Tasteless (20 page)

“Sam,” his Uncle George said, sternly nodding at him despite the tears in his eyes.  “You look good.”

“You do too, Uncle George,” Sam said, reaching a hand out to shake his.  He said it before he had spotted the new creases that had formed in George’s face, deeper than it should be for a man of fifty.  His hair had also grayed considerably.  He looked back down at his mom, who was sobbing happily into his shirt.  There were new grays in her normally jet-black hair as well.

“What are you doing home?” Maya asked.  “Didn’t the restaurant just open?” As the provider of celebrity gossip news to the family, Sam realized that if Maya didn’t know why he was home, no one did yet.

“I’m visiting,” Sam shrugged.

“You haven’t visited in four years,” Maya said.  “Why all of a sudden?”

“
Ai
, Maya – stop,” George said, shushing his daughter.  “What does it matter why now? We’re just happy to have him home.”

“I’m going to make you some pineapple fried rice,” his mom announced, reaching up to pat Sam on the cheek.  “I hope you still like that after eating all your fancy fried rices in the city.”

“There’s no such thing as fancy fried rice,” Sam laughed.  “And I’ll always love your cooking.”

“Sit, sit!” his mother insisted.  “We’ll cook fast.”

“Let me help,” Sam said.  “I came all this way to spend time with you guys.”

“Rest! You’re probably tired from that flight,” George said.

When they wouldn’t take no for an answer, Sam took a seat at a rickety table by the kitchen.  He watched as Maya quickly refilled the water glasses around the dining room before rounding back to him.

“So, why are you home?” Maya asked again.  “Our parents might be too happy to think anything’s weird, but I know better.”

“Happy to see you too, cousin.”

“Either you tell me now, or I’ll just sit here and go through all the gossip blogs.”

“I quit the restaurant.”

“You did
what
?” Maya shrieked, loud enough to give the customers an excuse to look over.

“Shut up, asshole,” Sam said.  “Way to give me away, Jesus.”

“So what is this? Are you done?” Maya asked, her hands flailing.  “This is it? You’ve given up and you’re home now?”

“Wow.  That’s a whole lot of assumptions right there.”

“I just know you,” Maya continued, pointing a finger at him.  “If we don’t hear from you, that means things are going fine – not up or down, just fine.  If you fly one of us out to you, which you haven’t done in a long while, that means you’re happy and things are looking up.  But if you come back
here,
here where you vowed you wanted to leave since you were a kid, that must mean you’ve given up.”

“I’m just taking a break,” Sam said, feeling defensive despite the fact that Maya had gotten it exactly right.

“There’s nothing for you here,” Maya replied.  “There’s barely anything for us.”

“Mia, it was
very
hard for me to make the decision to come back here,” Sam sighed.  “Can you let me relax? Just for one second.”

“I’m telling dad and Aunt Yvette,” Maya said, jumping to her feet.

“What? No!” Sam said.  Maya had always been a bit of a tattletale but he thought his confession was safe with her now that she was in her twenties.  Apparently he was wrong.  Maya disappeared behind the swinging kitchen doors and before he could do anything to stop her, his uncle had stepped out.

“Tell me she’s lying,” George demanded.

“I told her I was just taking a break,” Sam said.  “I just want to relax at a home for a second while I figure out what to do, is that so bad?”

“Why did you quit?”

“It’s complicated,” Sam exhaled.  “I found out the guy I was working for was a really bad guy and I just didn’t want to work for him.”

George stared at him, crossing his arms and looking even more serious than usual.  Behind him, his mother stepped out, an oversized bowl of fried rice in her tiny hands.  She walked over to him slowly, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You don’t want to be a chef anymore?” she whispered.  “Why?”

“I never said any of those things,” Sam said.  “Maya’s just making things up as usual.”

“Okay, okay, forget it,” his mother said, waving her hand in hopes of preventing a family fight so soon into his return.  She set the bowl down with her other hand, sweeping up the smell of sweet pineapples and smoky ham as she retreated.  He inhaled, taking in the fragrant aroma.  It was only then that he truly realized he was home.

