I’ve already dated one guy who thinks that his money makes him better than me. I don’t need another one.
* * *
Things don’t improve when I get home. Monday night drinking is at our apartment, and Piper’s emptying a packet of chips listlessly into a bowl. Gabby, Katie and Wendy are due any minute now, and Miki’s going to Skype in.
I’ve barely seen Piper all week. When I’m home in the evenings, she’s working at her restaurant, and in the mornings, she’s still asleep when I leave for work. “Are you okay?” I ask. “Is something the matter?”
She turns to me. Her eyes are red, as if she’s been crying. “Can I talk to you for a second, Bailey?”
“Of course, sweetie. What’s wrong?”
“Sebastian Ardalan ate at my restaurant on Saturday,” she says. Her voice is oddly flat. I would have thought that she’d be squealing and dancing a little jig. A two-star Michelin chef eating at Piper’s restaurant? That’s huge, and her lack of excitement is conspicuous.
”Why aren’t you more excited?”
“I was waiting on his table because Kimmie didn’t show,” she says. “And I overheard a little bit of his conversation.” She doesn’t meet my gaze. “Sebastian Ardalan said that Aladdin’s Lamp wouldn’t last six months. A year tops, he said.”
“Oh honey,” I put down my laptop bag and envelop her into a hug. “He doesn’t know that. Don’t listen to him.”
“No,” Piper’s voice is muffled into my shoulder. “He’s right. His words hurt because he’s absolutely correct. And I don’t know what to do to prevent it.”
I love Piper. She’s like a sister to me, but she’s at her best in the kitchen, comfortable with her herbs and spices, combining ingredients and enjoying the creative process. Unfortunately, it takes more than creative genius to run a successful restaurant. You have to formulate a menu that’s familiar, yet exciting. You have to find and hire attentive wait staff in a city where it’s hard to find good talent. You have to know how to get reviewers to review your restaurant, and how to create buzz. There’s so much more to it than just cooking and the New York restaurant scene is a cauldron. It will burn you.
I wish there was something I could tell her, something I could do to make this better. She was there for me, readily and without question, when I needed her after I left Trevor. She’s always been there for me. It kills me to see her hurting like this.
“What can I do?” I don’t know what else to say. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make this better.
She sighs and pulls away. “I don’t know, Bailey,” she confesses. “Sebastian Ardalan loved my food. Once upon a time, that would have been the highlight of my month. Now, all I can do is stress about what he said.” Her expression turns wistful. “It used to be so much simpler.”
“You are doing a great job,” I say loyally. “You had the place dumped on you. You are doing fantastic.”
She shakes her head. “No,” she corrects me. “He was right. I’m going to fail.”
A sudden flash of anger runs through me at the power of careless words. Trevor’s corrosive words convinced me I couldn’t play pool. Daniel’s warning about the press on Friday night had sent me into a tailspin. And now stupid, gorgeous Sebastian Ardalan has hurt my friend with his throwaway words. Guys should not be allowed to talk, ever. Their only use is to look pretty and open jars with too-tight lids. “Listen to me. You cannot let some stupid arrogant celebrity who probably hasn’t been inside a kitchen in months knock you off your game. You are a fucking excellent chef, and everything’s going to be okay.”
She nods, unconvinced at the start, but as I stare into her eyes, willing her to believe me, she nods with more faith. “Okay,” she giggles, “If I agree with you, will you stop staring at me? It’s getting creepy. Oh, by the way, there was a FedEx slip on the door. They tried to deliver a parcel for you.”
I let her go, barely registering her words. I’m angry with Sebastian and this time, I’m not going to run away. I’m going to do something about it. “I’m not expecting anything,” I tell her, going into my bedroom to grab my coat.