Page 3 of The Loophole

“It has to happen now.”

“Yes.”

“Way to save it for the last minute.”

“Like I said, I had every intention of telling my grandfather what he could do with his ultimatum. But things changed six months ago, and then it took me three or four months to resign myself to this fate,” he said. “I’ve been scrambling ever since.”

“What happened six months ago?”

“My restaurant closed.” He slumped in his chair and looked utterly defeated. “I put everything I had into making it work. Everything. And it failed anyway.”

“That really sucks.”

“I was sure I could make a go of it. I’d attended an excellent culinary school, staged at world class restaurants in the U.S. and Europe?—”

I asked, “What does that word mean?”

“Which one?”

“Stahj.”

“It’s an unpaid internship, and a real honor. Basically, a chef allows you into their kitchen to learn their methods, and I learned from some of the best.”

“So, what’s next? What are you going to do if and when you get your inheritance?”

He sat up straighter and knit his brow. “I’m going to try again. It’ll be different this time. I learned from my mistakes, and I know how to make my next restaurant better.”

“We’re talking fine dining here, right?”

“Right.”

“It must cost a fortune to open a place like that.”

Now he looked suspicious. “If you’re wondering about the size of my inheritance, please don’t try to wring more money out of me. The amount is barely going to cover the cost of building a new restaurant from the ground-up. Besides, I think a hundred grand—along with a monthly stipend—is pretty generous.”

“I agree. I’m very happy with that amount.”

“Not that I’m hiring you.”

“I’m perfect, though. I’m cute, and your family will love me. Unless they’re homophobic.”

“They’re not.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Even if some people discover they’re gay or bisexual later in life, I don’t know why my grandfather would buy it.”

I raised a brow. “So, you don’t think you could sell it? Because I sure as hell could.”

“You think you want this because you’re seeing dollar signs, but you haven’t thought it through,” he said. “It’s a year of your life we’re talking about. You’d have to move in with me and attend several family events. Plus, you couldn’t date anyone, because I’d be worried about it getting back to my grandfather.”

“I’d be sad about moving out of where I’m living. But if the ‘stipend’ part of this deal is enough to cover my rent, I can hold on to my room and go back when the year was up.”

“I was thinking a thousand dollars a month in cash to cover expenses for the duration of the agreement, if we were actually going to do this. Which we’re not.”

“That would cover it with plenty left over for me to live on. One thing—I have a dog and there’s no way I’m leaving him behind when I move in with you. Is that a problem?”

“I like dogs, but you’re not moving in.”

---