Page 18 of Third Time Lucky

ASHER

The restaurant is a maze of exposed wooden beams and metal scaffolding, its walls still unfinished and rough.

Debris and construction tools clutter the floor, while the skeleton of a kitchen can be seen through a wide-open doorway that will eventually be closed with swinging double doors.

Sounds of construction fill the air, from the buzz of power tools to the clanging of metal and the thumping of hammers.

The windows are covered in opaque plastic sheets.

Once I figure out a name, I’ll post a ‘coming soon’ sign facing the sidewalk to entice future diners.

We walk around the torn-apart building, plastic taped to different areas as the contractor we’ve hired repairs walls. One corner holds the appliances I ordered – all top-of-the-line and designed to make Aaron’s and my life easier once this place opens.

‘This is gonna be nice!’ Aaron boasts. ‘I like the flow.’

‘Me too. Maybe we won’t constantly be running into one another.’

We most recently worked together at a restaurant named DINE.

Yep, original. The kitchen was small, hot and a B-health code at best. Aaron still works there – he took my spot when I left after taking on so many private jobs during my off time that I couldn’t work both.

Catering, line work, private chef work, you name it, I’ve done it.

It was nice to cook anything that wasn’t greasy diner food served as ‘four-star cuisine.’ I wanted to be a five-star chef.

A culinary genius. Now, my clients know I am – Lucy’s orgasmic compliments prove it.

My grandmother – who helped Alyssa raise us kids when she couldn’t handle us boys – sent my siblings and me to college.

To my surprise, there was enough money to send me to the dreamiest culinary school on my list, right in the heart of Napa Valley.

After the tumultuous years of my late teens, I needed to escape and find a new environment to save myself from self-destruction.

So, I headed south to an unfamiliar city where I could start fresh.

Finally, it’s paid off, and I’m on my way to where I want to be – owner and head chef of my own restaurant.

And I’m doing it with Aaron – yapping like he’s Gordon Ramsay – by my side.

He turns my way with a growing smirk and it’s not because he thinks I’m funny. No. This is a look I know well – he’s got a secret.

‘Speaking of running into things,’ he says nonchalantly. ‘I bumped into Lucy last night.’

I turn his way, confused. ‘How? I saw Lucy last night.’

‘Before that, she was in my bar on a bizarre date, I think. Or maybe it was a job interview? Pretty sure if it was, she didn’t get it. Who knows. Anyway, I suspected it was her, so when the guy left shortly after he’d arrived, I decided to see if I was right. I was.’

He says ‘my bar’ like he owns it when he just spends too much time there.

I wonder why she didn’t mention this last night.

‘What did uh—’ I clear my throat, suddenly nervous. ‘What’d she have to say?’ I ask, unsure if I want to know what they spoke of.

‘She likes you—’ he says, walking away from me, his fingers trailing along the countertop near him.

‘— as friends,’ I finish his sentence.

He shakes his head.

‘Stop,’ I command, watching him come to a halt. ‘Why are you saying no to that? You didn’t talk about me, did you?’

He turns, making an about-face toward me. ‘Maybe?’ he says with a shrug.

‘Aaron, spill it.’

He laughs. ‘She thinks you’re “hot.”’

She thinks I’m hot ?

‘And “tall, talented, sweet, and tattooed,”’ he continues.

‘Please tell me she didn’t use the air quotes you just did.’

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. ‘That was me because those were her words, and obviously, I don’t see it, or I’d be dating you. Congratulations, buddy. Somehow, you’ve hooked her.’

My jaw drops. I’ve hooked her? How did I not notice it?

And then I realize he’s messing with me.

‘She didn’t actually say any of that, did she?’

He scrunches his face, silently insinuating that I’m a moron.

‘Yeah, she did,’ he insists. ‘Even told her friend she’s unexpectedly attracted to more than just your cooking.’