~

His mother had left his room pretty much untouched, with the exception of a sewing machine that was now sitting on his old desk.  There was also a new corkboard hanging on the wall behind it, covered with clippings and printouts of all the articles he had been mentioned in.  Thankfully, none about his reputation with women had made it.

He pulled on his high school basketball uniform before throwing himself into the twin bed and staring up at the ceiling.  Sam wondered if he could return to this life and what it would mean for those around him.  Maya wasn’t wrong about the limited opportunities in Kapolei, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use his name to eventually start up a restaurant somewhere near the tourist spots or something.  There were plenty of things that he could achieve on the island of Oahu, plenty of ways he could make money.

Of course, it would never be to the same extent of what he could achieve in New York.  There was a higher ceiling there for all that the food industry had to offer.  Granted, he would have had to serve what felt like a sentencing to Somerville Diner and Dutchess Plains, just to earn the money he needed to get back on his feet again.  But what was a year, really.  So much could change in that time.

Despite continuing to ignore her texts, he wondered what Rye was doing.  The moment he had learned that there would be no sale without Sam staying onboard for at least a year, he knew he had the power to preserve Somerville Diner for Rye for at least a little longer.  He hoped she had figured out a way to fight against her father, even if he held ownership of the place.  Rye could be quite fiery when she wanted to be, although she didn’t seem to learn how to use that attitude towards her family.  Perhaps she had used up all that energy on him.

He actually missed her annoying and constant ribbing that she did between her affectionate little gestures.  Those two parts of her were somehow so perfectly balanced.  Sam could feel his heart race just a little faster at the thought of her.  He laughed to himself, finding it funny that such simple imagery could get to him now.  Damian had always warned him that he would one day see girls that way, but Sam never believed him.

“Hello?” a little voice called from the other side of the door.

“Come in,” Sam said, looking to see his mother stepping in, holding a mug.

“I made you some ginger and honey,” she said.  “For your stomach because you get sick on planes.”

“I don’t anymore,” Sam smiled.  “But I could still use some.”

She sat on the edge of his tiny bed, watching as he sipped from the mug.  Her face was prouder than he would have liked.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Sam said.

“Why?” Yvette asked, patting his knee.  “You don’t want me to be happy to see you?”

“You look proud of me.  And I don’t deserve it.  Not yet.”

“Look at all the people who wrote about you!” his mother said, gesturing towards the wall.  “Why would they write about someone whose mother wasn’t proud?”

“I know criminals who have had more written about them.”

“You know criminals?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“No, of course not,” Sam laughed, reassuring her.  “Not really, at least.  Or not a lot.”

“
Ai
, okay as long as you stay safe up there,” Yvette sighed.  “So… when are you going back?”

“I…” Sam stuttered, startled that his mother would ask that.  He thought that she had at least understood that his stay would be extended.  “I’m not sure.  I don’t know yet.”

“Don’t you want to find another job?”

“It’s not as easy as you think, Ma.”

“But it’s even less easy if you’re down here,” Yvette said.  “How are you going to do your interviews? Even with Skype you would have to be awake and around at strange hours to interview with New York.”  Sam shrugged, staying silent.  “Unless,” his mother continued.  “You weren’t planning to go back at all.”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Well, be sure,” Yvette insisted.  “I know what you’re thinking.  That all you want is to be down here and help us.  I know what Maya said was true.  You wouldn’t have come back if you hadn’t already given up a little.  But you can’t afford to give up at all.”

“And you guys can’t afford to keep running Honua Hut without a little help,” Sam said.  “And I can be that help.  My reputation means more here than in New York.”

“We will be just fine,” she said softly.  “And we have
been
just fine.  Things have been a little tougher but it’s okay.  We are still happy.  But we won’t be happy if you are here, giving up on your dreams so soon because life got tougher up there.  I know you can do it.  And we are still holding on.  There is plenty of time.”

