Page 49 of Strike
“I’ve got to get to work,” she said after a moment. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“Yeah, I guess. No plans so far.”
“All right. See you later.”
Sipping my coffee, my stomach churned, and I made a face. Tipping it into the sink, I detoured past the bathroom for a shower before grabbing my laptop and settling on my bed.
Opening my email, I scrolled through my messages and notifications. I would have to get my cake to the shop somehow. I wondered if I could rent a van or con a mate into helping me transport it.
There was a message from a Hector Vanderhall, and my heart skipped a beat. Opening the message, I scanned the contents and almost vomited.
Hi, Callie, I saw your cakes online and heard about the fire at your shop. I’m terribly sorry to hear about the damage. I’m writing to see if you would like to come meet me. I would be delighted to hear more about your desserts, and perhaps we could help one another with future ventures in food? Here is my number. Call me anytime.
Hector Vanderhall?TheHector Vanderhall?
This had to be some kind of prank. This guy was a genius—he wasthecelebrity chef known for his theatrical food—and he was emailing me with his private mobile number? I fanned my searing cheeks. The only way to find out for sure was to call, right?
Picking up my phone, I dialed the number with shaking hands.
“Hello, this is Hector.”
His British accent washed over me, and I immediately knew this was not a joke.
“Hello?” I said haltingly. “This is Callie Winslow. I’ve just seen your email…”
“Callie!” he exclaimed, sounding rather excited for eight in the morning. “I’m so glad you called.”
“Thank you for the email. I’m rather curious…”
“Are you free today?” he asked, talking to me like we’d already met.
“Today?” I replied, a little shocked. “Sure, I, uh…”
“Great,” he declared. “Come see me at my restaurant in the city. Any time you’re able. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Great! Oh, great cakes, by the way. Spectacular!”
The line went dead, and I stared at the screen, completely frazzled. I knew the guy was eccentric, but this was weird. I felt like I’d just been spun around by a colorful whirlwind and left dazed.
I was going to see Hector Vanderhall about a job.Holy fuck.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the bustle that was Fortune, Hector Vanderhall’s flagship Melbourne restaurant.
The warm and homely scent of food wafted around me, and my unsettled stomach began to ease. The entire tram ride over here, I was deathly frightened I might shit my pants I was that nervous. Total brown trousers time. My emotions were at an all-time high what with last night’s date with Justin, the deep and meaningful I had with Mark, our night together, my conversation with Macy…and now Hector.
Nothing for my entire life and then everything all in the space of a month. Talk about one hell of a roller coaster.
I approached the hostess, and she smiled, then looked me up and down. She was tall, thin as a rake, and beautiful with her perfect makeup, flawless complexion, and long chocolate-colored hair. I immediately felt like a tub of washed-out lard.
“Name?” she demanded.
“Winslow, I’m—”
“Do you have a reservation?” she interrupted, looking stern.
“No, I…”
