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“Get out of my way,” I said, stepping forward. “If you think that I’ll stay and clean this up, you’re out of your damn mind.”
“Youwillstay. And youwillcook. Because that’s your job.” As soon as Damien put his hands on my shoulders and shoved me backward, I did what I’d been dying to do for years now. I brought my knee up solidly between his legs just like my brothers had taught me. With a pained grunt, Damien crumpled to the floor, a soft keening noise coming from his lips, like a balloon letting out air.
“Big tree falls hard,” I mumbled.
“Lia! What’s going on?” Savannah, the head bartender, came upstairs with a case of beer in her arms, which she immediately dropped upon seeing the grasshoppers. The smash of glass was beyond satisfying as I stepped neatly over Damien.
“Damien’s turning the place into a club. Oh, and he wants to feed people grasshoppers.” Other servers were walking in the door for their shift, and at my words, they scattered back outside. “I’m leaving.”
“I’m with you. I knew this place would go to hell with him in charge,” Savannah said, reaching behind the bar to grab her purse. As one, the waitstaff and I pivoted and left Damien, curled on the floor and covered in grasshoppers, screaming after us.
“Screw that guy. Want to go get drunk?” Savannah asked, looking around North End. “I think this is the first Saturday night I’ve had free in ages.”
“Yes, yes, I do.” I mean, I didn’t, not really. I wanted to go home and shower for weeks on end. But I’d just quit the single most important thing that I’d done in my life, and alcohol was needed.
Savannah hooked my arm, pulling me down the street, and before I knew it, we were ensconced in a proper Boston dive bar, yelling at the Sox on the brightly lit screens, and eating delicious fried food. By the time I staggered into my building, I was well and truly numbed from the shock of quitting my job.
There, I plopped down onto my tiny loveseat in my tiny utilitarian apartment and looked around at my bare walls. There was no cat to greet me, no houseplant to water, only a pile of unfolded laundry on the small breakfast bar. My life, quite literally, had been at the restaurant. Suzette’s. My home. My baby. My everything. But it had never really been mine, had it? I’d been running my whole life, away from the little girl who wore hand-me-downs, and now fear lodged low in my stomach as the debt I’d accrued from attending culinary school loomed in my mind.
My phone pinged with a text message.
Carlo: What’s up with the picture of you and Savannah at the bar tonight and her saying you guys quit?
I rolled my eyes at the text from my brother Carlo. He was the most protective of my brothers and knew how seriously I took my job.
Me: I wish she wouldn’t have posted that until I was ready to share. But yes, I quit. Or Damien let me go. Either way, I’m done. He wants to feed people grasshoppers and turn the restaurant into a club.
Carlo: Grasshoppers? What the hell? I hate him. I’ve always hated him. Stupid move on his part. Might as well sell the restaurant. He’ll make more money than trying to run it himself.
Me: He’s ruined everything.
Carlo: Come home. Ma will cook Sunday dinner for you. You haven’t been home in months.
Me: I need to sleep. And take a moment to process this. Will call you tomorrow.
Carlo: You’d better be at dinner or I’m telling Ma you got fired.
Me: Dick move.
Carlo: Love you. See you tomorrow.
I sent him a photo of me flipping him off and then sighed and dropped back onto the cushions. I loved my family, loud and overbearing though they were. With four brothers, an Italian mother, and a Scottish father, my childhood had been chaotic, even on a good day. And there had been more good days than bad, even though we’d been dirt poor, and my parents had barely been able to make ends meet. However, what I’d lacked for in material goods had been more than made up for in love. We were a tightly connected bunch, sometimes too tightly, judging from my brother’s midnight text message.
I couldn’t move back home.
Leaving my small town to live in Boston had been an opportunity to make something of myself. Suzette had taken a chance on me, a naive and tender-hearted girl fresh from high school, and she’d been pivotal in providing me with an environment in which to flourish. I never, ever, asked anyone for help, and I’d been determined to prove myself to Suzette. Through several long years of culinary school, and late nights at the restaurant, I’d worked my way up from dishwasher to head chef at Suzette’s. When the article in Boston Magazine had come out, my mother had spent almost her entire paycheck on buying multiple copies to give to everyone she knew. I’dhadevery intention of framing that article myself. My blank walls now mocked me.
Blinking down at my phone, I noticed my voicemail indicator. I hadn’t heard the ring in the loud bar, and now I stared at the UK number with a shiver of anticipation.That was odd. Punching in my code, I pulled up my voicemail.
“Hi, Lia, my name is Sophie, and I’m calling from MacAlpine Castle in Scotland. We’ve heard talk of your legendary prowess in the kitchen and are hoping to lure you to Scotland to work for us in our restaurant. What do you say? Fancy a chef’s job in an honest-to-goodness castle? You’ll have free rein with the menu, of course. Please let us know. It’s quite urgent, but we’ll move on to the next name on our list if you’re not interested. You’re our top choice, naturally.” She rattled off her contact information. Surprise had me dropping my phone, and I stood up to pace my small living room. Seven steps forward. Seven steps back.
Scotland.
The thought alone made me smile.Oh, what incredible timing. It wasn’t that unusual for other restaurants to try and pry me away from Suzette’s, but I’d never had an offer from someplace as far away as Scotland. Maybe…well, just maybe. Nerves skittered through my stomach. Glancing around at my empty apartment once more, I took a deep breath and picked up my phone.
CHAPTERTWO
Lia
