Клео Коул - French Pressed

“Not to change the subject, Tommy, but is Anton Wright the only owner of Solange?” I had to ask the question, if only to put to rest Mike Quinn’s theory about organized crime being involved with the restaurant.

Tommy’s brow knitted. He was obviously confused by my question. “Yeah, Wright’s the only money man. Why do you care?”

“I was just curious.”

“No, you weren’t.” Tommy’s jutting chin lifted. “I can see it behind those bright green eyes of yours. You have an ulterior motive. What is it? You plan on hitting the man up for backing to open your own restaurant?”

“No. Nothing like that. I was just wondering if maybe he was involved with some shady partners. My father was a small-time bookie back in PA, so I’m not exactly an innocent about the way organized crime works. I know they can infiltrate legitimate businesses pretty easily, operate around them. Vinny’s violent murder with a knife right out of your kitchen could have been a warning of some kind.”

“That’s a hell of a leap. You think Vinny was whacked?”

“It’s a thought.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“So someone from the mob isn’t threatening you or the owner, pressuring you or Anton Wright for more money, a bigger cut?”

“Listen, Anton’s the son of a Brooklyn butcher. He doesn’t like to admit that, but he grew up just like us. Then he became a stockbroker and made a few million on Wall Street, but it was always his dream to go into the restaurant business. Opening Solange was a big deal for him. It’s the third Manhattan restaurant he’s backed but his only successful one—due to me , of course. There’s nothing more to it than that. Hey, are you shivering?”

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. I should get you out of here if you’re cold.”

“Is there anyplace else we can be alone to talk?”

“Not really, but does that matter?”

“Yes.” I put my hand on his chest, an automatic gesture as he moved to leave. “Just a few more questions—”

“You sure, Clare? Look at you. You’re covered in goose bumps.” The back of his hand moved to test my cheek. “Your flesh is like ice!”

“It’s okay. Really. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Before I could stop him, he’d stepped close and began to rub his large hands up and down my freezing arms. “How does that feel?”

I smirked up at the man. “Inappropriate.”

Tommy laughed. “You really are a pistol, you know that? Too bad I didn’t meet you before your daughter—”

“Tommy? Are you in there? They said you came down—” The door to the cave cracked open. And so did my world. My daughter stood there with a look of complete devastation on her young face. “Mom?”

Oh, no.

“Mom? And Tommy? I don’t believe it.”

I backed away from my daughter’s lover. “Joy, this isn’t what you think—”

“Yes it is,” she whispered. “I’m not an idiot.”

She bolted. I chased her. But her feet were in running shoes, and mine were in high heels. She was up the steps and out that restaurant’s back door faster than Brigitte Rouille.

I moved as quickly as I could through the shade of the concrete alley. By the time I reached the open sidewalk, the afternoon sun was blinding. I’d spent too much time in Tommy’s dim cellar. It had wrecked my vision.

I shaded my eyes and searched uptown then down, but bodies of pedestrians obstructed my view. I darted and moved one way then another. But it was no use. I had no idea where my daughter had run.

“No! I can’t have lost you!”

Tommy strode up behind me. “Clare, I’m sorry that happened.”

“You and me both!”

We stood together on the sidewalk, squinting against the sun’s glare as we spent another minute peering up and down the street.

“Don’t sweat it, Clare,” Tommy finally said.

“She’s my daughter, you jerk! Of course I’m going to sweat it!”

“Look…” he said, his voice tight but conciliatory, “she left everything behind back there. Her knives are out of her locker and all over her prep table. I’m sure she left things in her locker, too. She’ll be back. And when she comes, I’ll talk to her. I’ll explain that you and I were talking about Vinny and what she saw was completely innocent.”

“Will you even be here when she gets back?” My eyes narrowed. “You’re not taking off again?”

Tommy stiffened. “I’ll be here at Solange all day and all night, likely into the wee hours. Brigitte’s gone, and I’ve got some catching up to do.” Hands on hips, he braced his legs, like a ship’s captain readying for a storm. “Her replacement is very good, and he’s as cocksure of himself as yours truly, but I still have to make sure Henry can handle his promotion. It’s important that he’s able to take care of things when I’m not here.”

That sounded ominous to me. “So you plan on going AWOL again?”

Tommy looked away, glanced at his watch. “I have lots of work to do, Clare.”

“But you will tell Joy about going to Anatomy?”

“Yes, by the time she leaves here tonight, she’ll be only too happy to leave Solange. She’ll be cursing my name, too.”

“What exactly are you planning to do?”

“I’m going to break up with Joy publicly, in front of the entire staff.”

“Does it have to be that brutal?”

“Hating me is the best thing for her,” Tommy said. “And I want the best for your daughter. Don’t you?”

I closed my eyes, steeling myself against the pain and shame in store for Joy.

“Believe me, Clare, in cases like these, the cleanest cut is the best.”

“You what?!”

“Calm down, Matt.”

“What did I tell you, Clare? Did I not tell you to stay out of the man’s cheese cave?!”

“I know you did. I know. But it was my one chance to speak with Keitel privately…”

I was on my cell phone with Matt, pacing Solange’s back alley. There’d been no more talking with Tommy after we returned to Solange’s kitchen. The second he hit the back door, he went into extreme chef mode, shooting orders to cooks, tasting sauces, checking and rechecking ovens, and taking call after call on his cell phone—from vendors, colleagues, and the occasional VIP.

I hung around for another hour, waiting for Joy to return. I’d tried her cell phone and home phone, and got her voice mail on both. So I waited some more. Then I could tell I was in the way, and I ducked into the alley to make the call that I was dreading—to my ex-husband.

“I never meant for Joy to see us,” I told Matt. “She wasn’t even scheduled to arrive for another hour.”

“Obviously, she got there early to talk with Tommy.”

“Well, now she’s over an hour late .” I checked my watch again. It was almost three thirty. “I’m worried about her. Are you sure you checked your cell’s messages? She hasn’t tried to call you?”

“Believe me, she hasn’t. And if she does, it’ll have to be from a pay phone. Salinas confiscated her cell phone last night, don’t you remember?”

“Of course, right…” With so much happening, I’d forgotten. “Well, if she does call you, let me know, okay? And it’s important that she report back to the restaurant. I just found out that Brigitte Rouille’s been fired so she’s no longer a threat to Joy—”

“Wait, slow down. Brigitte’s been fired? That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I still want our daughter out of this kitchen altogether, and that can’t happen until Tommy fires her.”

“What do you mean fires her? Run that by me again…?”