Page 5 of The One I Hate
Billy is the definition of a nepotism hire. He’s never had to work for anything, only got into culinary school because of his last name, and thinks his shit doesn’t stink—in and out of the kitchen. He’s the literal worst.
Oh, and he has a crush on me. And not a cute, shy, doesn’t-know-what-to-say crush—he’s got the always hits on me, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer kind.
“This fucking sucks,” I say, throwing my head back. “Everything just fucking sucks.”
“I’ve looked hard for a silver lining, but I can’t find it right now,” Mellie says, patting my knee in an attempt to comfort me. I appreciate her effort, but the only thing that will work is a restart to this day.
Or maybe this year.
Scratch that. The past fifteen years.
“Want to dream?” she asks, a smile growing on her face.
I nod, knowing exactly what she’s doing. And it’s exactly what I need. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” she says as we scooch our crates closer together and join hands. “Close your eyes and tell me all about it.”
A tear nearly comes to my eye as I envision the restaurant I want to someday open. Mellie is one of three people who knows my dream. And she only knows it because of a box of wine in a weak moment.
“A diner,” I begin. “Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and pastries.”
“Best damn pastries in Tennessee, made by yours truly.”
This makes me smile. “It’s going to be small and intimate. A hundred people, max. Blue booths. Pops of color that liven up the place. White walls. A place where people can go and enjoy a meal that won’t break their bank but will leave them satisfied.”
“But not so satisfied that people won’t want dessert.”
“Exactly. In between meals, people will come in for coffee and pastries. Book clubs will bring tables together for their meetings. Writers will use it for their offices. People will say ‘let’s meet over lunch’ and they’ll come to my place. And it will be perfect.”
To some industry professionals, a restaurant like that might seem lame or easy. I don’t care. This restaurant is my dream. Everything over the last fifteen years has been fueled with this goal in mind.
Except it feels so far away that most days I think I should stop trying.
“It’s going to be amazing,” Mellie says, patting my hand as I open my eyes. “I’m going to make so many cakes. And cupcakes. And cinnamon rolls. My cinnamon rolls are so good.”
I laugh. “Well, don’t hold your breath. The way things are going, we’re going to be working for Billy’s children.”
“Gross,” Mellie says. “That means Billy had?—”
Mellie’s words trail off as we both shiver. Because that thought is disgusting.
“No,” Mellie says, shaking her head. “We can’t be here that long. I’m going to manifest this to speed up, because the thought of working for Billy, or Mr. Napoli, for the rest of my life is the actual worst. Are you any closer to finding anything?”
I shake my head. “No. I have the money. Or at least, a little. I think. But I can’t find the right space. It’s either too big, too expensive, or, if it’s in my price range, it’s a piece of shit.”
“Have you tried looking out of town?”
I nod. “Yeah, but nothing has popped up yet. And even if it did, I have Connor and Lila to think about.”
She nods her head, knowing my situation isn’t normal. Because how many thirty-five-year-old single women do you know that live with their brother and his daughter?
“I wish I could help,” Mellie laments.
“No,” I say. “I never asked you to do that. Hell, I’m scared asking you to jump ship when you have a steady job.”
Mellie shakes her head. “You think I can survive in this place without you? Absolutely not. I go where you go, lady.”
I don’t know what I did to deserve this woman. We both got hired when Napoli’s expanded into the catering business, me to handle the banquet menu and Mellie to handle the pastries. We’ve been through it all together. I know all of her secrets, and she knows all of mine.
