In the Fire by Eileen Griffin, Nikka Michaels Page B

I tamped shit down and got myself back under control. I wasn’t going to give anyone here the benefit of seeing any of the bullshit emotions swirling inside me right now. I straightened my back and looked out into the crowded ballroom. I swallowed back my confusion, but my voice betrayed me when I heard it in my own ears, low and husky, full of emotion I couldn’t seem to mask right now.
    “I’m not good with speaking in front of people. I’m pretty sure I would have failed my Communications project if my professor hadn’t been okay with a few
fucks
thrown in to help make it more colorful.”
    The audience laughed and I tightened my fingers around the cold statue in my hands. “I don’t do what I do to get recognized. I do it because it matters. I cook because I love it. Thanks to everyone in the American Culinary Arts committee for this award and to everyone else involved with tonight’s ceremony.”
    Without a backward glance I left the stage, finally taking a breath once the curtain hid me from everyone’s view. I heard an all-too-familiar voice call out my name behind me, but I kept walking until I made it back to the ballroom, zeroing in on the bar set up in the back of the room before anyone could stop me. I needed another drink and a smoke before I lost my shit completely.
    After I gave my order of two Jack and Cokes to the bartender, I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. I felt claustrophobic, so I yanked the stupid tux tie off and threw it to the floor. I couldn’t have cared less whether it made its way back to the rental place after tonight. I needed to get outside and in fresh air. I downed one of the drinks immediately and slammed the empty glass back on the portable bar in front of me. Before I could question whether this was a good choice, I tightened my hand around the second glass and closed my eyes, easily dismissing the surprised look on the stuffy bartender’s face.
    Jamie’s speech echoed in my mind, a never-ending loop of all the things he should have kept to himself.
Congratulations
,
Ethan.
You deserve it.
All of it.
He didn’t know me. Didn’t know anything about me. Eight years was too fucking long for him to pretend he was proud of me now.
    I walked straight to the back entrance and slipped out the door without a backward glance at the awards ceremony that was quickly winding down. A few turns and a lot more curses later, I found the doors to the small terrace that bordered the ballroom. I pushed through and made a beeline for the empty terrace. As the cold March air hit me, it didn’t take me long to realize why I was the only idiot stupid enough to be outside.
    With shaky hands, I dug my cigarettes out of my jacket pocket and finally got one lit. I took a long drag and leaned against the railing, staring down at my second drink. Tamping down the urge to throw it against the wall behind me, I tilted my head back and drained the whiskey. I didn’t want to go back inside, but my body was already jonesing for another round of liquid fortifier.
    “Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” Jamie said from behind me.
    “Not by a long shot, Golden Boy. I doubt I could ever drink enough to get rid of you.” Unable to stop myself from being a complete dick, I turned and took the drink out of his hands. The stunned expression on his face when I finished the last of his scotch was priceless. The burn was barely perceptible as the liquid slid down my throat, probably a sign I should quit, but I didn’t really care right now.
    “Ethan, why are you doing this? Can’t we just talk for a minute?”
    I laughed bitterly, trying to focus on a blurry Lassiter. “What do you want to talk about, Golden Boy? Your latest TV show? How about your book? Better yet, how about your parade of rich and famous boyfriends?”
    I paused and looked inside the glass I was holding, Lassiter’s glass, and bit out a curse when I realized it was empty. “We have nothing to say to each other