AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“She likes a challenge,” Jax said. “If you followed her in the foodie news, then you’ve seen the headlines. The critics didn’t think she could do it.” Jax turned up their two middle fingers like Feb was so fond of doing. “She wanted to prove them wrong.”
Ariel laughed, then settled back in his chair, bowl lifted as he tilted it this way and that, getting every bite. “I thought maybe you had something to do with it. That she was feeling the romantic spirit.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“You’d like her to be.”
Jax shoved another spoonful into their mouth instead of answering.
“I also worked for the CIA. The connection between you two was obvious in the less than five minutes I saw you together in the dining room.” Finished with his food, he set the bowl aside. “Chloe filled me in too.”
“Where is the little traitor?”
“In a safe house, for now. Once we’re done, she’ll be on her way to her dream job in Paris. Another Render-starred kitchen.”
Finished, Jax stacked their bowl in Ariel’s. “So she is a real chef?”
“She is, and I was able to give her something she wanted. It’s a whole lot easier to get people to do what you want when you can return the favor.” He carried their dishes to the sink, then returned with a pen and notebook. The leather journal with a sugar skull design embossed on the front looked well-traveled and well-used, the leather supple, the spine cracked, random slips of paper tucked between pages. Sliding into his seat, Ariel removed the elastic holding the bulging notebook together and opened to a blank page toward the back. “Now, if I’m gonna do this favor for you, I’ll need you to fill in some details since my dinner was cut short. Let’s start with how the V-day concept came about, beyond just...” He flipped his two middle fingers up, as Jax had done earlier. Jax had to admit, he was a charming kidnapper. And they enjoyed regaling him with the story of how solo resos, only local, and no pink had come about.
“That’s fabulous,” he guffawed, furiously scribbling notes. “If I’d gotten to eat, what would you have recommended?”
“Well, every table started with sumac and chili roasted chickpeas, which, in fairness, was Chloe’s dish. For a starter, I’d rec the winter citrus salad. Beets, blood orange, and fennel with a toss in cumin-spiked olive oil and a sprinkle of pomegranate seeds.” Jax fondly remembered the thirty-minute face-off between Adi and Feb over whether the blood oranges were pink or not. A couple of hours in the blast chiller had fixed that. “The brightness works to wake up the palate, the cumin acts as a bridge between the sumac and the next dish, and it worked with the Blue Rose drink that started the meal.”
“Tell me about that.”
They left out the personal connection both they and Feb had to the drink, instead describing how they’d adapted it from a Texas favorite, how there were nonalcoholic versions, and how the drink paired well with the first course.
“For a midcourse, you’d want to order the crab-stuffed morels, and Feb would be watching for your reaction from the breezeway espresso station. She damn near had a breakdown over your mentions of morels in past reviews and how much was the right amount, so you better fucking rave about the ratio being just right.”
“Noted,” Ariel said with a grin.
Jax was fairly certain they’d given away more than intended—especially in light of his earlier girlfriend comment—but the morel dish was important to Feb. Ariel needed to know that. Before he could question further, Jax went on to describe the main dish they’d choose for him—pan-seared swordfish served with blistered vegetables and salmoriglio sauce. A hearty fish, moist and firm, a less fishy-tasting palate that would allow the charred veggies and bright herby sauce to shine. “And to finish,” they said, winding down to the close, “the pomegranate chia pudding.”
Ariel cocked a dark, bushy brow. “Not the smoked apple crostata? I saw it go by on my way in. Looked pretty cool.”
“It was, and delicious too, but the pudding is a better bookend to where you started. The pomegranates come back and shine, and given the spices in that shakshuka, I think you’d enjoy the chai.”
He scribbled another few lines, filling the remainder of a third page of notes, then closed the journal. “How many times did you go over that ideal progression with Feb?”
“At least a dozen.”
“And how many people ordered it like that?”
Jax shot him a dirty look. “One.” They held their stern glare for all of two seconds before they cracked up laughing alongside Ariel, their hilarity only subsiding when the computer running searches pinged. “Time for me to get back to work.”
“You have enough food?” Ariel said as he stood.
“Plenty, thank you.” Jax polished off their coffee and handed him the mug. “Everything was delicious.”
He moseyed back to the kitchen to wash dishes while Jax waited for browser windows to fully load. Their gaze strayed to the notebook Ariel had left on the table, to the calavera stamped into the leather on the front. It had seemed generally familiar before—they’d attended more than a few of San Francisco’s Day of the Dead festivals—but Jax had seen this particular design in a much different, closer context. “Did you give Fletcher the nesting doll? The sugar skull one?”
Silverware clattered in the stainless steel sink, and in the reflection on their monitor, Jax watched as Ariel leaned his weight against the edge of the sink, his head bowed and shoulders slumped, like his knees had completely given out from under him.
“It’s on his desk,” Jax said. “Has been since the day he joined the department.”
“Jax—”
“I know what I saw in those five minutes too.” And it sure as hell wasn’t closure.
