”

“Think about taking Sunday off, kid. You need a break,” he urged her.

“Only if you ask Marly to help you with brunch,” Olivia called after him. “Nicely! I heard you two squabbling today.”

“Have a little faith,” Joe threw over his shoulder, whistling to himself as he headed for his truck. He sat in his Jeep until Olivia left the bar and made it safely to her vehicle. Then he headed for the motel to check out and grab his stuff.