Chapter Two
“You have got to be freaking kidding me. She sent back my soufflés? As if she would know a whip from a flake. I should go over there and tell her where she can shove—” Essie stopped short there, closed her eyes and did a few quick, deep cleansing breaths before she opened them again to see Trevor, one of the waiters, waiting with an apology in his kind eyes. Normally, he was all party-on and a quick gossip, but it would seem the nightmare from table twenty-three had taken the wind out of his sails, too. Essie not only wanted to give her a good tell-off for herself, but for Trevor as well. Besides, after getting home last night and practically tripping over her boyfriend’s packed bags, she was in the mood to lash out.
Trevor raised a hand. “No, hon. I don’t think you going over there will do any good. You know, as well as I, that the dessert is perfect. She’s been complaining all night.” Trevor slipped a look to the woman at twenty-three, who stared back at Essie in the open-air kitchen with a smug now-get-it-right look.
Seriously, some folks should not be allowed out in polite company without proper supervision.
Who sent back perfectly good chocolate soufflés? Not to mention the complaint she had about Essie’s coq au vin, which had won awards. Heat rose in Essie’s cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the fact it was sweltering in the prep line of her friend Julian’s popular Westside bistro’s kitchen. She knew she had to tamp down on her emotions. One, because it went totally against the Zen, no judgment, live-in-the-moment lifestyle she prided herself on. And two, because the kitchen was open and a focal point, on display to all the diners. This was normally a feature Essie enjoyed, but tonight, being as tired and emotionally raw as she was, she’d rather be anywhere but here on display for the New York IT crowd.
Essie had long told herself that if—no, when—she’d saved up enough money, coupled with the financial backing she needed to open her own place, she’d have a similar design. She was brought up to believe that the food prep was all a part of the dining experience and should be shared. Now, considering the nightmare at table twenty-three, who did nothing but complain about anything and everything, maybe that interaction would have to be rethought.
Once again, Essie let out a calming breath. She really shouldn’t get mad at the terror on twenty-three. Though Essie knew the soufflé was perfect, she grabbed a clean spoon to take a taste to be sure before throwing the rest away, with regret over the wasted food. Yes, the soufflé was fine. Actually, better than fine, but it lacked a bit of her usual spark, and she blamed herself for that. She should have told Julian no, that she couldn’t fill in when he called, begging for her to cover for his usual head chef, who had an emergency. That’s what she got for always saying yes.
Essie was exhausted and she knew it, having just come back home to New York from two months on the road as the private chef to an up-and-coming rock band. Six members, all with different tastes: one vegan, one veg, the rest true carnivores. It was quite the demanding gig. And no sooner was she back in her apartment, dropping her well-worn duffel on the floor, only to have them collide with the bags and boxes belonging to her ex-boyfriend, Cameron. She guessed if she hadn’t gotten in a few hours early, she may have found out about his planned relationship departure via text, which was his usual passive-aggressive modus operandi.
No, she wasn’t mad at the complainer over at twenty-three. She was mad at herself for being so gullible and not seeing Cameron for what he was, a cheater with a penchant for large-chested, petite women and continuing far too long in a relationship she knew was ultimately going nowhere. She should have known something was up when he was the one to encourage her to say yes and take the job on the road with the band. Telling her how great the money would be, and how he’d come out to meet her on the road, which he never did. Damn that Cam. Always the user. They had met while in culinary school when he asked her to tutor him with sauce reductions.
The thought pulled Essie up short. He was another “yes” that she should have said “no” to. Him, and the hims before. Always ready to use her up until a better option came along. So many yeses that started with hope, but then led to disappointment.
Just as she should have said no to Julian, and it would have spared her tonight’s aggravation. Not to mention she could have been catching up on much-needed sleep. Yep, each time she put her own needs aside and gave in to the “yes” to satisfy others, it didn’t turn out well. She was over being everyone’s go-to “yes.”
It was time she started living for herself.
Essie let out a breath before stepping forward, reaching for another just baked soufflé and topping it with powdered sugar, extra berries, and a drizzle of chocolate. She looked up and carefully handed it to Trevor with a weary smile. “Let’s hope this time’s the charm.”
Trevor let out a sigh. “I doubt she’d know charm if it landed in her lap.”
As she watched him walk over to table twenty-three, the woman made brief eye contact with Essie. Her clear blue eyes met Essie’s own dark brown ones before she gave Essie a nod of triumph and took a bite. The woman smiled, a small, satisfied, smug grin, which made the hairs on the back of Essie’s neck stand up a bit, and had her biting the inside of her lip. But Essie let it go as Trevor turned back her way and gave her his wide grin and a little thumbs-up.
People. Some just have to believe they’re that extraspecial snowflake or they’ll melt away to nothing. She shrugged, trying to let the encounter roll off her back. Who knew? Maybe Ms. Twenty-three had a bad day, or a bad month, or her boyfriend of two years did a dump-and-dash. Shit happened.
Julian came and leaned over the counter, his piercing green eyes sparkling with both weariness at the late hour and excitement over the packed restaurant. “Essie, my love, thank you so much for filling in tonight and tomorrow. I know it’s been a madhouse, but you saved my hide, like you will never know. I owe you big-time.”
“Yes, you do. I’ll add it to your list.” She smiled, now feeling bad for thinking so harshly of him. He’d always been a good friend, and the money from tonight would be a help, now that she didn’t have Cam’s money coming in to share the rent. Not that he wasn’t late, most of the time, anyway.
The thought of Cam and money made her wonder if her dream of having her own place would ever come true. Back when she was with him, they talked about opening up a place together. She couldn’t help but wonder how she could do it alone now.
Essie fought to push the thought aside. It was almost too much to deal with, just one day back and one day into the breakup. As of now, she’d operate as she had. At least he picked a good time. She was solvent and would not need to work until after the holidays, when she had more private jobs lined up. For now she’d do what she so very much needed to do for herself: a blissful holiday to think things over and sort out her life. One where she would not have to serve others, but, instead, visit with her mother and enjoy being the one who was fed, nourished, and treated right for a change.
So when her phone rang as she was ending the night with Julian, and it was her friend Misha with a call about a job cooking for some rich bigwig over the Christmas vacation, Essie was only too happy to put her first “no” into practice.