Page 30 of Until August
“Unless you think there’s something I should know?” Again, not the best way to conduct an interview.
He pressed his lips together and shook his head as if he couldn’t find any possible reason I shouldn’t hire him.
“Okay, great.” We discussed salary and benefits. I could only afford to pay him what I’d been paying Aimee. I wasn’t sure what he’d been earning in LA, but he accepted my offer without quibbling over the numbers.
“I only have three rules.” I felt almost silly mentioning them. August wasn’t a high school kid or fresh out of culinary school. He was older and more experienced than my other employees and would have more seniority. But I told him the same thing I’d told them. “No drugs. No stealing. And no lying.”
August cleared his throat. “Not a problem.”
“Okay, good. I just…” I let out a breath and once again felt the need to explain myself. “We’ll be working together closely, and I need someone I can rely on. I just really need to know that I can trust you.” I heard the vulnerability in my voice and wanted to rescind my words, but I’d meant them, and he needed to know where I stood.
His piercing green eyes studied my face, and I wondered what he saw there. I almost squirmed under the scrutiny, but I held his gaze for what felt like hours but was probably only a few seconds.
He took his time answering as if he wanted to give gravitas to his words rather than rushing in to reassure me.
“I’ll do everything I can to help you achieve your dreams, Nicola.”
My brow furrowed. I wasn’t sure how we’d gone from trust and reliability to dreams. “My dreams?” I questioned.
“You want a Michelin star.” His shoulder lifted in a shrug as if the answer was obvious.
“I never told you that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Earlier, while doing prep work, we’d talked about what I needed in a sous chef and the changes I wanted to make for the restaurant. At the time, it had seemed premature, considering that I hadn’t offered him a job yet. But he’d put two and two together and came up with five.
“It used to be my dream,” I admitted, twiddling the pen between my fingers to keep my hands occupied. “I had a list of goals I wanted to accomplish, but life got in the way. So I pretty much gave up on it.” After I lost Cruz, I felt guilty for ever having cared about something so frivolous, so I shoved my dreams into a box and sealed it.
“Keep it on your list,” August said, exuding enough confidence to make me believe anything he said. “I’ll do everything I can to help you get it.”
He made it sound like my plans for the restaurant and my dreams mattered to him.
“Like I said, I don’t care about it anymore.” Even I could hear the lie in my voice, and I almost resented him for resurrecting an old dream and making it seem possible.
He dropped the subject and moved on, leaning forward in his seat to get his point across. “Back to what you said earlier. I’m always the first one in and the last one out. I work hard. I don’t do drugs. I’m dependable and reliable, and I’ll never leave you hanging.” He reeled off all the reasons why he was the perfect fit for the job, stating them as fact rather than making it sound like he was trying to sell himself. “If I say I’m going to do something, you can be damn sure I’ll do it. And as for trust, it’s not given freely. It has to be earned. But I promise I’ll do everything possible to earn your trust.” He looked me in the eye, his gaze unwavering. “I won’t let you down, Nicola.”
That was quite a speech. But his voice rang with so much sincerity that I couldn’t help but believe him. Not to mention he’d said all the right things.
Who wouldn’t want to hear the words,I won’t let you down, Nicola.
Maybe hiring August was exactly what I needed to help me turn this restaurant around. Not that my restaurant was failing. It was still busy most nights and was turning a profit. But over the past two years, I hadn’t devoted the same care and attention I had in the first two years. If that critic was to be believed, it showed.
So it was time to up my game and turn this restaurant into something I could be proud of again. It wasn’t enough for my food to be justgood. I wanted it to be amazing. I wanted to reclaim the sheer joy and excitement, the buzz I used to get every time I set foot in a kitchen.
“So, what do you want to work on first?” August asked as if he was ready to tackle it all tonight, and he had all the time in the world to do it.
“The menu,” I said without hesitation.
He grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Good. Because I have some ideas.”
He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, like nothing excited him more than creating a new menu. His enthusiasm was so contagious that I didn’t even feel tired anymore. “I don’t just want to serve food,” I said, warming to the subject.
“You want to create an experience.”
“Exactly. One that customers will remember long after they leave the restaurant.”
“You want to create magic.”
