Dex (9 page)

Preston walked toward Dex’s station with his head held high in the air, completely ignoring the chopstick house a few little kids had just made. With one less-than graceful step, Preston tripped over the house, sending the vegetables flying into the air one way, the pancakes another, and landing him flat on his face right behind the crowd of people at Dex’s station.

Everyone was enthralled by Dex’s performance and didn’t notice. Everyone but Marla, whose eyes widened as the vegetables from Preston’s tray fell perfectly into Dex’s wok.  The audience applauded with delight, thinking this was part of the show.

Dex shouted, “Thanks, Mr. LeTray!” too engaged to realize it had been an accident. He continued to cook and talk, all the while dazzling his audience.

“Preston. Are you okay?” asked Marla, crouching down to the floor.

“Fantastic Marla. Flipping fantastic.” Preston wiped a few pepper seeds off his face and stood up.

“Well it worked out great,” Marla grinned. “You couldn’t have planned it better!” She pointed to Dex, who was still busy serving up plates of food to amazed guests.

Preston grimaced, brushed off his clothes and walked out.

#

“See, Dex,” said a little, freckled-face blonde, “I’m like you,” she insisted, sprinkling salt and pepper into glasses of ice water. Without an assigned seat, Dex was stuck at a table in the ballroom with a group of little kids. He watched miserably as Sarah danced with Hunter. His blaze of glory during the cocktail hour seemed to wane as quickly as it had come.

Alicia saw him and walked over. “Why are you sitting here?”

“No choice,” he sighed. “I wasn’t really invited. There’s no room anywhere else.”

“Where’s Mom?”

“She had to pick up Dad and Geema. They’re going to that that new place with every imaginable pancake.” He took a cookie from a plate on the table and popped it in his mouth. “Chocolate Berry Bomb—that’s the best one. Liza’s dads took us.”

“Right. Mom promised Geema. Half-price for seniors on Saturdays.”

“Please tell me you’re ready to go,” Dex pleaded.

“Who’s the guy in the gray suit?” Alicia said, ignoring him.  “He keeps pointing over here.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he has a crush on you. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Cute, Dexpert, cute. I’m serious,” she directed Dex’s gaze. “Him.”

“I don’t know.  Someone said he’s Sarah’s uncle, some kind of TV producer. I made him a plate before, I think.”

They sat for a little while watching people dance. One old couple, according to Alicia, made every song a waltz, while another found a reason to twirl and dip every few seconds. A short, chubby guy was moving like a professional until he dipped his tall wife so low that she nearly hit her head on the marble floor. He pulled her up as fast as he could, but she yelled something at him and marched away before he could coax her back.

Alicia was putting in a new tape when she noticed the mysterious gazer engage Sarah’s father in what appeared to be a deep conversation. She jabbed Dex’s arm. “Look at them. What do you think they’re talking about?”

“Global warming?” Dex quipped. “The price of tea in China?” He made himself chuckle. “How should I know?” He threw his hands up in the air. “I want to go.”

Alicia shook her head, “Aren’t you the least bit interested in what they’re talking about over there?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Yes, the least bit.” Dex grabbed Alicia’s hand and looked at the time. “See,” he said, pushing her watch under her nose, “It’s been hours. I’m tired.”

“Stop being a child,” she scolded, tugging free from his grasp.

“I
am
a child. Come on Leesh. We can go, can’t we?” he whined.

“Soon,” she snapped. “The party’s almost over.”

“So then can we leave?”

Alicia started to answer, but Sarah came over to them before she had the chance.

“Dex, can you please stay with me?” Sarah said her eyes glazed over with tears. “My parents will drive you home.”

Dex glanced at Alicia sheepishly.

“Sure. I can stay with you. Right, Leesh?”

“No problem.” Alicia smirked and rolled her eyes. “I’m going to get footage of guests leaving and then I’m heading home.” She slung her camera case over her shoulder. “Happy bat- mitzvah, Sarah. See you later, Dex,” she added as she walked away.

Dex turned to Sarah who looked more distraught than ever.

“What’s going on?” Dex asked.

“You’re so not going to believe this,” Sarah announced. “Hunter broke up with me!”

#

Dex got out of the Rosenbaums’ car and thanked them for the ride home. He flew into the house so quickly he didn’t even feel his feet hit the pavement. He had to talk to Alicia. She was a girl, she would understand what he was supposed to feel and, more importantly, she would be able to tell him what to do.

“Leesh?” he called from the family room. He thought for sure she’d be watching General Hospital. It seemed like she had a way to set it on the DVR for ‘all-the-time.’

“Hello?” Nothing.

He went upstairs to change and noticed Alicia’s light on through the crack at the bottom of her door.

“Leesh?” Dex called, opening her door very slowly. His friend Dean had once told him about a time he accidentally walked in on his sister making out with her boyfriend, and she got so angry at him she threw his math homework in the litter box. Even though Dex’s family didn’t have a cat, he sucked at algebra and he didn’t want to take any chances.

