What Love Tastes Like (19 page)

Tiffany was numb. She stopped at red lights and turned corners on autopilot. The radio was on, but Tiffany couldn't hear it for the conversation looping over and over inside her head.

…you've acted like the only person who had a say in our relationship was you!

Tiffany felt horrible about what Nick had said, how she'd hurt him. She'd never felt about anyone else the way she did Nick, which meant he had the power to hurt her like her father had. All these years later, the memory brought tears to her eyes. It was one of the reasons she didn't date until her senior year in high school, and didn't have another boyfriend until her junior year in college. It was why she chose to focus on her culinary career—because that choice felt safe, predictable, and one she could control.

Did you try and understand my point of view? Did we discuss it rationally? No. You just packed your bags and closed the door. Forget the fact that you broke my heart in the process.

Tiffany raised a shaky hand to her mouth as realization dawned. Nick was right. She hadn't listened to his side of the story, the same way her father hadn't listened to how she felt fifteen years ago.

But what if she and Nick had talked? Would anything she said have mattered? By the time he came to her, Nick's decision to cancel their vacation was made. He'd canceled his flight and booked another one to New York
before
he talked to her. Was that what she'd have to look forward to if her future included Nick? A man who made important decisions without her. Tiffany's phone vibrated, but that fact barely registered. She looked down at the ID.
Joy.
She ignored the call, but she couldn't ignore Joy's words from that day at the beach. It was as if her friend was sitting right there in the car:

Say there was a cooking opportunity, one that if handled successfully would give you the opportunity to open your own restaurant. Are you saying that you would pass up that chance and go on vacation? Or would you explain how important the meeting was to you, and ask Nick if y'all could postpone your rendezvous until later?

Joy had asked a very good question. And the answer was that Tiffany would have done the same thing Nick did—she would have taken the business trip. And would she have loved him any less because of that? Would that decision mean that she loved cooking more than Nick? Tiffany turned down her street and lowered her visor to hit the garage opener. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Her doubts about men, which began with her father, had caused her to act irrationally with a man who deserved far better. And for what? Her heart still hurt. And not only had she ruined a fairy-tale romance, but she'd pushed away the most amazing man she'd ever met.
What have I done?

Tiffany heard Joy's voice as soon as she opened her door.

“…and I mean it, Tiffany. You'd better call me back in the next thirty minutes or I'm coming to Culver City, and it won't be pretty. It's about, let me see…what time is it? Look, I don't know what time it is except to say it's time your ass called—”

Tiffany picked up the phone. “Joy, chill, I'm not in the mood.”

Tiffany's subdued response quieted Joy even as it worried her. “Girl, I've been calling and calling you. Where's your cell?”

“I was going to call you when I got here.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing, you and Nick didn't talk?”

“Not really.”

Joy's loud sigh was her response. “He didn't want to talk?”

“I didn't want to listen. I've messed up, and it's too late to do anything about it. What happened with you and Angelica?”

“Ha! That wench knew she didn't want Joy to bring pain.”

“That's not like you, Joy, to get in somebody's face like that. I appreciate your having my back, but was that really necessary?”

“Probably not, and you're right. I think I've been reading too much Wahida and Kiki. I better go back to ReShonda or Mary Monroe, maybe throw in a little Gwynne Forster so I can chill the bump out.”

Tiffany's mind was too mixed up to follow Joy's ramblings, though the mention of the name “Mary” suggested that these were authors of books Joy had read.

“But it felt good stepping to chick, though. As soon as Nick left, you should have seen her hightailing it out of there. And guess what? Just as I was making my grand exit, who stops me but Basketball Jamal,
and
his agent. Your girl still has a little game going on. I focused on the agent, Myron Wilkes. He gave me his card, and now I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with it, to be honest with you.” Joy's laughter met silence on the other end. “Tiffany, you all right, girl? Do I need to come over?”

“No, just tired. I'll be fine.”

“Okay. But I've got dibs on girl time your next day off, no excuses.”

Tiffany hung up the phone, undressed, and stepped into the shower. There, she let the tears fall in earnest. Tears for a lot of things: her father's absence, her mother's indifference, her introverted personality honed through years of solitude, rejecting Nick. Here was the man of every woman's dreams pleading with her to listen. And she'd walked away. She told Joy she'd be fine, but right now, Tiffany didn't even believe that lie herself.

