Spicy (Palate #1) (3 page)

A few minutes later I’d swallowed my pride and steeled myself to get on with the night.  After all I needed the money.  And so, there I was tottering awkwardly to the kitchen in a pair of stilettos I’d found in the back of the closet. 

Back in the day, I’d worn similar shoes without a second thought.  But that was before my pregnancy and the extra ten
or fifteen pounds I’d never managed to shed.  My weight had shifted, redistributing to my hips and breasts, and now tottering around in such high heels made me feel off balance.

But damn, did they look good…

So did the rest of my ensemble.

The dres
s I’d chosen was a knee length fuchsia cocktail number with rhinestone embellishments at the shoulders.  It had caught my eye immediately because it was the brightest and boldest of all the dresses in the closet.  It was something I’d never buy for myself because I had no place to wear such a thing…but I instantly knew it would be fun to play dress-up in it for one evening.

W
hen I saw the price tag on the dress, I knew there was a second reason I’d never buy it for myself!  Holy shit, it cost a fortune!  It also fit like a glove and I felt good in it, sexy and curvy and gorgeous.  Instantly, it gave me a lift. 

I felt even better when I got to the
large and immaculate kitchen and saw that Gavin was nowhere to be found.  Thank God for small favors. 

A couple of leggy fake breasted servers nearly knocked me over as they strutted out of the kitchen with trays in hand and noses in the air.  One of them ignored me completely, as though I didn’t even exist. 
The other one glared at me before pushing past me. 

I stared after them, too surprised to even yell anything snarky after them.  I hadn’t encountered
cattiness like that since high school, and back then it had been dressed in cheerleading uniforms, not cocktail gowns.

“Don’t mind them,” a mousey young woman hunched over the sink advised as she finished scrubbing a pot and set it aside.  “They’re bitches to everyone.”
  Her long dark blonde hair hung in her face almost like a shield.  Her voice was so soft, youthful and angelic that it was almost comical to hear her say a swear word.  It didn’t seem like the sort of thing that should be coming out of her mouth.

She wore a navy blue floor length gown. 
It was modest but pretty.  Even though she was dressed just like everyone else, she didn’t seem like she belonged in a place like Palate.  It was hard to pinpoint why, exactly…she simply didn’t fit. 

Immediately an infuriatingly annoying song from my son’s favorite television program started playing in my head and I had to resist the urge to start humming. 
One day I was going to send a strongly-worded letter to the makers of kids’ shows everywhere informing them of just how irritating they were.  Or at least I liked to fantasize about doing that any time the stupid yet catchy limericks infiltrated my brain and latched on like leeches.

Instead
of bursting into song, I extended my hand. 

“Hi, I’m Mina.”

The young woman pushed her hair back from her face, giving me my first clear view of her.  Her features were delicate and I saw she wore very little makeup.  Her hazel eyes lit up when I introduced myself and then and she beamed. 

Such a simple thing seemed to transform her entire face, lighting her up. 
Maybe she wasn’t a knockout like the bitchy, busty servers who’d nearly mowed me down, but she really did have a beautiful smile. 

T
here was something about her demeanor that was sweet and unassuming.  Immediately, I took a liking to her.  It was difficult not to when I saw how pleased she was to meet me.

“
Mina!” she repeated triumphantly, as though she’d just solved a riddle.  “I thought you looked familiar.  I’ve seen you on TV!” she exclaimed, genuinely excited.  “Oh, you’re my favorite contestant on the show!  I hope you win!”

I returned her smil
e, flattered.  I’d never expected to be recognized in Los Angeles, the city where virtually everyone is an aspiring star or wannabe celebrity.  But it wasn’t the recognition that I appreciated so much as the kindness. 

Since most of my days were spent either in close proximity to a bunch of cutthroat contestants on the show
who wanted me kicked off or with a boy who seemed like he might never outgrow the Terrible Twos, kindness was something I didn’t take for granted. 

“Thanks.  And you are…?”

“I’m Amanda!” she replied, drying her hands on a kitchen towel before enthusiastically shaking mine.  “So are you here tonight as part of the show?” she asked in confusion, peering around shyly.  “I don’t see any cameras?”

“
No, this isn’t for the show,” I replied quickly, noting her look of relief.  “I was just low on funds.  Being on the show full-time makes it tough to do much else…I guess that explains why most of the other contestants are rich college kids.  Anyway, Gavin is helping me out by letting me work here tonight.”

