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I stepped out and put on a pair of comfortable gray sweats, combed my hair, and headed for the living room, suddenly stopping at the bedroom door with a groan.
Most of the time, I preferred to hang out shirtless at home. Being Monday, I would have to cover up. My personal chef, Martin, had brought along his apprentice, Amy. Shirtless around Martin was always fine by my standards. Still, I had been raised to cover up and be respectful around women, and no amount of money or social climbing could dissuade me from heeding the words of my dear mother’s lectures. I returned to my dresser, pulled out a dark gray New York Yankees t-shirt, and glanced in the mirror.
It was well-worn, but I was at home, after all. Amy would have to settle for my relaxed look.
I went to the open-floor living room, where the large kitchen was fully visible on the other side of a wide island bar. Martin and Amy were busy chopping vegetables in the kitchen as he explained to her the best way to infuse the taste of ginger into a turkey breast.
She was hanging on his every word. I smiled at them, then was reminded of my own day with Jill.
Like Amy, Jill was eager to learn but perhaps a little overwhelmed with all she was being shown. I was worried about Jill’s stamina. When newcomers join the team, they are often eager to improve their departments and assert themselves as valuable employees. Unfortunately, most of those types would burn out and leave within the first few months, having decided that lesser stress was worth the cut in pay.
Jill seemed tougher than most, though. Whatever she was alluding to at lunch about having to get away from back home- I could tell she’d been through the wringer. I couldn’t help but admire the courage it took for her to leave her small town and move to the city to chase this job, and I thought surely it would help her stay focused even on the hard days.
My only genuine concern with Jill was that whatever she was running from wasn’t over yet. If it hindered her performance for the company, of course, she’d have to be let go. It wasn’t something I was looking forward to dealing with should the issue arise.
I leaned back in my favorite chair and shut my eyes. I didn’t even bother turning on the television.
I began to think about Jill and her previous life in Ohio. Had it been an ex that forced her to make the big leap? I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy of someone else getting to touch her. Someone else being able to have those beautiful long tan legs wrapped around them as they entered her. My cock began to stir at the thought of Jill. This wasn’t good. I definitely was attracted to the girl. I needed to kick these thoughts out of my mind.
I listened to the two chefs banging around in the kitchen to distract myself. Something about the dynamic nature of their work has always fascinated me. I had no talent in the kitchen. I could barely make a grilled cheese.
Cooking combines science and art, determination, and love into one place. I was jealous of anyone that could make it all work together.
My peace was soon interrupted by the sound of my ringing phone.
I checked my phone screen. It was Alex, another ex-military buddy. Alex was the last person I wanted to talk to. He was loud, boisterous, and lacked a filter, but I had already avoided him three times during the weekend and couldn’t get away with hitting the decline button many more times. I decided to get the chat over with.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey, Buddy!” he shouted, forcing me to pull the phone back a few inches from my ear. “I was wondering if you got a new number or something! I was having a hard time getting through to you!”
“No, just been busy,” I said, rolling my eyes. “How have you been?”
“Oh, I’ve been alright. I was checking to see how you were holding up with all that’s come out about Sarah.”
“Sarah?” I asked, suddenly confused. Sarah was my ex. I had been engaged to her in my twenties when I was enlisted. It had ended horribly, though, and I hadn’t spoken to her since my discharge.
“You haven’t heard?” he asked. “Sarah is engaged to John now.”
“John Montgomery?” I asked incredulously. Montgomery had also served alongside Alex and me, but I hadn’t spoken to him in several years.
“Yeah!” Alex said. “You know, we always wondered who the other guy was. I guess that tells it all, doesn’t it?”
I know Alex meant well. I tried not to get angry with him, but sometimes, how he worded things and presented information was hard to understand.
“Is that really what you’ve been trying so hard all weekend to get through and tell me?” I asked, feeling my anger brewing.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said. “I saw her posts about it on Instagram.”
Before I could say anything else, Martin waved at me from the kitchen. “Mr. Matos!” he called. “Dinner is served!”
“I have to go,” I said, hanging up abruptly on Alex, then walking over to the dining room table to sit down. In front of me sat a gorgeous plate of fresh steamed vegetables and roasted turkey smothered in an orange sauce over a bed of wild rice.
“This looks amazing,” I said, smiling at them both as they gathered their jackets to leave.
I turned on the television and watched from the table as I ate, then carried my plate to the kitchen, rinsed it, and placed it in the dishwasher with the dishes Amy and Martin had already loaded. I added soap and started the machine, then grabbed a rag to wipe down the counters before sweeping.
A housekeeper came daily to clean for me, but I liked to have the kitchen cleaned before bed in the evenings. I could never justify making my housekeeper wait around to do these tasks so late in the evening, though, so it was the one tiny list of daily household chores I took upon myself without hiring anyone else. In a way, it was liberating to do it on my own. I felt like it kept me grounded.