“Leesh,” he said again as a warning signal, but there wasn’t a sound. He opened the door and was relieved to find her alone, but why was she crying into her pillow.

“What’s wrong?” He waited for some kind of response, but there was none. “Is this about that Jazz guy?”

“No! It has nothing to do with him,” she retorted, handing Dex a type-written letter. “It’s this.”

“This is a final notice to inform you that…,” Dex’s voice trailed off and he read the rest of the letter silently.

Alicia broke in. “Bottom line, Dex. We’re losing the restaurant.”

“How is that possible?” he argued. “Geema said we’re just closed for renovations.”

“Obviously she’s been lying. Dad just lost his business, Mom does a commercial like every three months, and we’re in school full time. I’m sure she didn’t want us to worry.”

“You’re probably right,” Dex mused.

“What now?”

“How’d you get this letter anyway?”

“I had just gotten home from the bat-mitzvah when the doorbell rang. A couple on Brook Hollow stopped by and dropped it off.” Brook Hollow was the street behind theirs. Dex nodded.

“Somehow,” Alicia continued, “it was delivered to them.”

“New mailman,” Dex said. “He likes my asparagus tarts, but he makes a lot of mistakes.”

“Well, that couple made one too. They opened the letter before they saw it wasn’t addressed to them.” Alicia wiped her smeared make-up with the back of her hand. “Dex, what are we going to do?”

“Well, it says we have ‘til New Year’s.” Dex scanned the page.

“It could say we have until pigs fly.”

“Leesh, at least
try
to be optimistic.”

“Okay. Fine.” Alicia got up and looked out the window. “So what’s up with Sarah? Must have been important if she had her parents take you home.”

“Hunter broke up with her.”

“At her bat-mitzvah. Wow! What an ass.”

“I know, but she said she likes this other guy.”

“You know him?”

“She wouldn’t tell me who it is.”

“It’s probably you.”

“I don’t think so.” Dex picked up the letter from the bed to read it again.

“Okay. So, what do you think we should do?”

“I say, we get the restaurant back.”

“You’re dreaming.” Alicia snatched the paper from Dex and tucked it away in her desk drawer.

“No, I’m working. And failure is not an option.”

“That’s a cute thought, but even all the money from your sandwich stand for the next twenty years wouldn’t be enough. Besides, isn’t that money supposed to pay for your
Gymbuff
?”

Dex inhaled deeply, and then let out a sigh.

“Plans change.”

CHAPTER thirteen

Dex shifted restlessly in his seat.  The earbuds of his iPod landed on the glass conference table in front of him. He glanced around nervously. He was listening to Jordy’s favorite song, ‘Gangnam Style,’ by PSY. That wasn’t so terrible. But had anyone else heard the rocket take off in the pit of his stomach? Too bad, it wasn’t his fault. It was already after five and he hadn’t eaten anything since the tuna and ginger slaw wrap he made for lunch. Had he known he would be waiting forever to meet this Ezra guy, he never would have let Liza have his extra oatmeal cookie.

He thought about wandering through the halls in search of a vending machine, but the Eatz Network building wasn’t the kind of place to find a Snickers bar. He wasn’t even sure why they’d bothered to wade through afternoon traffic across town to get here. All his parents told him when they picked him up from school was that Ezra Langer, Sarah’s uncle, and the president of the network, wanted to meet with them at his office to ‘talk.’ It seemed cool at first, but so far Ezra was, as his receptionist put it, ‘regretfully detained in a meeting’ and a few of his associates were doing all the talking. And only with his parents.

Since they’d arrived and been seated, Marla and Vince had been engaged in conversation with a round-bellied guy in a cream suit and a stocky woman in a chocolate-brown dress. Together they reminded Dex of a brownie a la mode which only made him feel hungrier. Vince was now explaining to the Brownie Woman how smart it would be for Eatz to team up with Entrée, the gourmet food market, to create and sell all kinds of products.

“Marketing and merchandising, that’s where all the big money possibilities are,” Vince asserted, stroking his newly grown goatee. “Just takes money to make money.”

The Ice Cream Guy nodded and got up to take a phone call. Then two other people came into the room, a younger guy in jeans and Nikes, and a tall guy in a navy blue suit who looked almost as bored as Dex. They sat down and the conversation continued as if there had been no interruption.

Dex picked up his book bag and took out his homework. Maybe the distraction would help his hunger subside. But after finishing two social studies worksheets about the Potato Famine in Ireland, he was even more famished. It felt like at least an hour since they had arrived and Dex could swear the clock wasn’t moving.  He could feel his stomach twisting.

Dex couldn’t wait. Since Marla had been dieting he knew there was no chance for M&Ms, but she would at least have one of those chocolate covered, cardboard bars she insisted were brimming with nutrition somewhere in her enormous pocketbook.

He gave his mother a nudge with his knee that made her jump.

