Page 43 of Julien (Confessions 2)

“Are you ready to get started?” Gail asked. “I thought we could get the interview out of the way and then I’ll take a look around.”

“Oui, that’s what I’d thought too.”

“Fantastic. Then let’s begin.”

For the next thirty or so minutes, Gail asked him all the standard questions.

What made him pick Chicago as the third JULIEN location? This was easily answered simply but vaguely: “I wanted a change and decided to move out here. It was a no-brainer to open a new JULIEN location when I realized I would be staying.”

Was he now going to be permanently based out of Chicago as opposed to L.A., where his career took off?

Again, simple enough.

“Yes. I don’t really enjoy flying, so for the time being, I have an extremely talented gentleman, Louis, as my executive chef, who is more than capable of running the show for me back in L.A.”

Did he attribute his restaurants’ successes to his fame or the quality of the meals served there? Okay, this one took every PR lesson he’d ever been given back in the day to bite his tongue because…how insulting. Nonetheless, he wasn’t the same man he’d been years ago when he blurted out whatever he wanted, and he wouldn’t do that tonight.

“I believe the restaurants each speak for themselves. The food is superb and our chefs cook nothing but the absolute best in refined European cuisine. We have a world-class cellar in each of our locations, and you won’t find more gracious hospitality than that of the staff at any of the JULIEN locations.”

“If they’re anything like the owner, I believe you,” Gail said, sending a winning smile his way.

Flirting wasn’t going to work with him, though, not when she’d just implied his restaurants were mainly popular due to his celebrity status. Julien ground his teeth together. “Merci.”

“I have to confess,” Gail went on, “that French accent makes it very difficult to concentrate whenever it slips through. I know I’m not the only one who thinks so, either. It would be remiss of me not to talk to you about your run on Chef Master, where you gained a rather large following. And if I’m not mistaken, ninety percent of those were females, were they not?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Julien said, and made sure to add a smile, even though he really couldn’t have cared less, considering he would’ve preferred his following to be one hundred percent male.

“Well, if I’m honest, I can certainly see why. Not only are you a world-class chef who has trained all around the globe with some of the greats, you’re also handsome, smart, and have a delicious accent.”

Julien shifted on his seat a little, feeling more uncomfortable with this line of questioning than he had the ones regarding the restaurant. Whenever reporters started in on his time on Chef Master, and consequently his status as a sex symbol, things usually turned personal. They wanted to know things like: was he single? Or they inevitably brought up—

“Your family. Let’s talk about them for a minute,” Gail said, and Julien felt his stomach drop to his feet. What was she doing? She’d been sent the privacy agreement. She knew the rules. Why was she bringing this up? But even as he sat there mute, Gail just kept right on talking. “They must be very proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished since that first episode, which aired, what is it, nearly eight years ago?”

Julien looked across the table at Gail and swore he could’ve counted each of her eyelashes, he was staring at her so hard, and when he still didn’t answer, she tried a different tactic.

“What about siblings?” Gail asked when it became clear he wasn’t going to answer, or was incapable of answering her—because right now, Julien felt as though his throat was closing in on itself. “Are you an only child? Or do you have brothers and sisters you show off to or compete with? I’m notorious for rubbing my accomplishments in my brother’s face.”

And that was it. That was all Julien could take.

“Stop talking,” he said in a voice that was barely audible, but Gail? She must’ve sensed she’d crossed a line or trodden on a landmine, because she zipped her lips quick. “This interview, it’s over.”

“Excuse me?” Gail said, but Julien was already sliding out of his seat and gripping the edge of the table as he got to his feet.

Once he was upright, he made sure to hold on to the back of the booth because his knees felt as though they were about to give out on him at any moment. “The interview. I’m canceling it. You can leave now.”

Julien knew he was being unbearably rude, but he didn’t give a fuck. He needed her to get out before he totally lost it and passed out at her feet, which he was in real danger of doing.

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