Save Me, Sinners

“Neither can I,” I mutter. As if Chester could say no, if Jake was of another persuasion. “All right… Chef Lacey, dazzle me. I desperately need it.”

Chapter 62

Janie

“And this one sauce Lacey made from Chimayo peppers she got f

rom a guy in New Mexico that’s managed to cultivate a consistent flavor that’s just… amazing,” I’m telling Mama in her hospital room. She looks excited, and it’s good to see her smiling. “Another one that I really like is the puya base—it’s sort of sweet. I think we narrowed it down to about six really fantastic, high-quality hot sauces, and Lacey and I already have dozens of ideas about how to use them. We’re going to roll out a different sauce each week for six weeks, make it a sort of event. I think this is going to put us on the map, Mama.”

She smiles at me, but there’s a sad edge to it. There’s nervousness in her eyes. “Sounds like you’re going to be a busy bee,” she says.

“Mama… I’ll still come see you,” I tell her. “Come on, have I ever been too busy for you?”

A sigh, and then she pats my hand where it’s resting on hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Just… it’s good that things are going so well for you, Janie. I’m proud of you.”

“I know you are, Mama,” I tell her. “Thank you. Have you… seen George or the boys lately?”

Mama shrugs her shoulders and waves a hand dismissively, but she won’t look at me as she does. “They’ve all got a lot going on, you know. I’m okay here. The nurses are very nice. And I think they’re sending me home soon.” She doesn’t sound excited about it. I wish she were.

“Well listen, I’ve got to go for now, but I’ll come by later, okay?”

“Okay, love,” she says, resigned. I wish I could just stay with her, keep her company, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I’ve got a business to run.

So I kiss her on the forehead and make my way out of the hospital. I break several speed limits on the way back to the lounge, and pray that I don’t get stopped. If I hadn’t spent part of the morning indulging in fantasies about Jake, I would have gotten to the market on time with Lacey and subsequently been able to spend real quality time with Mama without feeling rushed. But I make it to the lounge with a few minutes to spare and close off the office to change for the evening.

It’s a big night. No one knows that we’re launching the new line of hot sauces yet, or that we have any events planned, but Chester and I both pulled every local string we have between us to get as many people in tonight as we could manage. Lacey has a number of dishes ready to go, just some amuse-bouches the wait staff will be carrying around the lounge with a painstakingly scripted delivery to reveal the upcoming Season of Heat.

From the moment I leave Mama, I’m distracted. All I can think about is Jake and that kiss. All night I’m certain that it shows on my face and I keep having to check myself, make sure that I’m not smiling too much, that I look appropriately professional and not like I’m on some kind of drug.

Because the truth is, I am. I’m high, and I want to come down, but the only way to do that is to convince myself that Jake Ferry is a worthless excuse for a human being who will drop me like a hot rock as soon as he’s gotten his dick wet.

So why can’t I do that? It’s frustrating me. I’m a logical person. I shouldn’t allow my head to be turned by some playboy. But there’s something about him, and it’s more than the perfect looks. He understands what I’m talking about, what I mean when I talk about George, about the company. We’re both up against things that we don’t know if we can overcome. Although I will, I promise, I will fight.

But anyway, back to work.

The amuse-bouches are a hit, and once they’ve made it around the lounge I’m finally able to be distracted enough by the praise and congratulatory cheers about the announcement. Lacey and I mingle among the guests and after an hour of being excited about the hot sauce line I manage to forget about Jake entirely.

Now all I have to do is keep forgetting about him. Easy.

Once the place closes down, Chester pours shots. Technically against the rules and that whiskey isn’t cheap, but we do have reason to celebrate. Hell, even Gloria gets a shot.

“To Janie Hall,” Chester cheers, raising a glass to me. “Our fearless leader.”

“And to Lacey Ming,” I add, cheering my chef, “the brilliant talent behind this place, without whom I’d be forced to cook and we’d all be out of a job.”

We laugh together, and take our shots, and then it’s back to work. Closing duties are assigned, but the benefit of being the boss is no longer having to mop floors or wash tables. There has to be a perk to balance out the stress, right?

I stop cold—or, more honestly, hot—when I walk out of the building. Leaning against a yellow Lamborghini is my drug, and in a second I’m high again. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Jake says, sheepish, “I thought we had a good time yesterday and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since… , so, I decided to gamble.”

“Did you, now?” I wonder. “The stakes?”

“Up the coast,” Jake says, approaching slowly, “there is this little cove. Something about the shape of it makes the water unbelievably calm. Clear blue, right to the bottom. Tall, gorgeous cliffs all around it, perfect white sand… and a little house right on the beach. Isolated and quiet, the kind of place that just sucks the stress right out of you.”

We’re almost nose to nose, and I realize too late that his fingers are gently caressing my arm.

“What do you say?” he whispers, his words warm on my lips. “I can have you back by dinner tomorrow.”