“That sounds like Gavin,” Amanda replied at once
.  The affection in her voice as she spoke of the man I’d grown to despise surprised me.  “He might act like he doesn’t care but I’ve seen firsthand that he has the biggest heart around.”  Then Amanda looked at me.  “You forgot to cut the tag off your dress,” she informed me.  “Here, let me get it for you.”

“It’s not mine,” I said quickly, tucking the tag out of sight.  “Gavin just loaned me the dress because I didn’t exactly have the right
type of clothes on when I got here.  I didn’t know Palate was such a fancy place that the staff even dress to the nines,” I explained sheepishly. 

“Gavin is big on creating ambiance,” Amanda explained.  “He says if his employees
look good they feel good.  And if they feel good it comes across to customers.  He’s all about creating the perfect dining experience…but I suppose you already know that from working with him on the show.  I still can’t believe he’s a guest judge,” she giggled.  “Oh, and the dress
is
yours.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone gets a new outfit of their choice when they start working here.  It’s a gift.”

My eyes widened
in disbelief at what I was hearing.  It just sounded too good to be true…and so unlike the cocky, arrogant, self-centered Gavin Rothe I’d come to know and despise during my time in the cooking competition. 

“
But the price of the dress I’m wearing…it’s more than I’d make in a month of working here!”

“It’s more than you’
ll make in one night,” Amanda corrected me gently.  “But in a month?  I’d say you could make that much in a week, depending on how things go.  Crazier things have happened, and you haven’t seen what it’s like here on the weekend.”

“
Wow!  But I’m just here for tonight,” I replied.  “…I think.”  I wasn’t totally clear on that part.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Amanda told me, sounding genuinely disappointed.  “
That reminds me, we’d better get back to work.  A VIP customer is bringing his entourage in tonight and it’s bound to be busy.  You can shadow me until you get the hang of things.”

Gratefully, I followed Amanda, thankful she’d taken me under her wing.

The next couple of hours were a whirlwind of helping out wherever we were needed.  I soon learned that unlike the other employees, Amanda had no precise job title.  She typically worked behind the scenes in the kitchen, but would do whatever needed to be done.

It also became apparent to me that she was fiercely loyal to Gavin Rothe.  Either she knew a side of him I didn’t or she was a terrible judge of character.  I would have liked to pick her brain on the matter, but there was no time.  We were kept so busy that I didn’t have time to think let alone visit.  Before long, everything blurred together.

Then the VIP guest and his entourage arrived and the night became a whole new level of crazy.

Something in the air changed.

That was my first inkling that somebody very important was coming into the restaurant. 

First there was a hush that fell over the place.  Conversations ceased completely and it got so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.  I guess that’s what’s meant by that expression the calm before the storm, because a moment later the
restaurant erupted into madness. 

“What’s going on o
ut there?” I asked Amanda as she led me out of the kitchen and we scrambled to clear tables.  She didn’t answer.  She probably hadn’t heard me.  The diners were becoming louder now.  Some were whispering excitedly while a few looked annoyed, perhaps irritated by the abrupt and notable change in the atmosphere. 

The ambience Gavin apparently tried so hard to create was gone.

I craned my neck to get a look but all I could see was the incessant flash of cameras as the paparazzi stood on the sidewalk in front of Palate’s windows.  Blinking, I looked to Amanda for an explanation but she had already moved on to the next table, cutlery cart in tow.  She appeared to be impressively focused on the task at hand, her brow furrowed in concentration and her tiny, dainty hands moving a mile a minute.

That was when we heard a crash in the kitchen. 

“Oh no,” she groaned as she looked back to where the sound had come from.  “Mina, can you go see what happened?  I’ll be in right away…I just have to get this finished first.”

“Sure thing,” I replied.

I made it about halfway to the kitchen before Gavin came storming into my path.  His pace was so fast and purposeful that he nearly bowled me right over.  Instead, he managed to stop short just before crashing into me. 

Instinctively, his hands grasped my
bare shoulders, steadying me.

“Sorry,” he apologized, his eyes locking with mine as though he was only just seeing me
then.  He didn’t seem to be flustered.  He was as in control as ever – and presumably as cocky as ever.  But he did seem overworked and preoccupied. 

“Is everything okay?”

“One of my servers walked off the job,” he told me.  “She picked the worst possible time for it.”

“Is that what the crash I heard was?” I asked.  Despite the sour taste Gavin Rothe left in my mouth, I felt a flash of sympathy for him.  I couldn’t imagine how frustrated he must feel, but to his credit he was cool, calm and collected. 
Personal feelings aside, I knew I could learn a lot from him.

He nodded
, looking rather amused.  “She threw a tray of drinks on the floor.”

My eyes widened.  “What?  You mean on purpose? 
Why?”

