job. “Here, hop in the front seat,” I said pointing to Kyle’s car.
“Thanks.” She waved to Kyle and opened the door.
I got in the back and pulled my coat around me. Thank God for fake fur! It was so bitterly cold tonight that I felt justified in my extravagant purchase.
“Where’s Owen?” Kyle asked with concern as he pulled the car away from the curb. “Is he sick?”
“No,” Ade said as she crossed her long legs. “The babysitter is. The truth is that we really can’t afford to pay for one anyhow, so it’s probably for the best. He’ll go out another night.”
“That’s too bad.” Kyle turned up the radio. “Oh, I love this song!”
“Me, too!” Ade squealed.
I endured their enthusiastic, if tuneless, rendition of Aerosmith’s “Dream On” and momentarily felt like a child being chauffeured around by embarrassing parents. Fortunately, what came on next was an ear-piercing Mariah Carey song that neither of the front-seat karaoke singers wanted to attempt.
“Tonight is going to be fun, huh, ladies?” Kyle said happily. “I can’t wait to see how the food is. And everything inside will be new and decorated perfectly. This’ll be a blast!” Kyle pulled up to the valet-parking area in front of a tall building smack-dab in the middle of the financial district.
I had to wonder why Kyle was in such a great mood tonight. With a famous chef for a father, he must have been to tons of restaurant openings; it wasn’t as though tonight’s outing were a novel experience for him. I, on the other hand, was not a regular at these kinds of events. The last one I’d attended had been at Josh’s former restaurant, Simmer.
True to its name, the Penthouse was on the top floor of the building. The three of us rode up in a conspicuously modern elevator with mirrored walls surrounded by neon green lights. During the ride, I did my best not to check and recheck my appearance. When the doors opened, we stepped into a luxurious waiting area with rich brown leather seats and large potted plants. Although there was plenty of seating, a good-sized crowd stood there, the most notable member of which was a statuesque woman with a red shawl who was arguing with the hostess. By craning my neck, I managed to get a clear view of the hostess’s face and realized that she was none other than Georgie, Snacker’s girlfriend and Ellie’s best friend. Even though her pale skin was flushed with irritation, she looked striking. Her hair was especially lovely, short and blonde, styled off her face in soft curls.
“So what if I didn’t RSVP? I’m here now. Can you or can you not see this fricking invitation in my hand?” The irate guest waved a paper around wildly. “My best friend is one of your investors, and believe me, she is going to be furious if you don’t have me and my guests seated in the next five minutes.”
My, my. A quick glance around told me that there were a number of other diners who had also showed up without replying to the invitation. Kyle caught my eye and snickered at the crowd around us. He politely nudged his way through to the hostess and gave Georgie our names, eliciting a sigh of relief. Georgie caught my eye and waved briefly, beckoning me over. She was probably thrilled to have at least a few people here who had RSVP’d and could be seated at a table.
Ade and I followed Kyle and Georgie through the immense dining area. An extraordinary amount of work had clearly gone into decorating the restaurant: the walls were a warm champagne color, small drop lights hung from the ceiling and spotlighted each table, light bamboo floors gave a feeling of airiness, and more large tropical palms were in abundance in the main room. The effect was stylish and romantic.
Georgie’s attitude did not, however, match the decor. She stomped midway across the room, abruptly stopped at a table for four, slapped the menus down, and exhaled loudly. “Hey, Chloe, sorry about the mob up front. Nobody knows what the hell is going on or where anything is. This is an effing fiasco.” She thrust a hand onto her hip and watched as we took our seats. “There aren’t enough menus, so you’ll have to share. And I’m sorry to tell you that Ellie is going to be your server tonight. Good luck.” With that, she turned and marched back to the hostess stand.
Ade scooted her chair in. “Well, isn’t she charming? Who was that?”
“That is Georgie, Snacker’s girlfriend,” I explained. “She certainly looks stressed out.”
