Second Chance: Sleeping Dogs Book 1, page 9
Chapter 17
Connor - Close Calls and Beating Up Old Guys
“Mike, you old bastard,” I yell before the door is even closed behind me. “I need to work out some frustration. Got time for some training?”
“You bet, kid,” I hear him yell from somewhere. It takes a minute, but finally I see him up in his office. “Go get warmed up and I’ll be there in a minute.”
Going over to the ring in the corner, I strip down to just my shorts and grab a weighted jump rope from the wall. Sweat is pouring off me before I allow myself to stop. Grabbing a seat on a bench, I start wrapping up my hands while I wait for Mike. The least I can do is protect my hands while I hit stuff today. I may not always play guitar during shows, but I play when I’m writing new music. And now that the tour’s over, I will be doing a lot of writing.
“Alright son, you ready?” Mike is walking over to where I’m finishing wrapping up and he takes over for me. He grabs my gloves from my bag and helps me into them, fastening them for me. “So, you wanna tell me why you’re all worked up and looking to fight?” he says, while holding up my gloved hands. “You’re usually a little more cheerful when you come in to train.”
“Just girl troubles, Mike, you know how it is.” I try to sound lighthearted, but I fail miserably.
“Ha. Good one kid. I don’t have any clue about the girl troubles a musician has. Too many to choose from? Crazy ones following you around? Got a kid somewhere you’re just finding out about?” He shakes his head while laughing. “I don’t think I would be much help with those. I only ever loved one girl in my life, and I married her as soon as she would have me. And when she passed, I just put that part of my life away. Until my granddaughter came to live with me, all I had was this gym. So yeah, girl troubles are not my area of expertise.”
“It’s actually none of those issues, Mike. I just found my first girlfriend again and lost her before we really reconnected. And now I have no way to find her. I don’t know where she works or anything.” I punch my fists together. “But enough about that. Let’s get to training.”
“You got it, kid.” Mike gets up and goes to grab some pads. “And hey, if you decide you want to meet a good girl and settle down, let me know. My granddaughter keeps getting caught up with shitty guys and could stand to date a nice one for once.”
“Good one, Mike.” I chuckle a little. “She must date real assholes if I’m your idea of a good guy.” I grin and start throwing punches in the air. First Alex, and now Mike’s granddaughter. There must be a lot of assholes in this city if two nice girls like them keep getting caught up with them.
“Yeah, well, maybe my standards are a little low.” He barks out a laugh and holds up the pads. “Now get over here and let some of that frustration out. You’ll feel better once you’ve beat up an old man for a while.”
Fucking Mike. He always knows how to make me laugh. I knew it was a good idea to come to the gym today. “Alright, gramps, get ready. I won’t take it easy on you. I don’t care how old you are.”
Chapter 18
Alex - New Jobs and New Beginnings
It turns out that not many people are looking for a personal chef right now. I set up one interview for this morning, through a former client that I’ve remained friendly with. It’s for a six-month contract, round-the-clock hours, seven days a week. I would have to live onsite for the duration. It’s pretty intense, but the money is worth it. I just need to make it through this interview and convince this woman that she wants to hire me.
I pull up at the address she gave me on the phone and immediately feel out of my element. I’ve worked in nice homes before, but this one far surpasses any of them. It’s beautifully designed modern architecture, all sharp angles and enormous windows. Glad I don’t have to wash them. It looks to be three stories high, surrounded by rock gardens with minimal flowers here and there. A place this nice probably has a pool around the back.
“Hello, are you Alex Wilson?” There is a woman standing at the front door. She looks to be about my age, but she’s more put together than I am. Long, straight, black hair frames her beautifully made-up face. She’s wearing a vintage Guns n’ Roses tee with a leather pencil skirt topped off with bright yellow peep toe booties with a platform wedge heel. Can I be her when I grow up? I look down to my cuffed, distressed boyfriend jeans, loose, white, v-neck t-shirt, long grey cardigan, and low top black converse sneakers. If I didn’t have my hair styled and a little makeup on, I’d look like I just rolled out of bed. She said it was a casual meeting, right? I wasn’t just hearing things?
