Devour, p.8
Devour, page 8
“What was that?”
Michael waved it off with a shrug, sure she had not seen it. “Probably another telemarketer.”
She continued to stare.
“Or a wrong number.”
With a snort, she said, “Dad, just so you know, I know when you know something, but try to look like you don’t.”
“What?”
The dimpled smirk. “You know what I’m talking about. And you know I’m right.”
After a long beat and an equally long sigh, he said, “It’s from my Dad.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
“Nattie—”
“Dad, seriously? You said he was…dead, like, I don’t know…decades ago? As in you’ve never once mentioned him. Well, okay, one time—which was to tell me that…oh, he was like DEAD!”
By now, she was approaching hysteria and he knew there was no easy or delicate way to say it, so he quietly said, “I lied.”
As she went stone cold, the silence was deafening. This went on for five minutes until they were approaching Cibo. Nodding toward the store, he said, “Do you—”
“No!”
“Natalie, don’t let—”
“I’m not hungry.”
He chuckled, “There’s a first.”
Michael pulled into the parking lot. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. That champagne knocked me on my butt. Sorry I didn’t get to cook your—”
“It’s not a big deal.”
He sat and waited. When it appeared she was not going to budge, he reached for the door handle.
“We don’t tell lies, Dad.”
She was breaking his heart and did not even know it.
“Not you and me. Others maybe. But not us.”
He turned to look at her. She was fighting back tears.
“Honey, you’re right. But this is…different.”
“No,” she spat, shaking her head. “Truth is unequivocal.”
“Wow.”
He waited a beat. “I’m just going to pop in. You sure—”
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
Desperate to make things right, he said, “Honey, when you get back from Europe, let’s do something—”
“You can’t buy my love, Dad.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” Shaking her head, Natalie mumbled, “Isn’t that what most of our lives are about?”
“Surely you can’t mean that.”
“I can. And don’t call me Shirley.”
He wanted to laugh in order to lighten the mood, but the moment was too tense.
“Seriously, Mom and I just wanted you home more. Not always running the food machine.”
“But hon, it’s given us everything that—”
“Dad, I would live in a broken down apartment in the Mission District and bike to school if it meant I had more of you—undistracted and unencumbered.”
“But I did it all for you.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“And Mom?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“See?”
“See what?”
“Dad, all I’ve ever wanted was you. All you want is…more. Time is short and passing us by.”
“When did you get so…enlightened?”
“Always have been. Maybe you just weren’t there to see it.”
“Ouch!”
“Sorry.”
“No, that’s you just being truthful.”
“Well, since I am, and we have a few minutes before we hit school, there’s one more thing I have to say.”
“Oh boy.”
“Yep.”
“C’mon…” he said. “As you would say, dish.”
A long beat, then, “Why didn’t you and Mom try to have another child?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You were everything we dreamed of—everything we could even imagine.”
“But what about me?”
“What?”
“Did you ever stop to think about me? A sibling, playmate, a best friend. Think about it. Maybe I wanted, or needed, an accomplice, a confidant. I mean, you both had siblings. I’d like to have had one.”
“I’m sorry, Nat,” he said, hanging his head. “Guess I never thought about it that way.”
“Of course not.”
He whipped his head in her direction. “Why’d you say that?”
She knew she was being tough, but she had had enough. With a sigh, she managed, “Because you were just thinking about yourself.”
“Double ouch.”
“Truth hurts.”
“Yeah, but that sucks, Nattie.”
“Then, truth sucks.”
“No doubt.”
She was killing him, and all he could do was endure it.
Wrapping a strand of hair behind her ear—the same way she always did when she got serious and wanted to be heard—she quietly said, “Dad, I don’t mean to be a bitch. I just want you to know what’s really important.”
“And I’m trying.”
She turned to stare out the window. “Maybe not hard enough.”
“Shit, Nattie. Where’s this coming from?”
“Maybe it’s been coming a long time. And I just didn’t have the balls to say it.”
“Honey!”
“Sorry, Dad. I know I’m pushing the line here. But it’s also because I’m…I’m sad.”
“Why?”
“Because I know it’s coming to an end.”
“What?”
“This relationship. At least in the way it’s been.”
His heart felt as though it were caving in on itself. He fought to catch his breath. “No, it isn’t.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Not if you don’t want it to.”
“Do you, Dad? Want it to?”
“Want it to end? Hell no!”
“Then let’s do something about it.”
“Holy shit, Nattie, you’re killing me!”
“Daddy, I love you. More than anything. But it’s time for me to fly. You know? Spread my wings and explore. And all that other happy horseshit.”
She could have knocked him over with a feather. Checking his watch, he saw they needed to get moving, so he reached for the door.
