Page 32 of About That Night

“Anything. I could fry the lint on this shirt, and it would taste amazing.” I reach out and pluck an errant fuzzy off of the sleeve of the shirt.

Chastity jumps and jerks back.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were a bug brushing me.”

But she’s lying, and we both know it.

Chapter Nine

Hank

Chastity looks uncomfortable using the mandolin, but she’s trying her best to shred the carrots. She keeps contorting her face into various expressions, ranging from tentativeness to concern to triumph. It’s pretty clear Chastity doesn’t cook.

But as I turn the goat cheese in my frying pan, I give her the benefit of the doubt. “Do you cook much?” I ask her.

“No. I want to be the mom who whips up healthy and gourmet meals for my son, but I’m always pressed for time. I have budget constraints too, so usually I just try to get it basic but healthy. Grilled chicken, vegetables, sweet potatoes.”

That sounds healthy, but sad. “I can show you a few tricks and tips to mix it up. It’s all about the seasoning.”

“When did you know you wanted to be a chef?” she asks, flicking an errant carrot off of her finger into the sink.

“I guess around twenty-two. Growing up with my siblings was great, but it seemed like they all had a passion and knew what they wanted to do. I never did, and it made me feel like there was something wrong with me. My sister is a doctor. George is an optometrist. Then of course, there’s Cash. We all knew in high school he had the ability to go pro. Being sandwiched between all of them wasn’t easy. In school, it was like "Oh, here is the Young kid with the least potential.” I use my spatula to roll the goat cheese. “You heard those kayakers today. They wanted to bring up every dumb thing I’ve ever done. No one ever brings up dumb shit Cash has done.”

“What dumb things has Cash done?”

I grin. “Nothing. He’s the perfect son, the bastard. Though he did knock up an older woman when it was supposed to just be a weekend thing in Mexico. The baby is actually due in two weeks.”

“Really? How are they handling that?”

“In a very Cash way.” I switch the heat off and turn to the lettuce. “He married her, and they seem really damn happy, actually. They’re raising her kids on his ranch and by all accounts are thrilled they’re having a baby.”

Chastity aggressively shreds the hell out of the carrot in her hand. “She’s lucky to find a man like Cash. Not all guys are ready to take on responsibility.”

I want to ask her about Josiah’s father, but I have a feeling the answer is going to piss me off. I don’t want to ruin our little time together by seething over a dude who shirked his responsibility. It’s also her story to share, or not.

“No, I suppose not,” I say. “So anyway, I always felt like the fuck-up kid. Nothing was that interesting to me. Until I had a friend who came back home after going to culinary school in New Orleans, and I thought it might be something I’d like. Turns out, I love it.”

“Food is chemistry,” she says, with a smile in my direction.

“What?” I pause in the middle of tossing baby greens in a bowl.

“You told me that. In New Orleans. That night. Food is chemistry.”

I can’t believe she remembers I said that. “Exactly. And food is pleasure.”

She sets the mandolin down and goes to wash her hands. “Sometimes it’s a substitute for other things.”

“Like what?” I’m not bringing up sex again.

Chastity shrugs. She dries her hands on my kitchen towel.

Finishing the salad, I plate it and set them down at the table. We sit across from each other and eat in silence for a minute or two before I can’t help myself.

“Why were you in my room that night all those years ago?” I ask. Nothing about her now seems to fit with a girl lying naked in wait for me. “The answer doesn’t matter. I’m just curious.”

She winces. “It’s going to sound so stupid. Everything I did at eighteen sounds stupid because it was stupid.”

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