Chapter Twelve Jaxson

T he heat of the kitchen has always been a welcoming feeling. To be back in my element, to feel the equipment beneath my figures. For some, a paintbrush or pencil are the tools they use to make art. For me, it’s my knives, spoons, and other utensils. Each of them has their own special purpose and each of them adds to the masterpieces I create.

It’s day two of interviews and I’m at Skyline, my baby for all intents and purposes. The restaurant has become one of the best in New York after many years of pushing myself to perfect my brand. Known for its unique cuisine and outstanding service, this place has brought more than awards. It’s the place that gave me my sense of purpose, of fulfillment.

I never quite understood why Caitlin would get so pissed about me spending all my time here in this kitchen. The idea of working too much was something she could never get behind, and honestly, with her gone, it’s made me realize just how much my work means to me. I couldn’t give it up for anyone, even if I wanted to .

“Chef, the delivery guy just arrived with your market order,” Travis, my Chef de Cuisine says coming from the back entrance to my kitchen. His sandy blond hair is pulled back into a net as he sets a small wooden crate on the stainless steel table next to me. Truffles.

“You found them.” I grin, meeting his gaze as his smile widens.

“I told you I would. Though, are you sure this is what you want to serve them?”

Only three people have ever questioned me in my own kitchen, and one of those is Travis. Taking a moment, I collect my thoughts and consider what he’s saying. It is risky. Truffle season is usually September to December and if these weren’t harvested properly, it could completely throw off the taste of my dish. But I trust my supplier.

“I’m sure. Carry on with the menu. The signature dish I will make myself.”

“Yes, Chef.” He nods, before disappearing towards the small gathering of my other employees. Vicki, my Sous Chef, and Collen, my Chef de Partie, I met when I opened my first place in Paris. Travis though, I’d known longer. The two of us met in college. I’d dropped out after tearing my ACL and losing my football scholarship. After backpacking through Europe and ending up in France, I found my purpose again while working at a local restaurant. When I ended up back in New York, Travis reached out, having just finished culinary school himself. Since then, he’s been with me every step of the way. All of us are masters in our own way. Though, if it wasn’t for Travis and Vicki sticking with me over the past few years and putting up with all my crazy bullshit, I wouldn’t be where I am now.

It’s because of them I had the drive to never give up. To keep creating, and to make something of myself. They believed in me when no one else would.

With every stroke of my knife against the wooden chopping block, I prepare the signature pasta dish I became famous for in Paris. I’ve only made it a dozen times during special occasions, but it was remarkable. Though, in the states, it could be considered a risk.

I suppose we shall find out though.

“Pomegranate?” Vicki’s voice causes me to glance over my shoulder, a single pomegranate in her hand as her other arm crosses over her chest. Her blue eyes meet mine with a mischievous gaze. “You’re really sure about this? I mean, it’s your call and I’d never usually second-guess you… but I know how important tonight is for you. I mean, you’re cooking for the guys who just interviewed you. Are you sure you don’t want to stick to what’s popular?”

A chuckle escapes me as I slide my knife under the small slivers of Truffle that I’ve managed to shave off, placing them onto a white ceramic dish. “I’m sure, but I’m starting to wonder if you guys are losing faith in me.

“Us?” she gasps, acting surprised. “Never. I just wanted to bring you a pomegranate.”

Walking towards me, she sets it on the counter before leaning against it. The sound of voices communicating through my kitchen swirling around me, putting me at ease as I continue with my work. “Did you need something else, Vicki?”

She shrugs, a smile lining the corner of her lips. “Well, I was going to run over the menu with you one more time. If you want?”

She knows very well that I want her too. But her playful tone, though she is very serious about her work, is always refreshing. “Fire away, oh faithful organizer.”

Though I’m the boss, it’s Vicki who keeps me on my toes. Even if Travis is my second in command. Without Vicki, the two of us would be lost.

