Page 13 of Bad Seed

He pocketed his phone the minute he saw it was her, and when she headed toward him with a smirk on her face, he knew from past experience that he was going to have to fight his way out.

“How about a little quickie? We could always stopthe car,” she whispered, and put her hands on his chest and leaned in to him. She was reaching below his belt when he grabbed her wrists, spun her into the corner, and pinned her hands above her head.

The tone of his voice was flat and as emotionless as his expression. “What’s the matter with you? No means no.”

She laughed. “I want what I want. A fight just makes everything better.”

“You’re not getting anything from me, including that fight. Grow the hell up,” he said, and turned her loose.

She turned on the tears, and slipped the whiny baby tone into her voice. “Why are you so mean? I just want to be friends,” she said.

“I’m not mean, and turn off the tears. They’re fake and so are you. You don’t want a friend. You want to get laid and that’s not happening. Not with me. You’ve been stalking me for months like some hooker on a street corner trying to score an easy fifty on Saturday night. I’m telling you for the last time…leave me the hell alone.”

Her face was twisted with rage as she pulled a knife out of her pocket and swung it at his face.

Shocked, he jumped back. The knife missed his face, but left a long ugly scratch down the side of his neck.

He knocked the knife out of her hand and slammed her against the back wall of the elevator just as the doors opened.

Justine was screaming obscenities and scrambling for the knife when he punched a random number on the panel and leaped out just as the doors were closing. He could hear her screaming and cursing as the doors went shut.

He was holding a handkerchief to his neck as he walked into the kitchen.

“Brendan! What the hell?” Chef Randolph cried.

“Justine. Swung a knife at my face and missed,” he muttered.

“Oh my God! That does it! Someone needs to tell Ray about this!” he said.

Brendan shook his head. “No, that’s the last thing Ray needs to know. Her father is the one who needs to tie a knot in her chain, but he’s oblivious.”

“Go down to the break room. I’ll make a call to see if the EMTs will make a house call,” Randolph said.

Brendan nodded, but skipped the elevator and took the stairs down. He was in the break room when the EMTs arrived.

“It’s not deep, but I probably need a tetanus shot, and I can’t work in the kitchen with an open wound. Can you bandage me up?” he asked.

“Do we need to know how this happened?” one of the EMTs asked.

“Probably not,” Brendan said. “And whatever you do, don’t tell my brothers.”

***

After that, he started taking the stairs to evade her. And that was a month ago. Now when they saw each other, if looks could kill, Brendan would already be dead.

None of the staff liked her. She stomped through the hotel demanding this, and complaining about that, and then obviously repeating her complaints to her father. Larry would appear soon afterward, chiding them for mistreating the guests, when in truth, he was referring to his daughter’s imaginary mistreatment.

***

But today, Justine Beaumont was the last thing on Brendan’s mind as he hurried into the staff entrance, stored his helmet and jacket in his locker, and then took the staff elevator up to the floor where he worked.

Within minutes, he was in the baking area, suited up in a snow-white chef’s jacket and baker’s cap, overseeing the fresh batches of breads and rolls coming out of the ovens, making sure there were plenty on hand for the noon crowd, and starting more dough to rise for the dinner crowd tonight. Once he was satisfied all that was in progress, he began checking the quality of various desserts for the dessert carts and pulling pastries from the coolers to put his finishing touches on them for tonight. It was business as usual, with waiters coming and going with orders, and the staff from room service coming to pick up orders to be delivered. They wereracing to get the orders ready for a table of twelve when they got a room service order from the penthouse.

As always, the picky details of what Justine wanted to eat irked Thomas Randolph, the hotel’s chef de cuisine. She’d just ordered shrimp puttanesca, even though it wasn’t on the lunch menu, and pecan pie, which also wasn’t on the menu.

Chef Randolph banged a pan and cursed aloud. And when one of the kitchen staff went to the pastry area about the pie, Brendan just shrugged it off.

“We don’t have pecan pie on the menu anymore, and haven’t had it for nearly a year,” he said. “Just call her back and ask for another choice.”

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