“Hi, yes, I’m Alex.” I have to physically shake myself to get back to the present. “Are you Denise Lathan?”
“Sure am. Come on in and let’s get started. This won’t take too long. I’ve already contacted your list of former clients and looked over your qualifications, so I just want to get to know you a little before I make my decision.” She turns and gestures for me to follow her inside. “Let’s start in the kitchen since that is where you would do most of your actual work.”
“Sounds good to me. I assume you already saw my list of kitchen requirements? Those items would be available, if you decide to offer me the position?” I mean, I can cook with pretty much anything, but I have preferences for cooking utensils and supplies. “I bring my knives with me, but the client usually provides everything else.”
“Yes, that would be no problem,” Denise tells me. “You’ll find that the kitchen is very well appointed already. The last chef we employed was also very particular about equipment, and most of it is still here. We will supply you with a company credit card for grocery purchases and you would be welcome to use that for any other equipment you might need.”
“Alright. So what should we talk about? What would you like to know about me?” Usually the client wants to discuss my requirements because it can be an enormous expense to buy all of that equipment at once. And since she said she already knew enough about me professionally, I’m a little confused what this meeting is for.
“I just need to get a feel for you and tell you some of the more sensitive aspects of the position. If we decide to go ahead, there will be some extra paperwork you would need to sign in order to protect my clients.” Oh, she’s hiring me on behalf of someone, not for herself after all. Interesting. Now I’m even more curious about this job. “So how about for now just tell me a little about yourself.”
“Um, yeah ok, sure. I grew up in a little town a few hours away from here, but when my parents died I moved here to live with my grandpa. I was just 15 when they passed in a car accident and grandpa was the only relative who could take me in. He owns a gym on the other side of town, and that’s where I spent most of my time until I graduated high school and moved out with my best friend. I decided on culinary school because I like to cook and I like to feed people, so it seemed like a perfect fit. So far it’s been great. I’ve had a lot of kitchen jobs as I was coming up in the industry, working my way up to running my own kitchen as head chef, but I was burning out on that.”
“About five years ago, I decided to transition to starting my business as a personal chef. I’ve had great clients and not so great clients, as with any other job I guess, and now I am here.” I smile to let her know that I’m done with my brief speech. “Is that kind of what you were looking for?”
“Mostly, yes. I can’t really ask personal questions, legally, but is a live in position something you could manage in relation to family and such? You wouldn’t have to leave anyone behind in order to stay here for the duration of the contract? Partners wouldn’t be allowed to move in, unfortunately. We’ve found that people who are unattached have better luck with working out the length of the contract, and we prefer not to have to find someone else in the middle of the time frame.” Ahh, so this is more what she was looking for. She wants to know if I have a spouse or significant other I would miss too much to live here.
“I just have my grandfather and my best friend, and I am more than able to live away from them. I also just broke up with my ex when I caught him cheating, so there is no boyfriend in the picture either. And there is no possibility of reconciliation, just so you know. I would be fine to live here for 6 months and since I’m just living with my best friend temporarily I could move in and start right away.” Denise seems almost relieved to hear that I don’t have a boyfriend which is a little strange I suppose but who am I to say?
“Great, that’s great. A previous chef had to leave us when her boyfriend found out who my client and their friends were. He was jealous and couldn’t handle having her around them.”
Ok, now I’m really curious. Who is this client? Probably a famous movie star. Or a reality TV star. I just hope it’s not a politician. Not that I would turn the job down if it were.
“You have officially piqued my curiosity, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you can’t tell me who this person is?” I’m impressed with myself for figuring this out. “Confidentiality and all that?”
