Page 4 of Challenged By You
“I look forward to hearing from my executive chef, then.” Without another word, Chef Palazzo disconnects the call.
“Jesus,” Karlson mutters. “Is she always like that?”
“Like what?” I ask, sitting back crossing one leg over the other.
“Intimidating? Kind of makes your balls draw up inside in fear.”
Having enjoyed the company of all the owners when I visited the flagship Seduction restaurant, I can say with all honesty, “Her husband certainly doesn’t think so.”
Karlson blinks. “She’s married?”
Nodding, I name the very famous celebrity chef Mia Palazzo’s been married to for the last six years. “Jesus, no wonder why you were so all fired up to have me make that call,” he jokes.
Looking him dead in the eye, I say flatly, “No, I had you make that call because I respect the food I ate—and the people who prepared it—too much.” Shoving to my feet, I make my way to the door.
“Jonas! I swear, it was an honest mistake. You know Chelsea didn’t mean any harm when she was proofing for you. She was up all night before with the baby, otherwise…”
I feel a modicum of softening because my younger cousin is suffering alone with the agony of her third child teething while her husband is overseas on business. It was an honest mistake, however, this mistake ultimately lands on Karlson as the editor-in-chief, and me as the columnist, to fix.
“I know. Let’s make it right and get the correction made within a half an hour, Uncle Karlson.” As frustrated as he makes me, I owe the man in front of me everything. Karlson—and before she passed away, his wife, Lucy—raised Julian and me from the time we were six. Like every other member of our family, there’s been nothing else I’ve ever wanted to do. Four years at NYU with a dual degree in journalism and hospitality management, while randomly failing cooking classes where I could at least appreciate what I needed flavor-wise to start the small column atCity Lightsall those years ago. I know Karlson gave me the chance, much like he gave one to Julian and Chelsea, because we’re family—hisfamily. The only family he has left. And knowing that I still struggle every single morning. Because I’m not entirely certain I deserve it.
I never expected my career to take off the way it did after I submitted my first review fourteen years ago. I expected Karlson to reassign me to be some beat journalist and to be appreciative of it. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect chefs like Mia Palazzo or one of hundreds of the chefs who welcome me into their restaurants would do so willingly. But like some of the food I’ve had to choke down over the years, the struggle of what I owe Karlson and the guilt I feel leaves me off-balance. It’s in these moments it’s easier to hide my emotions and retreat. Doing so, I leave him sputtering behind me.
I’m oblivious as I make my way over to my brother’s barely used office to wait for the website to be updated. I’m just damn grateful we only print once a week due to subscription decline. Otherwise, this would have been an even worse nightmare to deal with.
* * *
Within the hour,I’m escorted to the back kitchens of Seduction New York by a very wary hostess. “Are you certain you want to see Chef Spencer? Today?” Her voice is tremulous at best as she pushes the swinging door inward.
I open my mouth to reassure her when I hear the thunderous yelling followed by an eerie silence. My eyes narrow as I glimpse Chef Spencer storm off to a glass-walled office followed by a slim blonde who’s visibly trembling.I wonder if Mia knows about this, I think grimly to myself. Turning to relieve the hostess, I quickly realize I’m too late as she’s already darting back toward the front of the restaurant.
Silently, I prowl toward the executive chef’s office in time for him to aim a crumpled printout at the woman, which fortunately misses and instead strikes the glass behind her. His voice is condescending when he quotes what I wrote, “‘Was it supposed to have a touch of sweetness? It’s hard to say as half of it had been simmered in matcha sauce to an unrecognizable mush.’”
The blonde defends herself. “We don’t use matcha here at Seduction, sir. It’s not on the approved—”
“I know what’s fucking approved to be served!” he bellows. Quickly I put two and two together. This is the executive pastry chef being berated about the mess I was served at Super Sticky. But the woman doesn’t back down. In fact, she gets in Chef Spencer’s face before she flies out the door. Charging forward blindly, she bounces off me. I’m close enough to see the tears in her eyes as she storms past.
I can’t wait to slap this corrected review into Spencer’s hand knowing Chef Palazzo is going to tear her executive chef into pieces. And since I was advised to have him immediately call his boss, I’ll enjoy watching him listen as I tell her he just cost Seduction the difference between an almost perfect review and a solid one because he shoved their advantage out the door.
I knock on the edge of the jamb.
Spencer whirls around. “Who the hell let you back here?” he bites out.
“I was requested to deliver something to you personally at the request of Chef Palazzo,” I say mildly.
I take enjoyment over the way his face pales as I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a plain white envelope. Nodding, I encourage him gently, “Go ahead.”
Fingers trembling, he tears open the back. Quickly scanning the single sheet, Spencer’s jaw hangs open. “What…this can’t be right?” Without another word, he whirls to his desktop and pulls up the website. “No,” he moans. His eyes dart to the door. “I’ve got to go get Paxton.” He makes a dash for the door.
“Actually.” I step in front of the exit to block it. His eyes are wild as he tries to see past me into the kitchen. “I promised your boss you would call her immediately once I delivered that into your hands. After what I just overheard, I look forward to that more than ever.”
His face pales before he takes a threatening step forward. “Who the hell are you?”
I smooth my jacket down and adjust my cuffs before I offer my name. “Jonas Rice.”
It does my soul a great deal of pleasure to hear his indrawn breath. “Now, Chef, I suggest calling your boss. She’s waiting.”
With trembling hands, Spencer presses Speaker on the handset on his desk. Pressing another button, the number begins to dial. Mia answers without preamble, “Is Rice there? Was the retraction printed?”
