The Killing League

8.

Nicole

Nicole Candela was nervous. She wasn’t scared. She’d been scared before and knew what real fear was. This wasn’t it.

But looking at the empty dining room of her restaurant, which was about to open its doors for the first time ever, she felt an anxiety that was very close to genuine fear. What if the dining room remained empty? What if none of her friends actually showed up? What if they all drove together and got stuck in some monumental traffic jam?

There was sure to be a critic or two coming tonight as well. They would note the totally empty dining room and the whole thing would be over before it even got started.

All right, she thought, let’s get it under control, Nicky. She circled the small room, with its bare oak timbers and old world plaster. It was a rustic setting, with wide plank floors and soft linen window treatments. She’d kept the tables fewer in number than the room would allow, which she knew was bad business. Conventional business wisdom said you were supposed to cram as many as possible into the space. But she hated restaurants where you couldn’t move your arm for fear of elbowing another diner in the ribs.

With her restaurant, she decided she was going to create a place she would like, and eliminate all of the things she hated about other restaurants, whether it was technically good for business or not.

She crossed the dining area and stood in the wine cellar as she called it, even though it was actually a small anteroom off the dining room, and it was stocked with her favorites. She’d handpicked them, going not for flashy names but for regional vintages that she’d explored herself.

She thought back on that period in her life. It had been after she sold her first and only interview to People magazine — it had been a business decision. She hated opening up her private life, talking about what had happened between her and Jeffrey Kostner in those dark woods, but she needed the money for her dream. It had been $800,000 for a two-day interview.

The money had put her through a grueling education at the Culinary Institute of California, followed by a long sojourn through Europe and Asia, healing her mind and body while educating herself on local and regional cuisine.

The little bit of money leftover had been just enough to start the restaurant.

She made her way into the kitchen.

The smell of food being prepped met her like a gentle wave. Lemon. Garlic. Onion. The slight heat of the ovens. She had a staff of four. Most were friends from her graduating class at the Institute. Combined with three wait staff, a hostess, and herself, it was a small affair. But then again, that was the point.

Everything she had worked so hard for was now riding on the success of Thicque.

She had chosen the name of her restaurant as a joke. It was a French bastardization of the word Thick — which is where she liked to be nowadays. Right in the thick of things. She still never felt all that comfortable alone. So she surrounded herself with other chefs, food, customers, and more than a few sharp knives.

“Nicky, where’s the sole?” Paolo Gerrar was her sous chef, a young understudy recently graduated from the Culinary Institute of Nevada.

“The walk-in. Below the eggs,” she said.

“Who’s ready to kick some ass?” a man said behind her.

Nicole turned to face Jay Lucerne, her business partner and unofficial co-manager of the restaurant. They had met years ago in culinary circles and Jay had put up 49% of the money for the restaurant. It was the way Nicole liked it; he had almost as much at stake as she did, but ultimately she had control. Control was something very important in her life, although she and her therapist were working to let a little bit more of it go whenever possible.

“I’m ready,” Nicole said.

Lucerne smiled. He was a round little man dressed impeccably as always. Nicole knew that Lucerne had approached the director of the Institute to find out who was the top chef in her graduating class. Nicole’s name was at the top of the list. Lucerne had introduced himself and a friendship had developed, ultimately resulting in their business venture.

He came over and Nicole gave him a hug, liking as always the feel of his taut little belly.

Nicole closed her eyes and did a silent prayer. After all she’d been through she desperately wanted the night, and the restaurant, to be a smashing success.