Page 36 of Unexpected Pickle
I keep my eye on my plate, but then Moreau’s hand appears in front of me. “Come, Chef Young, let’s make a proper meal in the kitchen.”
I look up at him. His face has relaxed again, and it’s pretty swoon-worthy. His cap is a mile high.
The woman next to me leans in. “I’d go with him if I were you. He’s made a lot of careers.”
I take his hand, warm and weathered from kitchen work, like mine. “What did you have in mind?”
“Something decadent. A desert maybe. Five carbs perbite.”
I follow him to the kitchen. It’s quiet here with the restaurant closed again. The lightly attended brunch is long over.
We head to the larder, an enormous pantry filled with dry goods.
“Well organized,” Moreau says, perusing the shelves.
“It is.”
Then he takes my arm and turns me to him. “I’ve seen your work, Jeannie. The commercials. The magazines. You have your finger on the commercial scene’s pulse. I think we could be an excellent team. My renown in France. Your Hollywood connections. I’ve always wanted to do a cooking show.”
Does he think I can get that for him?
“Chef Moreau…”
“Call me Jon Luc. Please.”
I see what’s happening here. It’s not me he’s interested in. It’s what I can do for him. That’s the social currency he knows. A person is only useful for what they get for you.
“Chef Moreau, I think you’re mistaken about what I can do.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. You must have connections all across the industry.”
Do I? Ihavedone a lot of work. I’ve been unwilling to follow up on my own, letting Max set up my gigs. “Maybe.”
He turns me in a circle in the tight space, and when I face him again, I’m flush against his body. “Shall we see if we have a connection? Take this opportunity to see what we can be?”
He leans toward me.
He’s going to kiss me!
I’m suddenly repelled. I know I should give it a try. It’s what I thought I wanted. A chef. Someone away from my father’s influence. A power duo.
But something is off here.
I step back.
“Jeannie?” He seems perplexed that I haven’t fallen for his charms.
“Let me think about it. Okay?”
He raises his arms. “Of course. Yes. So smart. We should not rush. There is plenty of time. Two more days of the retreat!” He turns to the shelves. “Now, for dessert!”
My urge is to flee. To go someplace quiet and figure out what is happening.
But I don’t want to upset him. To shut this thing down. Not yet. He’s clearly using me, but I go into it knowing that. And it’s what I came here for. To make connections to get me out of the rut I’ve been in. He’s not influenced by my father. He thinks I can help him.
As long as I don’t involve my heart, it might be fine.
We gather sugar, flour, and baking powder. I head to the stations behind him. Several other chefs trickle in and decide to join in the fun.