“Yes,” she laughs. “You’re the first person who’s figured that out before I got to this next part. In order to work here, it would require you to sign an NDA. Do you know what that is?”
“I think so,” I say. I watch enough TV to know a little, at least. “Basically, it’s a contract that says I have to keep my mouth shut if I don’t want you to sue the pants off me?”
“That’s the gist of it, yes. Because of the identity of my client, and the business that they do here, you may become privy to information that might harm my client’s career or public image. The NDA says that you will not divulge information regarding anything you see and do here, as it pertains to my client’s private interests and activities.” She is serious now. She’s either had this conversation a lot or she’s a lawyer. Or both. Either way, she is a boss bitch. “The identity of the client also cannot be divulged until the NDA is signed and a background check is completed.”
“Oh,” that makes this a little more difficult. I can’t know who this is unless I agree to work here. “Is there anything you can tell me about the environment, without telling me who this is, that can help me decide? I understand the need for privacy, but I don’t want to agree without some notion of what my time here would be like.”
“Of course.” She seems pleased that I won’t just jump in with no knowledge. “My client is very famous. They keep odd hours, so most of your work would happen later in the evening, or even in the middle of the night. They have occasional parties. They do work here, so the client’s coworkers would be in and out at all hours as well. Often you would need to prepare food for them as well. If they know they will be working extra long hours, they will let you know and are happy to eat food that you have prepared in advance. Aside from the fame they are fairly laid back, as are the friends, so you wouldn’t need to worry about any drama queen type tantrums you hear about in gossip magazines. Does that help you?”
I smile widely, nodding my head while I say yes. “That eases my concerns. If you are still interested, I would be happy to come on board.”
“Perfect.” Denise claps her hands together. “I will get the paperwork for you to fill out right now, and then you can go pack. We’ll plan for you to move in this weekend. Barring any problems with the background check, you will start Monday.”
She gets up and leaves the room. I guess I work here now. I get up and start familiarizing myself with the kitchen while I wait for Denise to come back. I wonder what my room looks like. Might as well get right to the important stuff. I send a text to Becca.
Me-I got the job. I’m moving out this weekend. Can you help? I’ll supply the pizza and beer.
Becca- I can’t say no to that. At least this time the move is planned in advance lol.
Me- Bitch <3
Chapter 19
Connor - Writing and Weird Pizza
“Denise called. She hired a new chef for me, but I have some bad news. The chef doesn’t start until Monday, which means we’re on our own for food for the weekend. You guys want to order in? Or actually go to a restaurant or some shit?” I’m fucking around with one of the guitars I keep in my home studio, just trying to work out a melody that’s been stuck in my head. “I don’t feel like being out in public, so I say we send Devon out to pick up sushi.”
“Fuck that,” Ryder complains. “I am not eating fucking raw fish tonight. I want some proper food. Burgers and fries, pasta, a whole turkey dinner. Hell, I’d even eat sandwiches over sushi today. I need something filling. I’m hungover and I’m pretty sure I’m starving to death.”
“You’re always hungover, dude,” Aiden jokes from behind his drum kit before giving himself a little sting (ba dum tiss) to cap off the joke.
“You can fuck off too,” Ryder shoots back. He can’t deny it, though. Out of all of us, he is the one who still does a lot of partying. He’s all business when it comes time to write and to perform, though. As long as he keeps his antics to his personal time, the rest of us don’t interfere with it. When it becomes a problem for the band, we might have to talk to him, but for now he has it handled. I worry about him sometimes, though. The rest of us seem to have grown up in the last 20 years, but he’s stuck, and I don’t know why.
“OK, no sushi then,” I concede. “What about pizza? I’ll send Devon over to this place near my gym. It doesn’t even have a name. The sign just says ‘PIZZA’ and it’s this little hole in the wall place. I finally tried it last time we were home, and it’s the best pizza I’ve ever had.”
