“Perfect. We’ll see you first thing.”
After we hang up, I find myself practically running into my apartment, making a beeline for the kitchen where I get to work whipping up a few dozen fruit tarts to distract myself from the stress of keeping this all a secret from Cole and anxiety over whether or not this is all actually happening. But even giving in to my sweet tooth and tiring myself out over a hot oven aren’t enough to help me fall asleep.
Andre and Tony come to pick me up at six-thirty in the morning, meaning I should have had about five hours of sleep. Unfortunately, I spent all night staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of the jumbled puzzle that has become my life this past week.
I twisted and turned in bed all night, criticizing myself for thinking this would never happen so soon and getting myself caught in this position. Though to be fair, when you take your chances with both hooking up with your ridiculously good looking celebrity chef boss, and the best friend who promises you a financing miracle to start your dream business, you don’t expect both of those long shots to come to fruition. Especially not at the same time.
So at dawn, while the streets are still relatively quiet with the sound of the city sleeping, I descend the stairs of my apartment toward the two well-dressed men standing in front of the Mercedes AMG, and find I’m completely wired and nervous from a lack of sleep and way too much pre-bedtime sugar that’s probably still circulating in my system.
I smile at Tony, who bows his head as he plucks his sunglasses from his collar and puts them on. Then I shake hands with Andre, impressed by the excellent cut of his suit. The kind of suit that makes you wonder why any guy would ever wear something else.
“Morning,” I say, my voice a little sluggish even though my body’s tingling.
“Morning,” Andre says, smiling with positivity. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And you.”
“I don’t usually enter into business with people I’ve met only once,” he says.
“Well, I guess Tony talks enough for both of us anyway.”
Tony jabs me gently in the arm.
“He’s certainly filled me in a lot about you,” Andre says warmly. “All good things, of course.”
I look at Tony and blush a little.
“Well…I love him too. Where’s Lou?”
“Oh, he’s back in Dallas doing some work. He left me with the fun stuff—speaking of which…”
Andre turns back to the car and reaches in to the open passenger side window, pulling out a leather-bound folder.
“I’ve got the contract right here,” he says, searching within his blazer pocket for a pen, “for you to sign.”
“Um, actually,” I say, holding up a palm, “maybe we should look at the locations first.”
I glance from Andre to Tony, who’s glaring at me stonily. Andre keeps the smile, but raises an inquisitive eyebrow.
“I mean, I’m sure the contract is great,” I explain quickly, “and I’m sure Tony has done a great job of making it fair and everything but…it’s just that if I do sign that contract and we end up struggling to find a location, I’m not sure that….well…”
“Willow!” Tony hisses under his breath, as if Andre can’t hear him.
“You know, location is just really important,” I go on, to both of them now, “and it can be really tough finding the right place. My last restaurant struggled because—”
“Willow!” Tony interrupts. “Are you seriously doing this now? Do you think that—”
“It’s alright,” Andre says in a calm, breezy voice, putting a hand on my shoulder. He tosses the contract back into the car. “Look, we want you because of your principles and your knowledge. You’re a creative type, and I’ll be damned if I become ‘the man’ forcing you to toe the line.”
Tony sighs, his face relaxing as if he just evaded certain death.
“Besides,” Andre says, “I’m sure you’re gonna love at least one of the places I’m gonna show you today.”
“I hope so,” I say. “But I’m gonna need some coffee before I can love anything this early in the morning.”
After a quick pit stop for the darkest, strongest roast I can find, we get back in the car where Tony’s enthusiasm almost feels like a fourth passenger.
“You’re gonna love this place,” Tony says as we pull up at an address downtown, outside what looks like an abandoned warehouse.
We follow Andre as he wiggles the key into the lock, Tony so excited he’s almost skipping around me, then enter the vast space.
Inside, huge pillars support a ceiling of exposed pipes, red brickwork textures the walls, and three floor-to-ceiling windows allow the morning light to cast itself through the dust onto the rubbled floor.
“Isn’t this incredible?” Tony says, stepping in front of me. “Doesn’t this just scream ‘style’ to you? It’s like Warhol’s factory, a place for real creativity to explode. Jesus…” Tony shakes his head in marvel, slapping his palm against one of the pillars. “The things I could do with a canvas like this.”
“It’s amazing,” I say, taking it all in. “But it’s too big.”
Tony looks at me doubtfully, and Andre raises that eyebrow.
“What do you mean?” Tony says, sounding a little like a child being told Santa doesn’t exist. “You could seat three hundred people in here!”
I shake my head.
“How would we be able to serve quality, well-prepared food in those numbers right off the bat when we’re still struggling to make a name for ourselves? We’d have to serve Big Macs, and even then we’d probably struggle. And can you imagine what a place this big would feel like during the quiet weekday hours? It would feel like an empty theater.”
“So we’ll make this part a bar,” Tony says, moving toward one corner and gesturing.
He looks at me hopefully, and I look back with a frown.
“It wouldn’t work. This place is big enough to house three businesses—and running it would be about as difficult. This could work after a few years, but not right now.”
Andre checks the defeat in our faces one more time, then smacks his thigh and begins walking back out the door.
“Bye bye baby,” Tony says to the vast, empty space, before I helpfully take his arm and console him away.
After a twenty minute drive to the outskirts of Hollywood, Andre brings us to a busier street, one with plenty of foot traffic. We get out of the car and follow him toward a quaint building between a high-end salon and a shoe store.
“This place was actually a restaurant before it shut down and we picked it up,” Andre explains as he searches the ring for the right key. “Some British themed, pub-type place. They actually had the building made for it.”
He pushes open the door and we step inside. Andre follows and quickly steps in front of us to carry on the tour.