Chapter 2: Stirring The Pot
1239 Words
Jamie coughed so hard, he was ninety percent sure some wine went into his lungs. Smooth. Nothing says “totally not lying” like almost drowning in a Pinot Noir.
“Oh, uh… yeah,” Jamie stuttered as he cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’re more like… distant relatives. Like, emotionally. And geographically. And, um… genealogically.”
Ricco sat back in his chair with a glass of wine in his hand and his eyes on Jamie like a chef would size up a questionable soufflé. He said slowly, "Interesting." Ricco's phone buzzed on the table, and Jamie hoped the conversation would shift to something more secure, like the weather or cheese.
Jamie assumed his Italian utterance was either "This is infuriating" or "I need more cheese" as he glanced at the screen and sighed. Ricco said suddenly, "You're coming with me tomorrow."
Jamie blinked. “To… where?”
“A charity brunch for the Manhattan Culinary Society. I need someone who can take notes, manage my schedule, and stop me from throwing artisanal jam at anyone who uses the phrase ‘elevated comfort food.’”
Jamie’s brain screamed, You have no idea how to do that. But his mouth betrayed him. “Absolutely. My specialty.”
***
Early the following day, Jamie wore regret like a suit, wishing there was an easier way to pull it off, now.
To start with, what Ricco stepped into wasn't a car but a sleek black machine that purred through a sound engine. This made Jamie feel like he ought to be in a sleek attire with dark designer sunglasses and Rolex wristwatch to match.
“You drive this every day?” Jamie asked, trying to keep his cool and not seem overly excited.
“Only when I'm not riding my bicycle, Ricco responded..
“Right. Casual.”
Jamie's nerves skyrocketed the moment they got to the venue of the brunch. The room had the aura of the elite in the culinary society. Top notch event with champagne served for everyone.
Jamie was lost. Overtaken by the warm sophisticated welcome he received because of Ricco's presence. Hand shakes and kisses flooded on both Jamie’s and Ricco's cheeks. Jamie remained static, presenting a fake smile across his face and forgot how to respond.
Then it happened.
“Marco!”
Jamie was petrified.
“I learnt you quit the kitchen!” A tall, silver-haired man, wearing a navy-colored suit was walking toward them. "What brings you here?" He continued.
Jamie laughed, a laugh that could only be described as emotionally unstable. “I… I’m not.”
Ricco cut in, to save the situation, his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “He’s Marco’s cousin, Jamie. He’s helping me, now..”
“Ah! Family! Well, just know that Ricco will work you to the bone.” He winked and raised up his glass of champagne to Jamie and strolled away. Jamie felt relieved to be saved by Leo.
****
Jamie was starving by the time brunch was over. Which was ironic, given they’d just been surrounded by food which were tiny portions of things that looked like gift items in jewelry boxes.
Jamie dropped on the couch, exhausted, at Ricco's apartment. "I think I burned over a thousand calories trying to avoid a mess around wealthy people."
Ricco smiled while loosening his tie. "You composed yourself well."
Jamie blinked. “I… did?”
“You smiled at the right people. You didn’t correct anyone’s French. And you managed to stand still while the Dean of the Culinary Institute described how he forages for ethically enlightened mushrooms.”
“That’s… a skill?” Jamie asked.
“In my world? Yes.”
Ricco's phone lit up as a text came in. The expression on his face tightened as he read the message. “Change of plans. We have to go to the restaurant.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. My tasting event is about to be sabotaged.
Jamie’s stomach turned in a knot. “Sabotage? Like… evil villain sabotage?”
“Worse,” Ricco said grimly. “Bad publicity.”
****
The kitchen at Maison DeMarco was suspiciously quieter than usual when they arrived. Giselle, the head pastry chef, was pacing by the counter, disturbed.
“They switched the sugar with salt,” she said. “We didn’t notice until the macarons were already baked. All of them.”
Jamie winced. “Okay, that’s… mean.”
Ricco’s eyes narrowed. “Trevor,” he muttered.
Jamie’s head snapped up. “Trevor? My Trevor?”
Ricco glanced at him. “Your Trevor?”
Jamie had to reset himself so fast he almost knocked over a set of pans. “Nope. Not mine. Just… a Trevor. A Trevor in the universe.”
“Find him,” Ricco ordered one of the sous chefs. Then, to Jamie: “We’ll work late to fix this.”
Jamie stared at the ruined macarons before him. “How late is late?”
Ricco smirked. “Until it’s perfect.”
****
Two hours later, Jamie looked like a ghost suffering from epilepsy. All covered in almond flour, his hair was dusted with powdered sugar.
“Good job,” Ricco said, appreciating Jamie’s work. “You might actually survive here.”
Jamie gave him a mock salute. “Glad to be of service, Captain Citrus.”
Ricco’s brow quirked. “Captain… Citrus?”
Jamie smiled. “I meant to say you’re… sharp. Zesty. Occasionally dangerous.”
Ricco smiled slightly and beckoned on Jamie with a shift of head. “Come on. Let's lock up.”
****
As they stepped into the cool Manhattan night, Jamie felt that warm, unhelpful flutter in his chest again. This was ridiculous. He barely knew the guy. He was lying to him daily. And yet…
“Jamie,” Ricco said suddenly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “About this cousin story…”
Jamie felt a sudden heat vibrating from his feet upwards. He brushed through his hair with his fingers as the heat produced tiny dots of sweat.
“Tomorrow is a special event in Brooklyn,” Ricco continued, “I’d like you to accompany me there. Then, I’ll introduce you to my family.”
Jamie’s mouth went dry. “Your… family?”
“Yes. And if you’re going to keep pretending to be related to Marco, they will have questions.”
Jamie forced a laugh. “Questions are my specialty.”
Ricco studied him for a long moment. “Good. Because I detest surprises.”
Jamie’s face suddenly turned pale with a fake grin on his face. He thought to himself, “How am I escaping from this mess I got myself into?”
****
That night, Jamie in restlessness, sent a text across to Pepper and as he dropped into bed, his phone vibrated. A text from Pepper lit up the screen:
PEPPER: “You need to tell him the truth before Brooklyn. Or at least before he figures it out himself.”
Below it, another text popped up, this time from an unknown number:
UNKNOWN: “Stop pretending to be Marco’s cousin. Or you’ll regret it.”
Jamie was unable to get his eyes off the screen as his mind was racing. Calculating. And suddenly felt sick.
The mission to Manhattan had not started yet and the end was glaring at him. His name will be on the tabloids… in shame. Quite Interesting!
- Writer