“No there isn’t,” Sam sighed, thinking of Sandrine.  She hadn’t even been around to hear about him getting into UCLA.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Yvette narrowed her eyes at him.  “But that’s silly.  And Sandrine would tell you that too if she were here.”  She got up from his bed, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.  “I made you haupia.  I remember when you used to eat the leftovers from our parties for breakfast the next morning and I thought it would be fun for you to do that again.  And if you go back tomorrow, I have many takeout containers and we can pack it up.”

“Go back tomorrow?” Sam asked, smiling.  “Wow, mom.  You really don’t want me here.”

“I miss you every second of every day that you are not home,” Yvette said.  “I want you here all the time.  But only when I know that you didn’t leave so much of yourself in New York.”

Chapter 12

“Do you think I would have been more successful if mom named me after a steak?” Basil asked as he twirled his lemon pecorino angel hair up on his fork.  “I mean, look at Porter and Angus.  They’re doing
so
much better than I am.”

“You have The Blue Elk,” Rye said.

“Only because Porter
let
me have it,” Basil replied.

“What more do you want?” she laughed.  “It’s more than most people have.”

“You know Angus has dated more girls than I have?” Basil asked.

“No, and I wish I didn’t.”

Though she had been staying with Jeremy since she moved to the city, she had been spending a lot of time at her brothers’ apartment – a four-bedroom duplex just down the block from Porter and Basil’s restaurants.  It was like a lavish frat house, the ultimate dream for any man, let alone a bunch of guys ranging from eighteen to twenty-five.  As Rye and Basil sat in the apartment’s minimalist dining room, sharing a plate of pasta, she found herself wondering
just
how successful her brothers must have been to afford such a place.

“Are you sure you don’t want to move into the extra bedroom?” Basil asked, smoothing back his golden brown hair.  “I feel like it would really help deter Angus from bringing all those girls home.”

“I feel like you would feel differently if any of those girls had any interest in you.”

“I know!” Basil said.  “I don’t get it.  It’s like they
know
that The Blue Elk isn’t really my restaurant.”

“They can smell your desperation.”

“And total lack of achievement,” Basil sighed.  “I was honestly really hoping that the diner was going to be something.  It seemed more my scene and I was thinking of asking you if I could work up there.”

“Well,” Rye shrugged.  “I quit, so that’s not happening.  Ask Dad.”

“He’s still so angry about the fallout with the restaurant group, I’m pretty sure he wants nothing to do with us,” Basil said.  “He had us fooled there for a second, didn’t he? He and mom have always been master manipulators.”

“I know, they got me too,” Rye huffed.  “Badly.”  She frowned, sad that her happy memories of being a whole family were gone now, replaced by feelings of betrayal.

“You know that we didn’t know right?” Basil asked.  “Angus and Porter and I were all as shocked as you were when we heard.  That whole time we were just unknowingly along for the ride.”

“I know.”

“We really thought things had turned around too,” he said.  “But I see how stupid that was now.  Not that it matters for Angus and Porter.  They’ve pretty much written all of us off already.  Even me.  And I live and work with them.”

“That’s not true,” Rye laughed.  “Stop feeling so sorry for yourself.”

“I’m the Somerville fuckup.”

“Don’t take my title away from me.”

“You gave up that title when the diner was being revamped,” Basil said, pointing a finger at her.  “When I Google your name now, the whole front page are like, nice things about you.  When I Google my name, I have one mention in TBNY and the rest are recipes containing basil.”

“We can’t spend all our free time together moping,” Rye said.  “It’s not healthy for either of us.”

“Well, I have to get to work in an hour so I have to wrap up the mope-fest anyway,” Basil replied.  “What are you planning on doing?”

“I have dinner plans with Jeremy.”

“Ugh, still so gross that you guys are hooking up,” Basil said, wrinkling his nose.  “Hope you’re not planning on going to The Elk.”

“Don’t worry,” Rye laughed.  “We’re going to Lilac.  The Taste Buddies office is apparently sending him to try out some crazy new dessert of theirs.”