Page 15

Jade

T he next morning my alarm blares , a piercing sound that I’m sure has the power to resurrect the dead. My hand slaps at it blindly until the noise stops. For a fleeting moment, I bask in the hazy warmth of last night’s memory—Rhys’s lips, their heat and undeniable pull. I roll onto my side, pressing my face into the pillow, trying to quell the electric current still zipping through me.

I groan, my body protesting as I force myself upright. Today’s not a day for lingering in bed. I’m meeting with Chef Makayla Milne at Under the Sea. I’ve already rescheduled once, and I can’t screw this up. Thankfully, I’ve found a way forward with the appetizer plates, so I just have to hope what I’ve created speaks to them.

With a deep breath, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and plant my feet on the floor. My hands find their way through my tangled hair, raking it back into a semblance of order. I can’t think about that kiss and the invitation it offers right now.

I drive over to my studio where my creations await, their sandy exteriors rough beneath my fingertips. Spun from clay and fire, they’re my interpretation of Makayla’s vision brought to life. At least I hope so.

Gathering the sample place setting piece by piece, I nestle each one into its designated slot within the protective case. Plates, bowls, mugs, all with the illusion of being kissed by the seashore, waiting to cradle culinary masterpieces.

I sling the strap over my shoulder and head back out the door to Under the Sea. Makayla’s seal of approval is just a short drive over the Golden Gate. Her partner, Serena, will be there too, her discerning eye just as crucial. Their restaurant is a sanctuary of taste, and my pottery is intended as a canvas for their art.

As I drive, I rehearse my explanations in my head until the words flow. I’m ready to stand before them, present what I’ve created, and explain how it illuminates their vision.

I pull into the parking lot of Under the Sea. With the case in hand, I approach the entrance. It’s showtime.

The cool interior of the restaurant envelops me as I step through its doors, and even though they’re not yet open for the day, the hostess directs me to the right place. I greet Makayla and Serena and work quickly to set the table, revealing my pieces one at a time. The exterior of the pottery I’ve created for them mimics sand—grainy and textured—while the inside gleams flat white, a pristine canvas for Makayla’s culinary delights.

“See this?” I gesture to the third plate, cradling it carefully in my hands. “I had to rethink the square design. There were issues with cracking. But this—” I place the now-round plate on the table, satisfaction blooming within me. “—this evokes a sense of yin and yang, which I believe complements your vision for symmetry.”

Makayla’s silence is a weight, her eyes scrutinizing as she lifts each piece. Serena suddenly stands, her chair scraping against the floor, and my heart stutters. Uncertainty fills me, dragging up bitter echoes of my father’s voice, his smug assurance that I’ll fail and come crawling back to him.

But then Serena returns, not with words of rejection, but with a sea green tablecloth, which she unfolds and drapes over the table. As the fabric settles, an alchemical transformation occurs. Makayla’s eyes light up with a spark I hadn’t seen before.

“Jade, this… It’s like gazing into the depths of the sea,” she muses. Her fingers brush against the cloth, then dance over the edges of my pottery. “The sand-like exteriors, the contrasting white interiors—it’s all so elemental. I knew our ideas were good, but the way you’ve brought this to life…”

A tide of excitement sweeps through the room, washing away my earlier fears. We lean in closer, our heads nearly touching as we explore the possibilities laid out before us. The idea of adding jewel tones to the presentation surfaces, but we cast it aside almost as quickly as it emerges. The purity of the white is a canvas where Makayla’s culinary art will shine.

“Jade, you’ve not only met my vision, you’ve exceeded it.” Makayla stands. “This is exactly what we were looking for. I can’t wait to move forward.”

Serena, ever the silent sentinel, steps forward and hands me a check. My fingers tremble slightly as I take it, feeling the weight of their trust—and my future—in the paper’s texture. Nods are exchanged, and I assure them that two hundred dinner plates, and one hundred each of bread plates, salad plates, appetizer plates, dessert plates, coffee mugs, and soup bowls will all be delivered on schedule.