Tension was palpable in the executive office. The usually unflappable Chef Wang was, well, flapping. “I don't know what happen. She come in, hand me this. Reservation still months out. I need Tiffany.”

Didn't you know, Li? Tiffany runs away from people who need her.
Nick's outward demeanor remained calm, but his blood boiled. For Tiffany to leave him was one thing, but for her to quit working at Taste, and throw a wrench into restaurant operations, was something else. She knew how Li ran his kitchen, and how meticulously he'd chosen his help. The restaurant could handle the high customer volume because the kitchen staff ran like a well-oiled machine—a machine that had been running with the same parts, translated people, since it opened.

Nick leaned back in his chair. “Did she give a reason for this two-week notice?”

Chef Wang shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Not really. She no say she have other job. She no moving other state. I don't get it. She love this job. Do you think you can talk to her?”

I'll talk to her all right, right before I hand over her severance check, and escort her out the door!
Again, Nick thought how easy it would be to simply fire Tiffany…get her out of his life.
An easy fix, but not the most prudent.
Not only was Tiffany a damn good chef, but this job was her livelihood. That she would up and quit had never crossed his mind. “I'm not sure that that would help the situation. She probably has her reasons for leaving, even if she is not sharing them with you.”

“I don't care! Kitchen run perfect now! Excellent team. You the boss. Talk to her. Make her stay.” Chef Wang realized he was being a bit forceful with not only Tiffany's boss but his as well. “Please,” he added. He stood up and bowed slightly in Nick's direction.

“I'll think about it. In the meantime, start going through the other résumés we have on file. We need to be prepared for whatever happens.”

Nick made a couple of phone calls, trying to get back into the flow of the business day. But it wasn't working. His mind was where it had been all weekend—on Tiffany.
What in the hell happened?
One minute they were laughing, joking, and cooking together, the next minute she was throwing her belongings into a carry-on and hauling ass. The change had happened so abruptly it didn't even make sense.

The reality of the matter was that for as much time as Tiffany and Nick had spent together, he hardly knew her at all. Most of their conversations centered around him, his business, world affairs, music, and food. She hardly ever talked about her family, and even when coaxed, kept the topic to a two or three sentence maximum.

It doesn't matter. The last thing I need in my life is a temperamental female.
Nick decided to keep his mind focused, stay busy.
That's all.
With resolve, Nick picked up the phone. “Bastion, Nick.”

“Hey, Nick.”

“Wondered if you wanted to do a dinner meeting tonight? Go over plans for the meeting with the delegation from China in Vegas.”

“Well, I'd love to, Nick, but Jill finishes her last round of chemo today. It's been a tough road. We just want to spend a quiet evening together, appreciating life.”

“That's beautiful, man.”

“Any other time, I'd…”

“No worries, Bastion. You're doing exactly what you should be doing tonight. Give Jill my best.”

“Will do. Hey, maybe one day soon we can invite you and Tiffany over for dinner.”

So much for using business to keep her off my mind.
“Enjoy yourselves tonight, friend.”

“Bye, Nick.”

Nick ended the call and immediately placed another one to the financial component of the Project China team.

“Pat McKennan.”

“Patrick! Nick.”

“Hey, buddy, how are ya?”

“I think we'll all feel a little better next week, and we'll be floating a month from now if everything works out.”

“For sure. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you had those latest numbers crunched, and if you could bring them to a dinner meeting.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, well, I know it's late notice, but I'd like to have those numbers for a report I'm preparing.”

“Got daddy duties tonight, pal. It's my son's birthday. Tell you what. I can have Katie print out what we have and messenger them to you. Will that work?”

No, because I'll still be home alone.
“Sure, Pat, have them sent over.”

“You got it.”

“Enjoy the party.”

“My wife has convinced me to dress up as a clown. Don't know how much I'll enjoy it.”

Nick laughed as he hung up the phone. He thought for a moment, and then once again hit the speaker button. “Jonathan, Nick!”

“Nick Rollins, my man!”

“Everybody knows it's your world…the big JV!”

“What can I do for you, man?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight, shoot some hoops or something.”