“Smartass…” she remarks rolling her eyes before clearing her throat. “Per your request for a four-course meal, we’re starting with the appetizer and almost raw dish of kampachi crudo with grated Meyer lemon and a sun-dried tomato sauce vierge. From there we move on to dish number deux, slowly baked salmon with royal Osetra Caviar and a horseradish Emulsion, Travis’s pick of course. The man loves his salmon…”

“You’re not wrong about that,” I reply jokingly. “And course three?”

She pauses, crossing her arms as she stares at me. “You’re in charge of course three… Care to share it with the team?”

“Of course,” I say my smile widening as I move towards the stove, the slow slick of butter melting beautifully in the silver pan on medium heat. Poached lobster accented with my famous truffled gnocchi and topped with a luxurious natural jus au poivre. Though, this time… I will be adding something else… a secret ingredient to really heighten the flavors.

“The pomegranate… that’s what you’re using it for?”

Her voice sounds slightly unsure as I glance at her once more, taking in her slightly parted lips and narrowing brow line. “It’s going to be okay… stop worrying.”

Taking a deep breath she nods. “I know, I know. I just know how hard you have worked for this, Jaxson. I don’t want you to lose this opportunity by trying out new things now.”

“I’m not though… I’ve made it at least twice before, in Paris.” I wink at her.

“Twice?” A low groan escapes her as she pinches the bridge of her nose and nods. “Okay, at the end of the day, you’re the Head Chef. This is your place and I’ll back you no matter what.”

She has no idea how much it means to me to hear her say that. The low simmer of the lobster goes into the pan as Travis calls out that the first dish was a success and the second dish is going out. The time for me to finish preparing is too short if I don’t hurry and continue on.

“The last dish, Vicki…” I say to her, my concentration fixed on the dish in front of me.

“Champagne-poached pears with a hint of vanilla paired with freshly made vanilla bean ice cream. Naturally, since it’s the producer of World of Foods favorite dish.”

My eyes meet hers with confusion as she gives me a smirk.

“Yes, I do my homework, Jaxson. As soon as I knew what was going on, I took care finding out what would soothe his soul. You’re welcome.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

She scrunches her nose and curls her lips back in disgust. “How about you don’t. I love you Jaxson, but Amelia doesn’t share. Now, hurry up… you’re on next.”

With Vicki back to doing what she’s best at, and the lobster and gnocchi complete, I carefully plate the dish. Each ingredient has its own place as I drizzle the sauce on the plate ensuring that the intricate design is absolutely perfect, before shaving a sprinkle of fresh truffle over the gnocchi, admiring it as I wipe the rim of the plate .

“Is it ready, Chef?” the expediter asks, stepping into the kitchen. My eyes lift to meet his as I nod.

“Yes, take both dishes to our special guests.”

He nods, not bothering to speak a word as I let out a heavy breath and lean against the counter. As far as I can tell, everything has been going perfectly. Not only did the interview go well, as did the walk-through of the kitchen and a brief showcase of a dish we were preparing for tonight. But every time I look through the window of the kitchen door I see the two men smiling and talking while enjoying their food.

Never once did either person push a dish away.

By the end of the night, the conversations with both men have gone well and I’m left with nothing but a smile on my face. My heart is swelling with the idea that this time next year I could be on Netflix. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

“Great job tonight,” Travis calls out. He and Vicki are heading off to meet her partner at a local bar for a drink. “You sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “You guys go enjoy yourself.”

It isn’t even two minutes after they leave that my phone starts ringing and I glance down to see Caityln’s name flashing across the screen. A sense of dread shoots through me. I haven’t talked to her in months, and now after what went down tonight, she’s calling me?

Swiping decline, I shove my phone into my pocket as I watch Collon oversee the rest of the cleaning. I thought Caitlin and I had so much in common, we even work in the same industry. How could I have gotten it completely wrong with her? Even though we ended things, she doesn’t seem to want to take the hint when I don’t answer her calls. Instead, she continues to call me as if I’m going to answer and give her the time of day.

Unlike Madi, who is genuine and kind. A woman who cares about others before herself.

Caitlin is nothing but a waste of my time, and an inconvenience I don’t want to relive.

** *

“I’m sorry, Jaxson, the Epicurean Channel pulled out.”

