Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Good?” I ask him.
“So fucking good,” he groans around a mouthful. He chews and swallows it down. Then, he puts the last of the taco in his mouth. “Fuck, Speedy. My stomach thanks you.” He grabs another tortilla and starts loading that up.
My cheeks heat at the compliment. “It’s no biggie.”
“Maybe not to you since you come from a family of chefs. But, to a guy who lives on takeout, this is amazing. What kind of restaurant do your parents have?” he asks me.
“New American cuisine. It’s a bar and restaurant.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s in New York.”
“I’ll have to go next time I’m there. What’s it called?”
“Simms. You know, our surname. Nothing original. Just let me know when you’re going to be there, and I’ll make sure you get the best table.”
He takes a drink of his wine and then starts in on his taco. “Why didn’t you become a chef?”
I put my food down on my plate. “Because I know firsthand how demanding the job is. I saw the hours my parents put into the restaurant—and still do—and, as much as I love cooking, I knew it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, to be honest, and after college, I just fell into working in wardrobe. I’ve always loved clothes, and it’s a fun job, so it works for me.”
“And your brother? You said he’s a lawyer, right?”
“Yeah, a corporate lawyer. It takes him all over the world.”
“Where is he at the moment?”
“Tokyo.”
“Great city.”
“You’ve been there?”
“A couple of times, promoting movies.”
“Ah, right. I’d love to go. The farthest I’ve ever been is Hawaii on a family holiday when I was a kid.” I pick my glass up and take a sip. “So, I know what your brother does. But what do your parents do?”
He doesn’t answer, so I glance over at him.
He’s frozen still.
“Gabe?”
His eyes flicker back to life. “My parents are gone.” He picks his wine up and drains the glass.
“Gone?”
“Dead.”
He picks the bottle up and refills his glass to the top.
“God. I’m sorry, Gabe. I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine.” He starts drinking again. His glass is half-empty. Then, it’s gone.
I pick my own wine up and drink it. I feel terrible. I’ve made him uncomfortable, bringing up his parents. And we were having such a nice time.
He pours more wine into his glass, but the bottle empties, only partially filling it.
He starts to move.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“To get another bottle.”
“I’ll go.” I move Gucci’s head off my leg, and I’m on my feet, heading for the kitchen.
I get another bottle of the same wine and open it up before taking it back through with me. I pour some more into his glass and then refill my own. I put the bottle on the table before sitting back down.
The tension in the air is awful. It’s like a rain cloud on a perfectly nice evening.
“Gabe, I’m sorry. I—”
“Forget it. You didn’t know.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear. Then, I take a bite of my food. We eat in silence, the sound of the TV giving background noise, but the quiet between us is killing me.
“So…I was thinking—”
“Did it hurt?”
And he’s back.
I almost laugh with relief. “Jackass.”
“Wench.”
I look over at him, and the corners of his lips are curled up.
“Anyway,” I continue on, “I feel like I’m not really earning the money that you’re paying me for taking care of you. All I do is feed you and help you out of the bath.”
“And having you do that is worth every penny.”
“Perv. And, now that I’m your employee, you do realize, with comments like that, I can sue you for sexual harassment.” I lick some sauce off my finger. I don’t miss the way his eyes follow the movement or the way they flare.
And I can’t deny that I like having that effect on him.
“I was talking about you feeding me, Speedy. Not getting me out of the bath. But good to know where your mind is.” He smirks.
My cheeks flame. I quickly pick up my wine and take a big drink to cover it.
“So, I was just wondering if there’s anything else I can do around here to help.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. I could clean.”
“I have cleaners who come in twice a week.”
“What about laundry?”
“They do that as well.”
“Oh.”
“You could help me run lines if you want? Donna, my PA, usually does it with me, but she’s on vacation at the moment.”
“That sounds awesome.” I light up at the thought. “I don’t know how good I’ll be. I mean, I did drama in high school and was in some plays, and I was okay, but I haven’t done anything since then—”
“Speedy.” He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “As long as you can read, you’re good.”
“I can read,” I tell him. “So, when will we start?”