“Aw, man, that sounds like the ticket right there. But you know my daughter imagines herself to be the next Lisa Leslie. I promised I'd watch her play tonight. You're welcome to join me.”

As much as Nick wanted to keep busy, he didn't see a high school gymnasium anywhere in his immediate future. And hearing his friends talk about their children made him keenly aware of his single, childless state. “Thanks for asking, but I think I'll pass.”

“Wasn't for the fact that my daughter is playing, you wouldn't be the only one. You know once I left high school, I swore I'd never go back.”

“Ha! That makes two of us. Take it easy, brothah.”

Nick shuffled through papers for several moments but soon gave up the pretense. He pushed away from his desk and stood. Looking around him, he surveyed the trappings of his empire: a vast office the size of a living room, complete with full mini-kitchen, living room area, and shower. The deep French walnut of the executive desk and bookcase was carried over into the living room area by way of a heavy, square coffee table. Similar matching end tables anchored a Henredon leather sofa. Its rich tan color softened the look of the masculine room, which was further warmed up by a silk rug that Nick had personally selected on his first and so far only trip to India. The kitchenette was all stainless steel and granite, outfitted with Kosta Boda crystal and Lenox china. The floor was a mosaic of cappuccino onyx; the curtains, a mix of silk and fine linen. After surveying his office kingdom, Nick walked over to the bar, discreetly positioned between the kitchen and small dining area, and in a move that was totally unlike him, poured himself a finger of Courvoisier. He was looking out at the ocean waves, sipping his drink, when the intercom buzzed.

“Excuse me, Mr. Rollins?”

“Yes, Christina?”

“There's someone on the phone who's demanding to speak with you. Her name is Joy and she said it's personal, in a very rude way, I might add. I tried to get more information from her but—”

“Put her through.”

“Oh, okay. Right away, Mr. Rollins.”

This should be interesting….

“Nick, I'm sorry to bother you, but this is Joy, Tiffany's best friend.”

“The one who was ready to start a brawl at Stanfords? Is this Joy, or Floyd Mayweather?”

“Anyways,” Joy said with a smile in her voice, “I'm calling about Tiffany.”

“I'd rather Tiffany talk to me, not through you.”

“She doesn't know I'm calling, and I hope to keep it that way. Look, Tiffany is trying to act as if it's over between you two, and I want to know if you feel that way. You might not think this is my place, or my business, but she's been my best friend since junior high, and I care what happens to her. I never saw Tiffany so happy as when she was with you. So if you still have feelings for her, I think you should act on them. And I think there are some things about her that she won't tell you but that you need to know.”

Nick put down his drink and reared back in his chair. “I'm listening.”

“You've been summoned.” Roger whispered the cryptic message into Tiffany's ear.

“Quit playin',” Tiffany said with a smile. She was trying not to think about how much she'd miss this place in two weeks but focused on enjoying the atmosphere and the people to the fullest during the time that remained. It was the best job she'd ever had. She would never forget them, or Chef Wang.

“Serious.” Roger twirled a dish towel and popped it near Tiffany's behind. “I just left Chef Wang. He told me to deliver the message.”

“Oh.” Tiffany wiped her hands and removed her apron. She'd delivered her resignation when she came on at one. There had been no time for discussion during the rush hour. But now that it was the lull before dinner, he probably wanted to discuss her leaving. It would be hard, especially if Chef Wang tried to convince her to stay, but Tiffany had made up her mind. She was leaving Taste.

Tiffany decided on a light approach. She pasted a smile on her face and walked purposefully and jauntily toward Chef's office. She even tried to hum a line or two. Anything to counter the fast beating of her heart. “Chef Wang! I know this is about my—Nick!”

“Sit down, Ms. Matthews.” Nick, who'd been lounging by a set of shelves bulging with books, walked over and sat behind Chef Wang's crowded, messy desk. On the surface, he was all business, but inside, his heart was melting. Tiffany didn't know how good she looked with her sweated-out hair pulled back in a simple ponytail and a streak of flour on her cheek. Nick noted the defiant tilt of her chin and defensive crossing of her arms.
The stubborn, unbreakable woman with a heart of stone.
But Joy had known better and now, so did Nick.

Tiffany sat opposite Nick, without a word. She did notice, however, what Nick was holding in his hand—her resignation letter.

