“Great,” he exhaled, gripping my hands in his. “Awesome. After you.” He gestured to the conference room, and I stepped inside.
The room was darkened but was still plenty bright because of a large, portable lighting set-up on metal stands. While my eyes adjusted to the dark, an attractive woman in skinnies, a cropped jacket, and an infinity scarf stepped forward into the light. Vic stood beside her.
Avery cleared his throat. “Charlie, this is Margot Rubin. I think you may have seen her around the kitchen yesterday and today.”
“Of course.” I reached out to shake her hand. “Avery told me about your work as a public television producer.”
“He did, did he?” she said, her face inscrutable.
I nodded. “I have been a long-time supporter of PBS and NPR. I hate television, as a rule, but PBS is so important, so essential as a break from today’s consumerist, low-minded entertainment culture. I loved the series on Eleanor Roosevelt last year. Did you work on that project?” I didn’t even try to rein in my fangirl moment. I hoped she had met Rick Steves …
Margot raised one half of her mouth and looked at Avery before responding. “I’m afraid not. Avery might have been misinformed. I don’t work for PBS. I’m a producer at Surge.”
My face must have betrayed my complete ignorance.
Margot filled me in. “The lifestyle network? Last Stop: Juvey? Confessions of a Cabana Boy?”
I shook my head slowly, trying in vain to remember the last time I watched a TV show that didn’t have to do with food, world history, or British people.
Vic cleared his throat. “Charlie, why don’t you sit here, and Avery, you’ll be beside her.”
I followed his direction to two chairs placed in front of an imposing camera. A man with a mullet and a Slayer T-shirt nodded at me from behind the lens.
“Hold on a second,” I said. “Why is he here? And what’s with the lights?”
Vic and Margot both appeared ready to answer, but Avery jumped in.
“We’re just looking into some marketing options for the restaurant.” He spoke quickly. “Advertising, maybe a commercial. Vic brought Margot in because she’s the expert.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Margot demurred, unconvincingly, I thought.
“So, Charlie,” Vic said from where he stood in the dark. I could see a tiny reflection of light on his clean-shaven bald top. “Tell us about when you and Avery met.”
I made a face. “I’m not sure what that has to do with—”
Avery nudged my leg with his knee. “Roll with it,” he whispered. He was clasping his hands together so tightly I could see his knuckles turning white.
I turned to Vic. “I met Avery when he was going through a very intense cologne phase.” I turned my gaze to the ceiling, searching for the name. “Obsession by Calvin Klein. Am I right, Don Juan?”
Avery laughed, his knuckles officially white. “That stuff was awesome.”
I turned back to Vic, but he pointed to the camera. “That’s great. Keep talking, but just look at the camera.”
I paused a beat but obliged and looked down the lens. “It was hideous. He must have bathed in it before class at culinary school. He smelled like repressed adolescence. Or a smarmy grandfather.”
“Who uses words like smarmy?” Avery looked at Margot for help, but she just stood, arms crossed around the many zippers on her jacket.
“You probably miss that smell,” Avery said to me. He pulled me into a side hug and held me long enough for me to notice a different kind of cologne. Expensive-smelling, and the kind that you couldn’t get at the mall. “I could bring a little Calvin K back, you know.”
I laughed, surprised to be genuinely enjoying this rush of memories. “You probably wanted to smell like anything other than a culinary student who spent insane amounts of time with spices and oils and raw meat. And that was just the first class of the day.”
Avery cocked his head to one side. “Charlie was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”
I groaned and he looked surprised, maybe hurt.
“It’s true. You had this great smile and eyes that were sometimes green, sometimes blue, depending on how tired you were and what you were wearing.” He became animated. “And she was a beast in the kitchen. She outscored everyone on every test, not just pastry. She was so intense, I was terrified of her. So,” he grinned at me, “I decided the only way to conquer my fear of her was to ask her out.”
I watched his face.
“She said yes,” he said by way of finishing his story.
I turned my body to face him. “You never told me you were intimidated by me.”
He shrugged slightly, eyes still on me. “I suppose there are a few things I’ve never mentioned.”
Vic spoke from behind the camera. “Perfect.” He motioned for the cameraman to stop filming and let a silence fall. His gaze rested on Margot, who was watching the little screen on a device the camera guy held out for her.
Finally she spoke. “She’s the one.”