Page 51 of This Is How It Started
“Yep. Where do you want to go?”
“Wait a minute. You told them before me?” My brother and I have no secrets between us.
“It happened at the same time Campbell got his house. I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”
Is that how pathetic I’ve become to my family that one stinking sale—to a friend no less—trumps my big brother closing out the deal of a lifetime? “Seriously, Adam, this is huge. How could you not tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.” He slaps my leg. “I’ve got an idea since we’re both celebrating. Let’s go to Frank Dina’s and have lobster pot pie.”
“We won’t get in. Not on a Friday night. Not unless we eat at the bar.” I’m not feeling a sitting-at-the-bar vibe tonight. I was hoping for a quiet dinner and was even considering telling Adam about Josh’s text messages.
Over the last two weeks, I’ve shown great restraint by not reading the rest of them. A couple of times I came close to deleting the entire file but couldn’t do it, holding out hope that his last text to Beth goes something like this:
Beth, I’ve met someone. And while you’re amazing—cute, sweet, and a great dancer—this new woman, well, she’s the one. I mean like seriously The One. It’s still early in our relationship, but I already know she’s going to be the mother of my children and the love of my life. I hope we can stay friends, but if we can’t, I’m cool with that too.
Wishing you all the best —Josh
“We’ll get in,” Adam says. “Frank is a big fan of theLegend of Zena.” That’s the first video game Switchback ever made and to this day one of the most popular—in the world.
“Really?” I ask surprised. Frank Dina is a renowned chef with restaurants all over the globe. Somehow, I can’t picture him lying on a crusty couch with a bowl of Cheetos on his stomach, manning a joystick. But there are stranger things known to happen.
“Yep. He’s catered two of Switchback’s parties, and we’re sort of friends.”
“Okay, as long as we can get a table, because I don’t want to sit at the bar. Wow, I can’t believe your company is sold. What are you going to do with all that loot?” I know a Victorian he can buy as long as he lets me continue to live there.
“Probably reinvest it in another startup. Buy a Tesla.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he stutters, “Shit. Sorry, Rach.”
“It wasn’t the Tesla that killed Josh, it was the dumbass behind the wheel. Get one if you want.”
When we get to the restaurant, Adam doesn’t even bother to look for parking, just pulls up to the valet stand and hands one of the attendants his keys. Fancy.
“Watch me work my magic.” Adam cracks his knuckles.
Why do I have a terrible feeling that my brother is going to make a fool of himself? Ordinarily, it would be fun to watch. But I’m hungry, and lobster pot pie sounds so good right now that I don’t want to leave disappointed.
As I suspect, the host doesn’t have a table for us. When Adam asks to talk to Frank, I cringe. It’s the equivalent of “Do you know who I am?”
“Is he expecting you, sir?” The man, who’s a caricature of a haughty maître d’, is actually intimidating as he stares down his long nose at us.
I want to say,Lighten up, Francis. This is the city by the bay, not Paris.
“Tell him Adam Gold of Switchback wants to say hi.” My brother jams his hands in his pockets, way more confident than I am that Frank Dina will deign to make an appearance.
But five minutes later, much to my surprise, Dina comes sauntering out from the kitchen. He’s got on a white chef’s jacket, chef’s pants, Prada sneakers and a smile a mile wide.
“Adam!” He gives my brother a fist bump and then some kind of weird shoulder knock handshake thing.
Adam introduces me. Dina’s polite, but he only has eyes for Adam, who he definitely has a man crush on. Who knew my nerdy brother was so popular?
“You guys here to eat?” Frank asks.
“Yeah, if you’ve got a table.”
Frank motions us to follow him across the dining room. Tucked in the corner, next to a window facing California Street, is a quiet little two-top that the restaurant obviously reserves for VIPs who wander in without a reservation.
“I’ll send some apps out,” Frank says. “Good seeing you, Adam. Nice meeting you, Rachel. Bon appétit.”
As he walks away, I mouth to Adam, “Oh. My. God.”
