Actually, that was a good thing. If I was only adequate, then I didn’t have to worry about people paying attention to me. I’d had enough of that growing up as a congressman’s daughter. These days, I wanted to escape notice.
Life was just easier that way.
“You didn’t tell me this was going to be a thing,” I muttered to Naomi, surveying the crowd of fashionistas and entertainment industry types who’d gathered at the sushi bar she’d chosen.
She assumed an expression of injured innocence. “This isn’t a ‘thing’ — it’s just a soft opening for a restaurant.”
“A restaurant run by the guy who used to be the sous chef at Nobu,” I shot back. Not that I would know Nobu from a hole in the ground — I’d just been reading the write-up on the back of the menu I was handed as we walked into the place. B