Gavin made a face, making it known to me that he had no interest in discussing the matter further.  “It’s all under control,” he assured me.  “But I need
you to get a fresh tray of drinks from the kitchen right away.  Take it into the VIP room and serve the guests.”

“Okay…”

“That’s the room I took you to when you first arrived here,” he reminded me just in case I’d forgotten.  Of course, I hadn’t.  A warm blush spread over me as I remembered the way I’d mistakenly accused him of wanting to sleep with me.  But if he was thinking about the way I’d embarrassed myself he didn’t let on.

“Okay,” I told him
, squaring my shoulders.  “I’m on it.”

“Be careful in the kitchen,”
he cautioned me.  “I don’t want you slipping and getting hurt.”

For a brief moment I was actually touched by his concern for me.  There was something kind of sweet about the way he’d warned me, like he really cared about my well-being.  Then I realized it was probably just a liability issue.  Of course he didn’t want anyone to fall and get injured because then he might get sued. 

Amanda caught up with me just as I was walking into the kitchen.  One of the busty blondes from earlier stormed past us with an ugly scowl warping her pretty face.  “That asshole must have a limp dick to not want a piece of this!” she snarled indignantly, half to herself.

My eyes widened and I tried to suppress my laughter.  Was she referring to Gavin?

Beside me, I felt Amanda’s body stiffen, relaxing only after the snooty blonde disappeared from sight.  “And then there was one,” Amanda whispered under her breath so that only I could hear.  “No big loss if you ask me.”

“
Do you know why she quit?”

Amanda shrugged as she sidestepped the broken glass on the floor, her dress hiked up around her ankles so as not to get dragged through the spilled drinks.  “I’m not sure.  I prefer to keep my head down and do my job,” she told me.  “I
t’s much easier that way.  I’ve had enough drama in my life already, thank you.”

That piqued my curiosity, but there was no time to dig deeper.  I picked up a tray of fresh drinks and quickly made my way to the VIP room – or at least as quickly as I could without spilling anything.  I cursed my vanity for prompting me to wear such a ridiculously high heeled pair of shoes.  I felt like a
tightrope walker in a circus trying to perform a trick without falling.

“Don’t drop it,” I hissed under my breath, my eyes trained on the drink tray. 

It was only when I entered the VIP room and was standing in front of a group of young men that I finally looked up.  Then I nearly did drop the drink tray because I was so surprised by who I saw.  “You’re…you’re The Sex God!” I blurted out, unable to hide my shock.

The handsome dark skinned man in front of me grinned,
flashing teeth so white they were nearly blinding.  He looked very comfortable, his arms laced behind his head and his legs stretched out in front of him as he reclined on the leather sofa. 

“If you say so,” he teased, giving me a
playful wink before sitting upright and taking a drink off the tray.  “What’s your name?” he asked before taking a sip.

I didn’t get starstruck often but The Sex God was the biggest rapper in the country – perhaps in the world.  His rise to stardom had been fast and furious, and he was so famous that even I knew who he was. 
He’d reached that special level of celebrity where it was all but impossible for anyone to
not
know who he was.  To see him sitting right in front of me was jarring.

“I’m Mina,” I replied as a few members of the
hip hop artists’ entourage helped themselves to drinks.  The immensely talented celebrity extended his hand courteously and I shifted the drink tray to the other arm so I could shake it.  “Can I get you anything else?”

Just then The Sex God’s phone started ringing.  “Sorry,” he said before getting to his feet and stepping out into the hallway, “I’ve gotta take this.
  It’s my manager.”

“
You can get me something, baby,” one of the other guys in the room growled, sauntering up to me like he was a big shot.  He was a scrawny little twerp wearing a wife beater, more gold chains than I could count and pants so low I was sure they’d fall down at any moment. 

I didn’t recognize him
, nor did I understand why he was a member of The Sex God’s entourage.  He was probably one of the hangers on you so often see in the media – that person determined to ride a celebrity’s coattails to fame.  Usually it doesn’t work.  Usually it’s just pathetic.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself to remain professional. 
“What can I get you?” I asked, taking a step back as he moved closer.  He seemed unsteady on his feet.  Even from a distance I could smell alcohol and weed on his breath – a combination that took me back to the wild parties of my college days. 

“What are you offering?” he grinned, leering at me. 
No one else in the room seemed to be paying any attention to us.  They’d gotten their drinks from me and now they were busy laughing and talking amongst themselves, likely unwinding after The Sex God’s concert or something. 

I was on my own.

Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I took yet another step back until I was against the wall.  “Not what you think,” I muttered, giving him a look that could kill.  It wasn’t the first time a drunken idiot had approached me looking for something I wasn’t about to give him.  It was unnerving, sure, but I was mostly just peeved.

“Oh, you’ve got spunk!” he announced, his smile broadening.  He had some type of grill in his mouth that made his teeth look like they were made of gold…or cheap imitation gold, anyway.  It wasn’t exactly a turn on, nor was his crass behavior.  “Hey,” he said, as though a brilliant thought had just occurred to him.  “You want
my
spunk in you, sugar tits?” 

“Do you want me to knock you out?” I retorted, done with being professional.  There’s only so much bullshit one can put up with, you know? 

Unfortunately it seemed my new little friend
still
didn’t get the not-so-subtle hint.  “You’ve got nice eyes,” he slurred even though he wasn’t looking anywhere in the vicinity of my eyes.  “And you’ve got great tits.  I’d love to just bury my face in those babies…what are they, C cups?  D?  Mmm, come to daddy, baby.”

Maybe he was too messed up to realize what an absolute pig he was being.  But it didn’t matter
…there was no excuse for behavior like that.  When he reached out and pulled at the top of my dress in an attempt to cop a feel, I didn’t just push his hand away.  I grabbed it, sunk my fingernails in and twisted his arm so hard he yelled out. 

The tray I’d been holding and the few remaining glasses on it clattered to the floor.
 

The room fell silent.
  All eyes were on us as people tried to figure out what had happened.

And of course
at that moment, Gavin walked in.

“What’s going on in here?” Gavin demanded as the annoying little twerp
wobbled around and screamed profanities at me that could make a sailor blush.  It might have been comical if it hadn’t been, you know, my life.

“
Shut up,” Gavin told him sternly in a no-nonsense tone.  To my surprise, the guy immediately did as he was told.  I knew the massively successful celebrity chef had a lot of pull in Hollywood thanks to all his cavorting about with the rich and famous but to see it in action was kind of impressive.

“
Mina?” Gavin asked, pushing past the irate drunk so he could get a good look at me.  His eyes trailed down my body and lingered on my ripped dress.  His jaw clenched and anger flashed on his face.  I could see his fists balled up at his sides as though he was ready to strike someone. 

“What happened?”  He probably already had a pretty good idea of the answer.

“What does it look like?” I replied with a nonchalant shrug, trying to act like my heart wasn’t racing and adrenaline wasn’t surging through my body.  “He got a little too friendly with me.  I wasn’t so friendly back.”

As though he’d just remembered what had happened, the douchebag with the low-hanging pants started ranting again.  “
That’s not what happened!  The bitch attacked me!” he complained, waving his battered forearm in Gavin’s face.  “See?  It’s gonna bruise!”

Part of me expected Gavin to fire me on the spot. 
After all, I was just a temporary employee, there because for some reason he’d decided to help me out.  The guy I’d gotten in the altercation with, despicable as he was, had ties to one of the biggest music moguls in the country. 

To be honest, I wouldn’t have faulted Gavin for canning me…much.

On the cooking show, Gavin was constantly reminding us that the customer is always right.  The customer’s whims, desires and opinions need to take utmost priority.  He was all about creating ambience and giving people an exquisite dining experience. 

Even though I’d
had a damn good reason to defend myself the way I had, I assumed a guy like Gavin wouldn’t see it that way.  He’d only see that I’d made a situation escalate instead of diffusing it and had caused a big ugly scene.  His only concern would be what bad press I might have stirred up and how it could impact his restaurant.

Gavin
looked livid.  “Get out of my restaurant,” he growled.  But he wasn’t talking to me. 

“I’m not going anywhere!” the rapper’s idiot buddy protested.  “She’s the one you should be throwing out.  She attacked me, man! 
Are you telling me you believe her version?  She’s a liar.  The stupid bitch practically ripped my arm off and I didn’t do anything –”

His rant was cut short as Gavin slammed him up against the wall. 
The outline of the muscles in his arms was visible even through his suit jacket.  He leaned in close and when he spoke next his voice was so quiet and so intense that I could barely make out the words.

“You’re lucky a bruised arm is all she gave you.  You’re scum for talking about her so disrespectfully and you’re scum for touching her without her permission.  Now get your
pathetic, scrawny ass out of my restaurant before I rearrange your face.”

Palate had a security team stationed outside, of course.  Such a popular restaurant in a trendy neighborhood n
ecessitated bouncers.  But Gavin didn’t call for backup.  He had matters under control himself.  He grabbed the guy by the collar and dragged him out of the VIP room with a ferociousness I’d never seen from him before.