and his date. “I’ll see you later. Nice to meet you, Lily.”
When he nodded silently in response, I paused and wondered if there was any way to diffuse the tension between us. But then Trevor nudged me with his arm and nodded in the direction Alex had taken. “I think I see Sasha with Alex. We should go say hello.”
When we turned to leave, I heard Ethan mutter under his breath, “Is there anyone here you haven’t fucked tonight?”
Trevor’s back went ramrod straight as my already unsettled stomach plummeted. From a distance it would look like a group of friends having an animated discussion. But nothing about Trevor’s voice was friendly as he taunted Ethan. “There are a few of us, Martin, but the night is still young.”
Without waiting for an answer, Trevor tugged me toward Alex and the entourage he had accumulated in our absence. Too numb to even question my friend’s possessive arm around my waist, I followed. For once, the lump in my throat couldn’t be blamed on the choking tie around my neck.
* * *
Two painfully long hours later I was backstage, pacing behind the curtain. The dinner had gone well, a true five-star meal, and the awards were winding down to the last few recipients of the night. When the runner had come to escort me behind the stage, Trevor squeezed my shoulder one last time in a silent show of support. My stomach had been too upset to drink much of anything, but now I would pay a king’s ransom for three fingers of scotch to numb me.
As the backstage director signaled for me to listen for my introduction, I took a deep breath, still totally clueless about what I was going to say about Ethan. I had researched everything I could find after Trevor had dropped the bomb on me. But at the moment my nerves were shot, and the only thing I could concentrate on was Ethan’s parting shot to me as we had walked away from him earlier.
“And now, here to present the award for Outstanding Pacific Northwest Rising Chef Award is James Lassiter. For those of you who have been under a rock these past few years, James was head chef at New York’s local gem, Cielo, for three years before taking to FoodTV with his show
Bistro Cooking:
Making French Cuisine Easy.
His latest book,
Spicing Up Your Table
, hit the New York Times Best Seller list immediately after its publication. Let’s give a warm welcome to our industry’s newest rising star.”
With my heart hammering as loudly as the applause surrounding me, the stage director pulled back the curtain and I found myself walking toward the microphone. As I looked out into the crowded room, the lights dimmed slightly, save for a spotlight on a table on the right-hand side near the back. Ethan looked pensive, but otherwise emotionless. For a moment, he reminded me of the Ethan Martin I’d known at the beginning of our pastry rotation—tough, independent and alone in his battle to prove his worth to the world.
Though I had distanced myself from everything my family stood for, the one thing being a Lassiter had prepared me for was how to smile as if your world wasn’t crashing around you and fake it through whatever you had to get through to seal a deal.
Chapter Seven
Ethan
I reached for my beer and took a long pull on it. The night had been destined for the shitter since Lily and I had entered the bar, and I was more than ready for it to be done so I could walk away and forget everything and everyone, including Jamie Lassiter.
Lily leaned over and put her hand on my thigh, squeezing lightly. Three hours ago her touch would have gotten us both into the back of a cab and on our way to my hotel. But right now, her gentle touch was merely a reminder I wasn’t alone in a room full of people I’d never feel comfortable around.
Suddenly a spotlight shone on our table and I tensed. Lily’s hand squeezed again as the next presenter made his way onstage. She leaned over and whispered in my ear, her usually husky voice surprisingly tender. “Good
When he nodded silently in response, I paused and wondered if there was any way to diffuse the tension between us. But then Trevor nudged me with his arm and nodded in the direction Alex had taken. “I think I see Sasha with Alex. We should go say hello.”
When we turned to leave, I heard Ethan mutter under his breath, “Is there anyone here you haven’t fucked tonight?”
Trevor’s back went ramrod straight as my already unsettled stomach plummeted. From a distance it would look like a group of friends having an animated discussion. But nothing about Trevor’s voice was friendly as he taunted Ethan. “There are a few of us, Martin, but the night is still young.”
Without waiting for an answer, Trevor tugged me toward Alex and the entourage he had accumulated in our absence. Too numb to even question my friend’s possessive arm around my waist, I followed. For once, the lump in my throat couldn’t be blamed on the choking tie around my neck.
* * *
Two painfully long hours later I was backstage, pacing behind the curtain. The dinner had gone well, a true five-star meal, and the awards were winding down to the last few recipients of the night. When the runner had come to escort me behind the stage, Trevor squeezed my shoulder one last time in a silent show of support. My stomach had been too upset to drink much of anything, but now I would pay a king’s ransom for three fingers of scotch to numb me.
As the backstage director signaled for me to listen for my introduction, I took a deep breath, still totally clueless about what I was going to say about Ethan. I had researched everything I could find after Trevor had dropped the bomb on me. But at the moment my nerves were shot, and the only thing I could concentrate on was Ethan’s parting shot to me as we had walked away from him earlier.
“And now, here to present the award for Outstanding Pacific Northwest Rising Chef Award is James Lassiter. For those of you who have been under a rock these past few years, James was head chef at New York’s local gem, Cielo, for three years before taking to FoodTV with his show
Bistro Cooking:
Making French Cuisine Easy.
His latest book,
Spicing Up Your Table
, hit the New York Times Best Seller list immediately after its publication. Let’s give a warm welcome to our industry’s newest rising star.”
With my heart hammering as loudly as the applause surrounding me, the stage director pulled back the curtain and I found myself walking toward the microphone. As I looked out into the crowded room, the lights dimmed slightly, save for a spotlight on a table on the right-hand side near the back. Ethan looked pensive, but otherwise emotionless. For a moment, he reminded me of the Ethan Martin I’d known at the beginning of our pastry rotation—tough, independent and alone in his battle to prove his worth to the world.
Though I had distanced myself from everything my family stood for, the one thing being a Lassiter had prepared me for was how to smile as if your world wasn’t crashing around you and fake it through whatever you had to get through to seal a deal.
Chapter Seven
Ethan
I reached for my beer and took a long pull on it. The night had been destined for the shitter since Lily and I had entered the bar, and I was more than ready for it to be done so I could walk away and forget everything and everyone, including Jamie Lassiter.
Lily leaned over and put her hand on my thigh, squeezing lightly. Three hours ago her touch would have gotten us both into the back of a cab and on our way to my hotel. But right now, her gentle touch was merely a reminder I wasn’t alone in a room full of people I’d never feel comfortable around.
Suddenly a spotlight shone on our table and I tensed. Lily’s hand squeezed again as the next presenter made his way onstage. She leaned over and whispered in my ear, her usually husky voice surprisingly tender. “Good
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