She said that ? My insides are fizzing with this news. Is that why I kept catching her staring at me last night? I’d convinced myself it was nothing but low-key hope on my end. Our conversation flowed much easier than the night before, but how did I misread this part?

‘Oh, also, I’m not supposed to tell you. She doesn’t want you to know until she understands it, which could be never, so keep your fat trap shut.’

I’m so confused – yet psyched? My heart is dancing in my chest, and my head is all over the place. I walk across the restaurant to the boxes full of booze waiting for opening day, pull out an unopened bottle of Jack and crack the seal, tipping it to my lips without using a glass.

‘I guess that bottle is yours now,’ Aaron says as if I’m costing him money.

‘You asshole. How am I supposed to keep this to myself!?’

‘Asshole? You should be thanking me that you’ve got a heads-up, ya tool! And whaddya mean “ how do you keep this to yourself ?” Pffft – easy, just don’t say anything.’

‘Says the gossip queen himself,’ I remind him.

He motions locking his lips and tossing an invisible key over his shoulder. ‘I can be quiet if I want to. Any other questions?’

‘A thousand. You do realize I invited Lucy to our class tonight, right?’

‘What? Why ?’ he moans.

‘She seemed interested.’

Shit. Maybe I misread that, too? She seemed interested in helping me prep, so I thought maybe she’d like a baking class, but maybe now I’m the pity date?

Don’t get me wrong, I was serious before.

Taking Lucy to prom wasn’t out of pity; it was because I respected the girl enough to know she needed a break from trying to process feelings she shouldn’t have had to experience at such a young age.

My God, I’m going to hyperventilate. I lift the bottle again, grimacing at the black licorice-tasting tranquilizer. This is so much better in something else.

‘You shouldn’t have told me,’ I say, feeling the weight of the new information settle heavily on my shoulders. ‘Now I’ve got to hold that information while figuring out how to approach it.’

‘Why you gotta approach anything? Just let things evolve,’ he suggests, as if it were that simple.

I shake my head, torn between the desire to take action and the fear of what that might do to her.

‘Did I ever tell you details about Lucy and my past?’ I ask, hesitating, because this is a line I never cross. I don’t talk about Kris. To anyone but my therapist. Ever. Until now.

‘She dated Kris, your only friend. Now deceased from teenage tragedy.’

‘Want to know the details?’

He looks at me confused with his head cocked. ‘You wanna talk about it?’

In the past, I’ve enforced the ‘don’t ask’ rule. It’s the one topic that’s always off the table. But that is eating me alive right now.

‘I dunno,’ I admit, a chaos of emotions swirling inside. ‘It’s all coming at me pretty hard lately, and it’d be nice to have someone on the outside’s opinion.’

He hops up onto the countertop, signaling his readiness to listen.

‘You know how firm I am about not drinking and driving?’

‘I know you’ll spend the next three hours here so the very small sips of Jack don’t affect you later, so yeah…’

‘Well, that’s because Kris and I had been sneaking Dad’s bourbon earlier that night, and made a really bad decision. I was in the car behind him when it happened.’

His jaw drops in disbelief. ‘You witnessed it?!’

‘I’m the guy who called 911,’ I say, feeling the memory crash over me like a wave – suffocating me as it always does.

‘Then I volunteered to tell his girlfriend, which was way harder than I’d anticipated.

A couple weeks after the funeral was her senior prom, and I’d heard through the grapevine that she was going to stay home.

I…’ I drop my head, the past unexpectedly clawing at me.

‘I couldn’t let that happen so, I borrowed one of Dad’s old suits and took her. ’

Aaron’s eyebrows are raised in shock. ‘Are there photos?’

‘Somewhere, I’m sure.’

‘Wow.’ He rubs the back of his neck. ‘Dad’s suits were bad.’

‘The suit isn’t the point of the story,’ I say, tipping up the bottle. ‘I’m now caught in an endless maze of regret, one moment feeling suffocated by his ghostly presence, the next finding a strange comfort in a woman he loved.’