My heart stills as my agent explains to me that one of the production companies pulled out. I’d thought that everything went perfectly the last two days, especially last night, but then I woke up this morning to a message from my agent to call him and I got this news.

“... and World of Foods?” I ask, trying to hold myself together as I feel my dreams slowly slipping down the drain.

“They haven’t pulled out… but they need more time to consider.”

Of course, they do.

“Okay,” I reply, letting the information sink in. “Keep me posted on everything.”

Hanging up the phone, I sink to my sofa. My head falls into my hands as I contemplate everything that I’m doing. I’d had my heart set for so long on being able to lock in a cooking show, but now… the dream seems so far away.

How is it that I was so confident—the men were delighted with everything, said the dishes were amazing—and the next minute one’s pulling out and the other one is unsure? It doesn’t even make sense. None of it makes any fucking sense.

The more I think about it, the angrier I become.

Not at anyone in particular, just more so myself. I should have listened to Vicki. I should have played it safe and went with dishes that everyone loves. But instead, I wanted to be over the top and went with things that not everyone may like. The choice I made very well throws me out of line when it comes to having what I want.

Sitting up, I glance around my apartment. It isn’t where I want to be and after the news this morning, all I want is to escape from it all. Escape from the reality that is my unfortunate situation.

To be somewhere I feel wanted and that makes me happy.

The answer to my problems is a no-brainer—I schedule a flight back to Willowcreek. The idea of spending time with friends, being back in a place where I didn’t feel the stress and constant pressure of my life, seems perfect.

The moment I land, I head straight for Mrs. Kendall’s home, designing the plans for the new kitchen at the forefront of my mind. Anything else to take my mind off the fact that my career is literally teetering on the edge. That everything I want is hanging in the balance. Will I continue to be successful without the show? Yes. But I don’t want to be just as I am. I want to take my career to the next level, and I can’t do that without the TV show.

I can’t do that without World of Foods.

Some may wonder why this means so much to me. Why pushing myself means so much to me. But they wouldn’t understand. They don’t know what it’s like to never be good enough for others, for your own family.

To constantly feel like an underachiever your entire life. Driving myself this hard, working my ass off for my career, reaching for the pinnacle of success… It’s the only way to outrun this feeling. And why I’ll also make sure that Mrs. Kendall’s home is nothing but perfection. Because Mrs. Kendall did more for me growing up than anyone will ever know.

She made me feel wanted. Loved and cared for. She believed in me when my parents didn’t, which helped me to become the man that I am today. A man willing to take huge risks for his dreams and perhaps that risk will lead me to Madi. Though without a doubt, I’ll have to prove myself to her.

And maybe the kitchen is just the way I can do that.

As soon as I arrive at Mrs. Kendall’s home I make my way inside towards the kitchen. The spare key that she had always kept under the flower pot on her front porch lets me in without issue. Though I’m sure if I’d called Knox he would have let me in, even if it was after nine at night.

Glancing around, I take note of all the boxes that have been cleared out which makes drawing these plans easier in a way. Because the cleared space gives me a better mental image of exactly what I’m working with.

The kitchen isn’t extremely large, though it’s bigger than most homes built at the time. I can still remember when Mrs. Kendall explained to all of us how her late husband had knocked down the wall to the dining room to make the kitchen bigger so that she had more room for all her baking. Her eyes lit up with so much excitement when she told us. She claimed it was one of the happiest moments of her life at that point.

Setting down my bag, I pull out my sketchbook and pencil. My eyes take in the space and the current layout so that I can mark down wherever the electrical outlets and water pipes are for the new project. The old outdated brown wooden cabinets and beige Formica countertops are on the top of my list of things that have to go.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Kendall. I’m going to give you the kitchen of your dreams,” I say out loud as if my words will reach her on the other side.

Halfway through my first rough sketch, I can already see it come alive and I’m dying to show someone. I text Knox and make a plan to meet him here in the morning to go over it.

Tossing my phone on the counter, I get back to it, gripping my pencil as I work my magic across the paper, planning where the counters are to go, the appliances, everything. There’s no doing this project half-assed.

And hopefully… Madi will be impressed too.