I vaguely have a sense of who he’s talking about, but because I can’t get Sandi and that horrible lipstick that tasted like plastic when I kissed her out of my mind, I don’t think I can focus on anything now. Alex’s taste in women runs the gamut from wild to utterly bizarre. It’s so odd too because he doesn’t look like he’d go for anyone other than hot women, but he’s got a thing for the strange ones.
“She’s not really registering with me at the moment, but it’s fine. I’m glad she expanded your horizons regarding the fifties diner style.”
“Just open your mind, okay? The pastry chef here makes the most phenomenal desserts. My father and Kane tried to woo her to come work at CK a few months ago, but she wouldn’t even take their calls.”
Looking around at the diner and wondering why we don’t even have menus yet since there are no more than two other booths filled with customers, I doubt this place even has a pastry chef. That’s probably just Alex throwing around his chef lingo again. Nobody’s just a cook with him. Everybody’s some kind of chef. Pastry chef. Sous chef. Executive chef. The person making desserts here is probably just some schlub who knows how to slap on some frosting on a cake.
A server finally makes her way over to our table a minute later. All smiles and very pretty, she looks about seventeen, if that. When she opens her mouth and I see braces, I think I might have given her too many years with my first guess.
“Hi, welcome to Comfort Food! I’m Hannah,” she says with such enthusiasm that I question if she’s going to leap over the table and sit down with us.
“It’s great to have you here. Here are menus, and let’s get you started on some drinks.”
My cousin looks up at her like he can’t open his eyes wide enough and says, “I’ll have a Coke, Hannah.”
“Make that two,” I mumble as I let my gaze slide over the plastic coated menu.
“Got it! Two Cokes. I’ll be right back, but I wanted to mention that our sandwich of the day is a grilled cheese with tomato and herb mayonnaise. Be right back!”
I lift my eyes from the menu to watch her ass in her too-tight shorts as she walks away. Interesting place. Diner décor with a touch of Hooters.
“That grilled cheese sounds good,” Alex says, sounding a little too peppy for my taste.
“Is that girl rubbing off on you? She was only here for a minute, at most, and now you sound as up as her. Or is it the shorts and white T-shirt that’s got you all excited?” I ask, still reading the menu of more fried and greasy foods than I’ve ever seen in my life.
He doesn’t answer, but I know him well enough after all these years, so I lift my head and see him glaring across the table at me. “You know what your problem is? You’re a snob, Cade. Comes from going to that school up north.”
His insult misses its mark entirely, especially coming from him. “You’re the guy who calls everyone who owns a goddamned spatula a chef, and you work in a five star restaurant, for God’s sake. You went to school for culinary arts, and I’m a snob?”
That little bit of truth stops him cold, so he twists his face into a sneer and says, “Just give this place a chance. You never know. It could be great.”
As much as busting my best friend’s balls is something I enjoy, I don’t say anything back to him. After another quick glance at the menu, I look around for any sign of our server and those drinks she promised to bring right back. She’s nowhere to be found, but in the window of one of doors leading to the kitchen, I spy a woman staring out at our table. I only see her for a split second before she disappears.
Too bad. I was hoping to get her attention so maybe she could send over Hannah.
Chapter Two
Cade
By the time Hannah finally brings out my hamburger and fries and Alex’s turkey club sandwich with fries, I’ve caught the person in the kitchen staring out at us three times. She disappears every time she realizes I see her, and as much as I doubt anything as exciting as a mystery is occurring at Comfort Food, I can’t help but wonder why she keeps looking out at us.
Then it dawns on me. She knows Alex. She probably worked with him at the restaurant at some point, and now she’s working here. Maybe she’s embarrassed since this place is nothing compared to CK, or maybe she thinks it might be him but she isn’t sure.
So much for the latest episode of Diner Mystery Theater.
Alex points at the last bite of my hamburger left on my plate and nods. “See? I told you this would be good. Tell me you didn’t love that burger.”
As much as I hate to admit it, I loved the burger. In fact, I loved the fries too. I don’t want to give him a reason to gloat, though, so I merely shrug. “It’s a decent burger. Jeez, Alex. You sound like you’re trying to sell this place. I’m not in the market for a diner, thank you.”
He finishes his club sandwich and sits back, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to sell anything. I did hear the desserts are the best in the area, though, so we have to try them.”
“Quite the hard on for cupcakes, huh? You need to go out more, man. You’re starting to turn into some deranged version of that celebrity chef dude I watched the other night.”
“Whatever. Don’t try the desserts. Be a grumpy guy who refuses to enjoy anything,” he grumbles under his breath.
Times like this show how different the two of us are. Alex is all about the senses. He gets off on how good things taste or feel. The chef in him talks about how things are presented, like that’s a big deal.
I, on the other hand, am not as much a hedonist as he is. Oh sure, I indulge in almost anything that makes me feel good, but he takes it to places I never would.
Like desserts.
I can’t remember the last time I had a dessert. Maybe my grandmother’s birthday party last year? She had a cake, which Alex talked about like it was the goddamned Taj Mahal of food, so maybe then?
But he’s my best friend and practically my brother, so I accept how he is. Born three months after me, we basically grew up together. For the past twenty-three years, other than my time in college, we hung out every day. I’m closer to him than anyone else in the world.
“I guess I could try something. Maybe they have some kind of doughnut I’d like.”
Alex shakes his head and laughs. “You give me a hard time about stopping here because it’s a diner, but you want a doughnut?”
“Don’t bash the doughnut. It’s the breakfast of champions.”
“The person who makes the desserts is an artist. I don’t think she makes doughnuts.”
Now it’s my time to do an eye roll. “An arteest?” I say, making sure he understands how utterly ridiculous I think he sounds about all of this.
Before he can give me a hard time about not taking this whole pastry chef and their desserts seriously enough, a man stops at our table. I look up to see him smiling as he notices our empty plates.
He points at them and says, “I hope this means you enjoyed your meals.”
Quickly, Alex shoots me a nasty glance and smiles back at the man. “They were great. Best club sandwich I’ve had in a while.”
As they talk about the turkey and something about the lettuce tasting some particular way, I glance past the man and see the woman in the window again. For the first time, I smile. She doesn’t smile back, and after looking panicked that I noticed her, she disappears once more.