"You've had a crap week. First your mother, now Brian. He's a piece of shit for dumping you this week, just like I always said he was," Paulie said, his voice losing the tender quality he'd used seconds before. He jerked off his chef's hat, slammed it against his knee, and scrubbed his hands through his short gray hair.
"How do you know about my mom?" Kane cut his eyes up to the old man as he punched the last number into the dial pad.
"And the money you sent? I have my ways," Paulie said, angling his hat, crooked, back on his head.
"Brian didn't know about my mom," Kane said as the phone began to ring.
"Exactly my point! A man in a relationship shouldn't feel the need to keep secrets. You should have felt comfortable enough to call him and let him comfort you." Paulie was on a roll, pointing his finger, his voice rising. The true, expressive Italian side of his personality always ready to pop out at any given moment. Kane lifted a hand, trying to stop him from turning this into a lecturing rant.
"It's over, so there's no need to keep rehashing." Kane was momentarily interrupted from the conversation when the florist answered his call. "Hello, this is Kane over at La Bella Luna. I'm calling about our flowers for today." He kept his eyes on Paulie as the young woman on the other end assured him they would be there soon, they were just a little behind today. He thanked her and disconnected the call with Paulie still clearly waiting for some sort of response from him. Kane had no idea what to say and finally sat back, again scrubbing the frustration away from his face. Paulie knew him too well.
"They say it comes in threes. That was my third, so maybe it's over," Kane said, peeking at Paulie through the spread fingers covering his face.
"What's the third one?" Paulie asked, speculation on his face.
"I thought you knew everything," Kane teased back.
"I do, but remind me. I'm an old man with an old man's brain," Paulie shot back, and Kane barked out a laugh at that one. Paulie was as sharp as a tack, nothing got past him.
"Sure you did, and whatever, there's nothing old about that brain of yours! The third one was the bad customer experience this week. It stuck with me. It's been a long time since we hadn't met a customer's expectations." Kane was back to smiling. Paulie always had a way of doing this to him. He just eased every burden Kane ever carried.
"You resolved it. Standing reservation, twice a week on our slowest nights doesn't seem too bad," Paulie tossed back, standing again.
"I don't know, Paulie. There just seems something more to it." Kane lifted his arms, pushing them above his head, stretching out the tension of the last few minutes.
"Well, buck up and get dressed. The kitchen's ready, waitstaff's arriving, and the dining room's almost perfect, we just need those damn flowers." As if on cue, the back door buzzed.
"That should be them," Kane said, rising.
"Get dressed, Son, and let that pantywaist go. You need better than that. I can't die until I know you're taken care of, and you weren't ever gonna be taken care of with that one," Paulie said, swinging the office door back open.
"First, you aren't gonna die. Second, I can take care of myself!" Kane called out after him.
"Pfft," came through loud and clear as the office door slammed shut. His suit rattled on the hook behind the door, reminding him it was time to change for the night. Honestly, if Brian had been so important to him, why had he taken such special care in picking out this evening's wardrobe to impress a man who couldn't even utter a simple acknowledgement? He couldn't deny he'd been attracted to Avery Adams, his hard-on that night spoke volumes, but why should it matter how he looked if he was truly emotionally attached to Brian? No more stalling. The restaurant would open in about thirty minutes.
It was show time.
Chapter 6
Two brand new designer suits lay on his bed. One, the latest in Yves Saint Laurent's fall collection, and the other, a classic black from Hugo Boss. Avery looked over both of them with a still damp terry cloth towel wrapped around his waist. He couldn't decide which would be better for tonight. The latest casual style or the fallback black he always chose to wear when he wanted to represent well.
Avery padded across the plush carpet to his walk-in closet, pulling out a light purple dress shirt, along with two of the new satin neckties delivered earlier in the day. Both were of the season's most current colors, and on a backward thought, he grabbed a hanger with a solid white silk dress shirt. He carefully paired the shirts with the coordinating suits and laid the ties on each one before switching them, only to switch them back again.
"Damn it," he muttered as he stepped back to look at both designs. He'd never had a problem dressing himself. Frustrated, Avery grabbed his telephone on the nightstand and called his personal designer in California.
"Hello," she answered on the first ring.
"Colleen, the black Hugo Boss or the gray Yves Saint Laurent?" Avery didn't try to add to his lack of polite pleasantries. He got right down to business.
"For your dinner tonight?" Colleen was the only person on the planet who knew how important this dinner was to him. She'd worked feverishly with the local department store to get several new suits to him. They were tailored to his exact measurements, proving she could move small mountains.
"Yep," Avery said, still eyeing both, his foot tapping out his anxiety while he awaited her suggestion.
"Gray, if you haven't worn gray there before," she said quickly and efficiently. "Did they send over the purple French cuff and the matching tie?"
"Really? Wear those together? Are you sure?" Avery said, reaching down to switch the shirts back.