She grabbed his arm and started to cry. “It’s just that I’m upset Dad. I know I just shit in your lap. And I’m sorry. But…I mean, this is a lot to drop on your girl. Seventeen years and I had no idea I had a grandfather. And now, just when everything was perfect…you lied to me.”
“And I cannot tell you how sorry I am. Truly. It breaks my heart to know I’ve hurt you.” Michael could feel the buried pain of decades bubbling up. “Okay, here you go. Remember the story about my hand? And how I told you I hurt it?”
She gave a nod.
“Well, Dad broke it. But that was after he locked me in a closet. After beating me. So hard…that I screamed. But what I also didn’t tell you was the reason you’ve never met my brother.”
He turned from her and looked out the window, trying to garner the strength to keep going. “He, uh, has been in and out of trouble for years. And likely on the run for the same amount of time.” He took a breath. “And the reason you’ve never met my father…is because he’s been in San Quentin for over 30 years.”
Her expression was horrified. “C’mon, Dad it can’t be—”
He nodded. “It can.”
She stared at him, waiting. Knowing there was no turning back, he pushed forward, confident this could tear the fabric of who they were. But he had to say it; if not, this could alienate her for the rest of her life. He took another deep breath. “He’s been in prison for…the murder of my mother.”
Time stood still.
Then it went rushing into a wall of pain. She could not hold it any longer and burst out sobbing.
She sobbed for several minutes until she finally caught her breath. Wiping her face on the sleeves of her sweatshirt, she took an enormous breath and let it go. Her eyes were closed. “Well…” she whispered, then stopped as though holding her breath. “I’m pretty certain you will never be able to top that one-two-punch.”
A tiny grin peeked through a cascade of curls covering her face. “Yeah, that was some epic shit.”
Brushing her tears away, Michael said, “I promise, like super-duper, hella-epic pinky-promise…times infinity…that I will never, ever lie to you again. No matter what. As long as I live.” Holding up a curled pinky, he waited for her to lock it in. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” she said, hesitating before interlocking fingers. “And you better not,” she squeezed.
“I won’t.”
After another long beat, she leaned across and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry for your pain.”
“Thank you.”
“And…I’m hungry.”
Grinning through teary eyes, he released a long and pained sigh. “Be right back.”
As they exited the bridge, Michael sipped the last of his coffee, returning the empty cup to the center console before saying, “Natalie, can you better understand now why I never shared those stories?”
“It is pretty f’d up,” she said so quietly he could scarcely hear her.
“You said it.”
Less than five minutes from school, he reached over and squeezed her knee. “I guess one of the reasons I love you so much…the reason you mean everything to me is, well, you’re my heart, and I’ve wanted little else in the world than to provide you with all the very best. I also never wanted you to have to even imagine experiencing a life like mine.” He paused, catching her biting her lip. “Instead, I always wanted you to have the complete opposite of my childhood.”
She stared out the window at a disgruntled mother who was pulling her child behind her along the sidewalk—yanking his arm with too much force—all the while with her eyes glued to the smartphone in her hand. Natalie shook her head at the scene.
“I get it, Pops. I do. I’m sorry you had to go through that shit. And frankly, I can’t believe you turned out as normal as you have.”
He accented a grin with a wink. “Right?”
“For the most part,” she winked in return—although the gesture looked more like she had something in her eye.
“Thanks,” he chuckled.
“Alrighty then. Are we still on for six, or…”
He frowned.
“Uh oh.”
“No, no, it’s all good. But how about this. When you’re done, grab an Uber and come to me. There’s no way I can get away by 6. Besides, I’ll make you something super fantastical for dinner.”
She chirped a semi-enthusiastic, “Yippee!”
He looked at her, hoping she would find a way to forgive him. Pulling over in front of the school, he parked and turned to face her.
“One other thing, Nat. Jasmine will likely be working the front, so just—”
“Dad, it’s cool. Really. I’m a big girl. She is too. Shit happens, and we all grow up,” she smiled. “And sometimes we move on.”
With an expression that was one part relief and one part pride, he felt relieved to be transparent with her and was proud of the young woman she was becoming.
Smiling, he said, “Epic.”
15
Sticky Wicket
Running a quick check of supplies, Michael passed through the restaurant with his pen and clipboard. He did this every day as a way of staying on top of things, knowing it left little to chance. He enjoyed the order and precision. Along the way, he checked out the tiny new video cameras Hector mounted in discreet places. He did not have the time to test them out, but knew if Hector was in charge, all would be fine.
The front door whipped open, allowing the sounds of the traffic to flood the room. Jasmine entered smiling. “Well, hello. Can’t believe you beat me here this morning,” she checked her watch. “Especially knowing you were out celebrating with your girls last night.”
“Yeah, I knew we had a lot to do and just wanted to get ahead of it,” he said, thinking how she was more beautiful each time he saw her. Approaching her, he hesitated for a split second, then kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear, “If you get any more beautiful, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
She released a tiny hum. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage something.”