“No matter,” Kyle said cheerfully, shaking his napkin out and setting it formally in his lap. “I’m sure they’ll work out the kinks. Oh, it seems I’m missing a fork. And a spoon. Here, Chloe, you take one menu, and I’ll share with Adrianna.”
“Thanks, Kyle.” I smiled and took the menu from his hand.
I alternated between reading the menu and sneaking peeks around the room to see whether Josh was here. Where would he be sitting? There was no sign of him at any of the tables, but his presence was evident on the menu. I glared at the laminated page in my hand. “Vegetable Spring Rolls with Mango Sauce and Sweet Soy.” That was Josh’s dish. In fact, those spring rolls were one of the first things Josh had ever made for me, and they were goddamn outstanding: thick fried rolls stuffed with tons of shredded vegetables and seasoned with a spice blend that Josh had kept a mystery even from me. I was pissed. And then I saw that another dish, “Clams in a Spicy Orange Bouillon,” was also his! I slapped the menu down on my plate.
“Chloe?” Ade looked at me with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, sorry. Everything is fine. Just trying to decide what to order.”
I was fuming. It seemed to me that as the executive chef, Snacker should be coming up with his own dishes and not stealing from other chefs. Snacker had done more than learn from Josh; he’d copied Josh’s recipes. Snacker was a decent chef, but he was no Josh. Or Digger. I hated to think it, but if Snacker was filching Josh’s dishes, just how ambitious was he? Maybe more than I’d thought. Maybe he’d been willing to do whatever it took to get Digger’s job.
SIXTEEN
“GOOD evening. Can I take your drink orders? Oh, Chloe! Hi.” Ellie stood by our table.
“Ellie, it’s good to see you,” I said tentatively. I hadn’t forgotten that she was capable of launching into four- letter-word tirades with no notice.
“Wonderful!” She beamed too broadly and flipped her full head of hair to the side. She’d clearly just reapplied her bright lipstick. I couldn’t help staring at the thick paste on her lips. “I’m glad you could make it. So, would you like some wine to start with while you go over the menu?”
“Actually, I’m ready to order,” Kyle said. “Are you ladies ready, too?”
Adrianna nodded, and I shrugged. “Sure,” I said. My mood was going downhill by the minute. At the moment, I didn’t particularly care about the food. “Why don’t you start?”
“We seem to be missing some silverware,” said Kyle, pointing to the table. “When you have a chance, maybe we could get some more?”
“Absolutely!” Ellie said enthusiastically.
I paid almost no attention to what my dinner companions ordered or even to my own choices. I watched Ellie as she walked away. She seemed to be trying too hard tonight. Her chipper attitude struck me as a front. Adrianna and Kyle were too engaged in nonstop conversation with each other to notice either Ellie’s hyped-up state or my own odd mood. Although I was happy that Ade was enjoying her rare night out, I was so distracted by hoping for-or dreading?-a Josh sighting that I limited myself to meaningless nods and smiles.
Our appetizers arrived and proved to be mediocre at best, or so I thought. When Kyle declared the cold potato cakes delightful, I refrained from pointing out that they were supposed to be hot; I was once again less than impressed with the cookbook writer’s palate. With a knowing look, Adrianna gave me a taste of her tuna carpaccio with wasabi cream, a dish that should have been really hard to screw up but was somehow flavorless. My Mediterranean shrimp were not tremendously Mediterranean, but they were edible.
“How’s the shrimp, Chloe? Should we try for this recipe for the book?” Kyle lifted his eyebrows in question.
“Um, maybe. Let’s see what else we try tonight, and then we can decide,” I said. Ade and Kyle seemed to be having such a good time that I avoided pointing out obvious flaws. Besides, I was still wondering where Josh was. I had on this damn dress, and I intended to have him see me in it! He just had to be here, if not at a table, maybe at the bar? In the kitchen? Having run out of patience, I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. Ladies’ room trip or covert spy mission to locate a hot ex-same thing, right?
