Page 30 of Hot Hearts
BROOKS
The next day I’m back at Felipe’s condo. Everyone pitching in to concoct a plan to save Slater’s reputation was great, but it leaves too much up to chance. Simply putting two unsavory ingredients together doesn’t make an explosive dish. There needs to be heat or agitation. Some kind of force multiplier.
So here I am. Like Carrie, the owner of the coffee shop said, no one in culinary school liked me. It wasn’t just because my dishes were always better but because I didn’t allow the instructors to intimidate me. I hadn’t grown up rich and privileged like a lot of the other students. I’d had to fight for my place there. I worked jobs washing dishes and mopping floors. I cleaned toilets on the weekends in big office complexes. I was never afraid to get my hands dirty because I knew that I deserved to wear the white coat. I did what needed to be done.
Slater needs protection, but even more than that, she deserves to be exonerated. I’m not letting this lowlife with a ring light and a video camera take away her dignity, and I’m not leaving her fate up to chance.
The doorman gives me a chin nod of recognition. “Number 18,” he says in greeting.
I nod in return. I signed the papers right after leaving Felipe’s apartment. I knew that my visit wasn’t the end of things and would need to get back in. Being a resident was the easiest way to do that.
Number 18 is on the fifth floor, and Felipe’s apartment is on the third. I get off on the third. Outside of Felipe’s place, I pause to listen. There’s no noise inside. With a master key I pilfered from the manager’s office when he went to make copies of the lease agreement, I let myself in.
Without all the lights on, the apartment is dim and empty. Slater said that Felipe films everything. I thought that was an exaggeration until I looked at his socials. He had short videos of himself flipping blinis for his caviar, drinking wine as he’s watching a movie, and even showering. The one video which showed him drinking wine had several angles following him from one room to another. I asked Slater how that was done, if he had someone film him, and she thought that he had different cameras set up in his apartment.
I find small ones mounted on tension rods in nearly every corner of the room, just as Slater guessed there would be. There were three in the living room, four in the kitchen, and one over the entry door. I found two in the bathroom including one over the shower head and one mounted on the mirror. In the bedroom, there were even more. One in the headboard, one above the mirror across from the bed, one in each corner. All of these just for a few seconds to capture him walking from the bathroom to his closet? I didn’t believe that.
His spare room holds a desk, dozens of empty wine bottles, empty bags with designer logos, and a computer. I sit down at his desk and rifle through his mail, which is mostly junk mailerswith a couple of overdue bills from credit cards. He appears to be maxed out and a couple months behind.
The computer login pops up. I search around the desk mat and find a sticky note with passwords written down and crossed off. I enter the latest one, “wineGod69!” and the screensaver dissolves to the main desktop. It takes me only a few minutes to confirm what I suspected. Felipe does film everything and likely not with everyone’s consent.
He filmed me secretly, and it wasn’t his first time doing it either.
A text alert pops up on my phone.
I’m here
I shove away from the desk and go open the apartment door. A small, thin woman shifts nervously side to side. It’s Sara, the person who betrayed Slater.
“Chef Brooks?”
I nod and move out of the way.
“Where’s Felipe?” She peers around the entry and then living room, moving around as if she’s been here before.
“Coming soon.” According to his socials, he’s having lunch at Cipriani’s, and they stop serving at two. He should be arriving anytime.
“I don’t really understand why I’m here. Are you and Slater really a thing?”
“Yes. We’re getting married.”
“Oh, she didn’t tell me that.”
“You slept with her boyfriend. What did you expect?”
Sara flushes. “He convinced me that they weren’t in love anymore or I wouldn’t have ever touched him.”
“I don’t care. Come with me.” I walk back into the office and gesture for her to take a seat. “Did you agree to these?”
I wave my hand toward the screen and then move to the opposite side of the desk where I can’t see the monitor screen. Sara moves slowly, as if she knows what she is going to see but doesn’t want to watch.
”I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
Fifteen minutes later, she emerges ashen-faced and shaking. I hand her a glass of diluted grape juice that Felipe uses as pretend red wine. She needs the sugar.
“Why did you connect Slater with Felipe?” I ask.
Sara drains the glass and then shoves it toward me. “Does he have any real stuff here?”