‘Yikes,’ he says as he shakes his head, trying to process this information.

‘Wait a second.’ He grabs me by the arm, turning me around – his finger jabbing at the back of my left bicep.

‘Kris,’ he reads the name tattooed on my arm out loud.

‘He still haunts you? That’s why you’ve got the dude’s name tattooed on you in big bold letters? ’

‘He was my friend, assface, that’s why I got it. I try not to remember the rest.’

He walks around to face me, giving me a severe look. ‘Where’s my name? I’m your brother, don’t I deserve a spot for eternity on your skin?’

‘Die, and I’ll tattoo Aaron across my chest.’

‘Deal. Write that down,’ he says, grabbing a piece of scrap paper and a pen. ‘I want a guarantee.’

‘Shut up,’ I say, rolling my eyes while shoving his paper out of my face. ‘This is serious. I’ve always felt responsible, especially as I told her what happened that night.’

‘I probably would of too,’ he says, staring at me awkwardly. ‘Vegas is suddenly making much more sense.’

‘See. My history and Lucy’s is complicated to the point that I don’t know if “feelings” are allowed.’

‘I mean, I kinda see it, but it’s been twelve years. It’s only still complicated if you let it be.’

I shake my head, taking another swig. ‘What am I supposed to do now that I know she likes me?’

I groan, now pacing the restaurant, one hand clasped on the back of my neck and the other gripping this bottle of Jack like it’s bringing some peace. Memories I’ve attempted to forget flood through me, and I’d do anything to have a stop button on my brain right now.

Aaron scrunches his face in confusion. ‘You were a teenager.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Rough as it was back then, it sorta seems like it’s something you should both be over by now.’

I sit in one of the many chairs around the room, leaning forward, my elbows on my knees and the Jack in my hands. ‘People don’t get over death, douchebag. It sticks with you, painfully forever.’

‘Well, I guess you better pull up that therapy app from your phone and tell your psychiatrist because I think you’re being ridiculous.’

‘That’s great. You’re helpful. So glad we talked,’ I say sarcastically.

He reads the room, shooting me a glare, then letting out a heavy sigh as he walks closer towards me.

‘What if I invite Madi tonight, too? That way, it’s not weird because we’ll both have dates.’

‘I didn’t ask Lucy as a date. I just thought she might like to get out of the house. But that’s not a terrible idea.’

‘See, I’m a genius. You’re welcome.’

‘Don’t speak too fast,’ I say sarcastically. ‘Actually, don’t speak at all tonight.’

‘What?’

‘That’s right. Button it up, buster,’ I say, taking one more sip while my heart slows from nearing cardiac arrest. ‘If you say one word about any of this, in her presence, I’ll have witnessed two deaths.’

He furrows his brow. ‘You’re scary sometimes.’

‘Also, no romance. No touching. No lusting. We’re just a group of friends passing the time.’

‘Jeesh, OK, Bossy Betty.’ The way he nods his head suggests that he probably won’t follow any of my rules, so I need to be prepared in case he throws out a bomb.

‘Please, Aaron. I just talked to you about my feelings, which is code for this is a lot for me to work through, so don’t make things worse.’

He heaves another sigh, his heart taking over for his spitfire head. ‘Fine,’ he groans. ‘I’ll try to tame my tongue. And you should take that bottle home,’ he says. ‘You could use some liquid courage to shut up the ghost that lives in your head.’

‘No thanks. I’ve reached my limit already.’

‘Lightweight,’ Aaron teases.

I hang my head, exhaling deeply. This quickly spiraled out of control.

How on earth am I supposed to process this information?

She’s actually into me ? Romantically? My heart races, my mind reeling as I try to make sense of the situation.

Could it be possible that the tension between us wasn’t one-sided?

That the sparks I felt weren’t just figments of my imagination? I think I’m about to find out.