Taking her hand, he smiled. “Come with me.”
They wove their way through the restaurant, through the kitchen, and into the rear entrance where deliveries were made. It was still early, so traffic in the garage was negligent. As they stepped outside the rear doors, he spun them around, and stopped to look at the entrance.
“Looks amazing, right?”
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary and with a crooked smile, she said, “What exactly am I looking at? Or for? I don’t see anything different.”
“Exactly,” he grinned and said, “See the new cameras?” Pointing to various places in and around the loading dock, he added, “See that spot over the door? Looks like the same spotlight that’s always been there. And there?” He pointed to two framed lights on either side of the double doors.
“Uh, no? It all looks pretty much like it always has. I mean, I see the old cameras…that look like they’ve been here forever.”
“Good. Now, come with me,” he said, entering the kitchen. “Now, look around and show me where the new security cameras Hector installed are. Look closely, you’ll see them,” he grinned.
She looked. Then stared. And looked again. “Yeah, not really. I see the same—”
“Mission accomplished.”
He proceeded to show her how the tiny new cameras were hidden in light panels, light switches, and inside air vents. He took her to the freezer and showed the thermal cameras located in boxes in four corners—all of which looked like bolted-down power outlet covers. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Seeing that she was getting cold, he took her by the hand and left the freezer, snaking his way toward the wine cellar, pointing to cameras all along the way.
Back in the main room, she finally said, “Hector did a great job. I remember his talking about it, but as you’ll recall, I was on the phone booking reservations while you two talked. You’re happy, I take it.”
“Ecstatic. It’ll help us keep a better eye—pun intended—on both security and inventory.”
“Yeah, when four-figure bottles of wine start disappearing, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Pun intended,” she grinned.
“That’s funny,” he said, stepping up to a workstation to prepare a French press. “I’ll get this started, and how about you pull the reservation book. Looks like our graduation party is going to be packed for all seatings. We may even have to extend opening and closing times.”
“Good problem to have.”
Nearly two hours had passed when Michael—not looking up from his legal pad— asked Jasmine, “So, how was the date last night? The one with the new guy. I forgot to ask.”
Putting down her pen, a grin stretched across her face as she took a sip of coffee. “Well, let’s just say interesting.”
Nodding, he said, “There’s a solid indication it was ordinary.”
“Very funny. But I get it,” she chuckled. “Seriously, it was nice. Just odd.”
“Odd,” he said, not looking up. “Another riveting endorsement.”
“It was kinda funny,” she said with a question. “But he looked at me like he could…eat me. Or maybe he just had a bad case of—”
“Lust?” Michael looked up with a smirk. “Sounds tempting.”
She smacked his arm. “All right. We can talk about that another time. Anyhow, no, wait a minute. On second thought, I want to circle back to something. Last night. At my house. Before the date. Was that…a fluke? A fake out? A faux pas? Or—”
“A sign of things to come?”
“Wait. Was that a question or a statement?”
“Maybe whatever you’d like it to be. Now, about the Beverly Hills restaurant I trust will be opening soon. Can we discuss that? That is, if you were done discussing Mr. Lust.”
“James is nice. A gentleman, actually. Talked all about me. My schooling, sports, what I liked. I mean, it was pretty awesome. A real listener, not just a talker. Which we did for hours. In fact, we didn’t even make it to the movies.”
“What’s he do?”
“General Contractor for some big developments in Carmel, Monterey, and Silicon Valley. Lives in Tiburon. Divorced with three kids—one away at college, two married. One with a kid. A family guy. Sounds like he married super early and is just now getting back into the dating scene.”
She stopped to take a sip.
“Good for you,” he grinned. “I think. How did you say you two met?”
Setting down her cup, she frowned. “There’s another funny thing. We bumped into one another at the Ferry Building. I was shopping for something for my mother, and he had just finished lunch and was looking for gifts for a friend.”
Michael wondered how she felt, knowing he had put her in a complicated space—his being married, and her not, and their working together.
“Okay, enough about that,” she said. “Let’s get back to the Hills. Beverly, that is.”
“Nice,” he laughed. “Let’s talk investors. Still think we’re looking good to open by year end?”
She offered a hearty nod.
“And with the same two investors we currently—”
Her frown interrupted him.
“Uh oh. What?”
“Well, we have a bit of a sticky wicket.”
“Like Nattie says, Dish.”
“Right. Looks like one’s in and one’s out.”
He put his head in his hands. “I thought we were a lock. You know how much—”
“Yes, I know,” she said with a squeeze to his arm. “Franklin Lancaster is still in—very much a go. You know how much he loves your food, admires your work ethic, and has always gotten your vision. In fact, he’s willing to put up double what he originally offered.”
Michael’s eyebrows shot up.