I float back out to my car as the restaurant is coming to life, preparing for their lunch customers. I’m buoyed by a sense of achievement that’s entirely mine. The check is a tangible affirmation of my work, of my talent. It’s a beacon of freedom from my father. I can do this. I am doing this. I’ve built something on my own, without family money or influence, and I’m headed straight for the bank.

Once parked in a lot, I step out and stretch, rolling my shoulders back. The bank is just a short walk away, but before I can enter, an unhoused man shuffles toward me. Today’s been kind, and it feels right to pay it forward.

“Here,” I say, pulling out a five-dollar bill and offering it to him. Our gazes lock for a moment, and he nods gratefully.

“Good luck,” I tell him.

“God bless you,” he replies.

I’m steps away when his voice stops me cold. “Is your name Jade?”

The question sends a shiver through me, an instinctual alert that this is more than a chance encounter. “Y-yes,” I stammer, turning back to face him.

His hand lifts in a gesture meant to soothe, but my pulse doesn’t slow. “Sorry for startling you. I’m Alan Frasier.” The name rings distant bells of recognition. “We’ve met,” he continues. “I used to work for Allerton Mining.”

The connection strikes a nerve, curiosity twining with caution as I take in his disheveled appearance. “What are you doing here, Alan?” I ask, my happiness tempered by a growing concern.

“Nothing good,” he admits, looking around nervously before his gaze again settles on mine. “Could we…talk?”

“Of course,” I reply, surprising myself. “I need to run into the bank first, but there’s a deli nearby. We can grab something to go?”

He nods and gestures for me to proceed inside. After depositing the check, I reemerge and lead us to a small park just a block away that has a cute little deli with box lunches. I order us each a box, knowing I’ll probably leave mine with him.

Food in hand, together we settle on a bench in the shade of an old tree. He unwraps his sandwich with shaky hands, the bread trembling like leaves in the wind.

“Listen, Jade,” he begins. “I was part of your brother JP’s inner circle.” His eyes meet mine, filled with a haunting desperation. “But I discovered things…things I felt I should expose. But instead, they framed me, blacklisted me. I can’t get work, can’t live—”

“Slow down, Alan,” I interject, handing him a napkin. “What did you find out? What are you saying about Allerton Mining?”

He clenches the napkin, fear in his eyes. I can see the conflict in him, wanting to speak but terrified of the consequences. The man before me is broken but not defeated. A spark of defiance still flickers within.

“Help me, Jade. Please,” he pleads, and his vulnerability tugs at me, a reminder of what’s at stake for those who stand against powerful entities.

“Okay, Alan,” I say softly, the protector in me stepping forward. “I’ll try to help you. Tell me everything.”

“Like I said, they framed me, blacklisted me,” Alan says. “But it’s bigger than that, Jade. There are things your brother has been hiding for years, things that could ruin the company.”

“What kind of things?” I press, my stomach tightening. “That’s what I need to know.”

He glances around nervously, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Bribery. Environmental violations. And something about the Waldorf deal… Something doesn’t add up.”

My mouth drops open, but before I can ask more, he shakes his head. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

I can’t let this go now. I lean in closer. “Alan, what did you find?” My voice is steady, though my heart thuds against my ribcage.

His eyes are wide, his gaze skittering around the park like a caged animal looking for an escape.

“Jade, I—” He cuts off abruptly, his attention snapping to something over my shoulder. Panic flashes across his face. “They found me,” he mutters.

Before I can respond, he stands, his movements erratic. I glance behind me, my heart pounding, but see nothing unusual—just the quiet of the park. Still, a prickling unease creeps up my spine, as though someone is watching from the shadows.

“Here.” I fumble in my purse and shove my business card into his trembling hand, along with both box lunches. He barely glances at my card before stuffing it into his pocket. “Email me,” I urge.

He nods once, and then he’s off, moving with an urgency that sets my nerves on edge. “I will,” he calls, already several paces away.

I watch him disappear down the sidewalk, my thoughts swirling. His revelation echoes in my mind. Alan may not be completely stable, but he most likely didn’t fabricate this entire thing. If JP is hiding something, it’s enough to destroy lives. Alan’s proof of that. As I leave the park, the City’s noise feels louder, more abrasive. I clutch my bag tighter, the sense of unseen danger refusing to let go.