“Sold!” yells Ryder. “Get me one with all the meat.” He thinks for a second, then adds, “And another one with ham and pineapple. For dessert.” Gross. He has such strange tastes. I don’t care what anyone says, pineapple does not belong on pizza.
The other guys chime in with what they want too. I call in the order, and Devon is on his way out the door. He grumbles a little about being an errand boy, but we enjoy having him around so we find things for him to do even when we don’t need security. He’s really our friend and could have been in the band if he’d had even a little musical talent. But he didn’t, so we made him security.
* * *
“Pizza!” Devon pokes his head into the studio, letting us know he’s back with food.
I don’t allow food in the studio, so we all get up and go to the kitchen to eat. Devon has already opened up all the boxes and taken plates out of the cupboard. Everyone takes a plate and then we all start grabbing slices.
“What. The fuck. Is this?” Travis is looking into one box with disgust on his face. “Is that… broccoli? And fucking cauliflower? What the fuck is this pizza?”
Devon laughs. “Oh yeah, that’s called the Lexi Girl. It’s apparently an ‘all the vegetables’ pizza. If you look closer, it also has cabbage and green beans on it. It’s pretty messed up, right?”
“Uh yeah, you could say that,” Johnny says, grabbing a piece of said messed up pizza, anyway. “But I’m not afraid, I’ll try anything once.”
“Why would you get that pizza, anyway? Pretty sure that wasn’t in our original order.” I decide I’ll try it too. Can’t let Johnny take all the risk.
“Keep that shit away from me,” Ryder says around a mouthful of his meat pizza. “I’m allergic to vegetables when I’m hungover. They’re just not greasy enough.” He laughs with his mouth still full of food. See? Still hasn’t grown up.
Devon grabs himself a slice of the Lexi Girl pizza in addition to the variety of other pieces he has stacked up on his plate. Dude is enormous and eats like it. He comes over and sits at the table with the rest of us. He immediately bites into the vegetable pizza.
“Shit, that is weird. But it’s good.” He says and takes another bite. When he’s done that bite, he drops a bomb. “That Alex girl from the show the other night, the one who beat her ex with an umbrella? She told me to get it. She said it’s her favourite. Apparently it’s named after her and everything.” He takes another huge bite, completely oblivious to the fact that the rest of us are staring at him. He finally notices our eyes glued to him.
“What? What did I say?”
Chapter 20
Alex - Bitches and Beer
“Well, I guess that’s it for packing then.” I look around the room I’ve been living in for the last week. “I didn’t realize that I hadn’t unpacked anything other than clothes and toiletries. I probably could have moved into the other place right away and gotten out of your hair sooner.”
I don’t think Becca could roll her eyes any harder if she tried. “Oh yeah, it’s been totally rough having a professional chef cooking for me. I can’t wait for you to leave me to my disgusting frozen pizzas and old Chinese takeout. Now that’s food.”
“You know sarcasm is the lowest form of humour, right? So not only are you being kind of a bitch right now, you are also not funny.” I deadpan.
“Ha! I know me being a bitch is one of the main reasons you love me so much. And it doesn’t matter if you think I’m funny. I think I’m funny and I laugh at my own jokes so…” she sticks her tongue out at me.
I have to laugh at that. She does laugh at her own jokes, a lot. Sometimes I laugh more at her laughing than I do at the joke itself. “You’re right, you’re not a bitch, Becca. You are selectively bitchy, and you’ve only used it for my benefit when I’m around. It’s kind of like a superpower that you use for the good of the people you care about.”
“I knew you loved me.” She throws her arms around me in a hug. “Now bring on the pizza and beer. You promised to feed me for my help with packing. Not my fault you packed already.”
“Nuh uh, I said pizza and beer to help me move. That has yet to happen. But…” I add slowly, “Since I have zero interest in cooking tonight, I will grab pizza for us. You go grab the beer since it’s in the other direction and then we’ll meet back here to feast. Deal?”