Nick looked at her for several seconds without speaking. “Ending our relationship was one thing, Ms. Matthews, but running out on a chef who's invested considerable time in your development, and with a measly two-week notice, no less, is quite another.”

“I think two weeks is—”

“Frankly, I've heard enough about what you think, Ms. Matthews.”

Nick's forceful attitude rendered Tiffany speechless. She opened her mouth but no words came out.

“Chef Wang came to my office today. I've never seen him so upset. Out of a dozen qualified sous chefs, yes, some with more qualifications than your résumé showed, he picked you. Not for your experience, but for your attributes overall—education, training with Emilio, determination, passion—strengths he felt would be a good addition to his team. The team he built with an eye toward the long term. It is no accident that not one person has left his team, not one! Because he picked every person based not only on their cooking skills, but on their character.”

“Now, wait just a minute, Nick.”

“This isn't personal, this is business. Which is why from here on out you will address me as Mr. Rollins.”

“Fine, Mr. Rollins,” Tiffany spat. “There is nothing wrong with my char—”

“What is wrong, Ms. Matthews, is that you are letting personal feelings get in the way of professional integrity. When Chef Wang hired you, he thought he was getting someone who'd matured beyond childish pouting and selfish actions. And so did I.”

Tiffany was so mad she couldn't see straight.
The nerve of this sanctimonious asshole! Sitting over there looking so smug and judgmental…and fine, and sophisticated, and smelling so good…damn!
She wanted to stomp her foot in anger. But that would have looked…childish.

“Chef Wang was perplexed as to the reason you gave for leaving.” Nick looked down and read from Tiffany's letter. “‘…to pursue various cooking styles within different institutions.' He thought that reasoning strange, to say the least. You and I both know it's bullshit.”

If I didn't need the check from these last two weeks, I'd tell you where you could put your bullshit!
Though she felt like a volcano about to erupt, and that a panic attack was imminent, Tiffany forced herself to calm down.

“Now, Chef thought a raise might convince you to stay. But I told him I wasn't sure. Because, Ms. Matthews, I'm not sure you've got what it takes for a long-term career in such a highly pressurized industry, and we both know the food industry is one of the hardest, most competitive of all. The five-star culinary world takes a particular talent, much more skilled and tougher than an average restaurant, or even a three-or four-star. He wonders if the pressure is too much and whether you'd fare better in a place with lower standards and uncomplicated menu choices. I personally think you may want to consider getting out of the kitchen altogether and becoming a food buyer, or perhaps the manager in a high-end market. There you could still assuage your love for cooking, but without having to deal with the stress that the restaurant business demands.”

Tiffany was about to choke on the litany she wanted to spew at him. But she was determined not to say a word, if it killed her.

Nick looked at Tiffany and noticed the marks she was making in her arms by holding herself so tightly.
Yeah, she's pissed, all right. Just like Joy said would happen. There's no way she's leaving now.

Satisfied that he'd done what he set out to do, Nick stood. “I'll simply tell Chef that there's nothing that will keep you in a kitchen of this magnitude, not even a ten percent increase. I will alert him that he needs to hire your replacement immediately, this week if possible.” He walked quickly to the door.

“That won't be necessary.”

“Excuse me?” Nick asked, without turning around.

Tiffany would be damned if Nick Rollins would be proved right by her leaving. “I-I'll talk to Chef Wang, and if
he
feels the restaurant would be better served by my staying here, then I'll withdraw my resignation or at least…wait until Chef finds a suitable replacement.”

Nick spun around. “I'll consider your change of mind, but only because of the precarious position Chef would be in because of your hasty, unplanned departure. But know that if you pull a stunt like this again, not even Chef Wang will be able to save you from the unemployment line. I will not stand for this type of temperamental behavior in any establishment that I own. And once I put the word out about your volatile attitude, no reputable five-star in this town will touch you with a ten-foot pole. Is that understood, Ms. Matthews?”

Tiffany was fairly shaking with rage.

“I don't think I heard an answer.”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips barely moved. “Yes,” she hissed.

Nick ignored her insubordination, turned, and walked out of the office. It was a good thing she couldn't see the smirk that was on his face, or else she'd have really kicked his ass.