“Ow,” Marla exclaimed, furrowing her brow at him.

Dex didn’t care. “I’m starving,” he whined.

Marla’s face softened as she dug into her bag, searching through every nook and cranny. At first she frowned like he was out of luck, but one more plunge and she was smiling.

“Here you go, Honey,” she beamed as she proudly handed Dex a breath mint. Before he had the chance to protest, her back was in his face and she was agreeing with something Vince had just said about kids and food being a popular combination in today’s demanding market.

Dex wasn’t interested. He was a kid demanding food and getting nowhere. Brownie Woman got up to refill her coffee cup, and Dex’s stomach rumbled louder than a lawnmower firing up for a war on weeds. He got up from his chair and started to walk toward the door. Who would miss him? Judging from the past hour, he didn’t even need to be there. Rather than bother his parents he offered them one quick wave he was sure they didn’t notice and grabbed the sleek metal door handle.  Ezra Langer nearly toppled over Dex as the two met face to face more closely than either had intended.

“Well, thank you young man, much obliged,” said Ezra, assuming Dex had politely opened the door for him.

Dex just stood there like he had rocks in his socks. If he was supposed to make any kind of good first impression on this man, it was definitely time to go home.

“Why don’t you come join us,” Ezra said as he took his powerful seat at the head of the oblong table.

Dex heard him, but he still wasn’t moving. Not only was he hungry, now he was nervous too. This was all too weird. Waiting was one thing, but everyone in the room stopped talking as soon as Ezra walked in. Why was this guy so important? And what could he possibly want from Dex?

“Dex, come sit down.” Marla tapped the empty seat next to her.

Dex stared at his mother blankly, but found himself following her voice to the chair.

“First, I’d like to apologize for being late,” Ezra said, acknowledging the clock on the wall. “Budget meetings can be relentless.”

There were a few groans of agreement and then silence.

“I imagine you’re wondering why I called you in.” Ezra was now addressing Dex and his parents. “I’m a firm believer in the saying, ‘If you snooze, you lose,’ and frankly, after what I saw at my niece Sarah’s bat-mitzvah, we simply cannot afford to lose Dex.”

“Why? What did I do?!” Dex blurted out.

“One of the most difficult things on this great planet; you kept a crowd of people happily eating off their plates and out of your hands.” Ezra turned to Marla and Vince. “That takes talent. The kind of talent that makes money.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Vince said.

“You want Dex to help one of your chefs, or something like that?” Marla asked.

“No, Dex isn’t a side dish; he’s an entrée,” Ezra said, his arms outstretched. “You don’t take caviar and treat it like tuna fish. You have to honor it.”

Ezra stood up and walked over to the window. “I’ve discussed this decision with some of my associates, but for others this will be news as well.” He took a moment at the tallest window in the conference room to watch a flock of birds pass.

Vince and Marla gave each other a quizzical shrug.

Ezra went over and put his hands on Dex’s shoulders. “So Dex, how would you like to have your own cooking show?”

“What??? Me??? On TV??? Cooking?!?!?” Dex shrieked.

Brownie Woman’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, which let Dex know she was included in those who hadn’t been told. The Ice Cream Guy was pretty shocked too, but the one in the jeans just swigged his Red Bull like he had known all along.

“Wow!” Marla was nearly speechless.

“Is this for real?” Vince asked, worried they were being set up. He and Marla had seen their share of reality TV, making caution his first instinct. That and a peek around the room for a hidden camera.

“Yes, it most certainly is,” Ezra assured. “You, Dex, will be the youngest Eatz Network chef in history.”

“This can’t possibly be,” Marla protested. “You don’t even know our son.”

“I know what I saw,” Ezra defended. “Genius. I don’t pass on genius.”

Ezra turned his attention back to Dex.

“Like all our stars, you’ll have a live show, cooking in front of an audience. But, please understand, this idea of mine is coming out of nowhere. The budget’s already been set, so now I’m taking on a huge risk. I also have to consider advertising and marketing costs. Basically, I can’t offer you much of a salary ‘til we see where this goes. But, if I’m right, and luckily I usually am, I think you’ll have more than a comfortable future to look forward to.”

Ezra turned back to Vince and Marla. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure I can think right now,” Marla admitted. “What about school? Dex is only twelve.”

“Almost thirteen,” Dex argued.

“Absolutely,” Vince said, ignoring Dex. “We can’t neglect Dex’s education.”

“Understood,” Ezra continued. “We’ll only need him a couple of days a week after school. He’ll rehearse one day and we’ll tape live another.”

Suddenly the conference room door flew open and in walked Preston LeTray, who sauntered in as though he owned the place. He seemed oblivious to the meeting going on and Dex noticed that he ignored everyone except for a slight nod to Marla. Preston stood over Ezra like a bully about to steal his lunch money and grimaced, annoyed that he couldn’t have the room to himself.

Ezra scowled back as he excused himself to deal with his star chef. Their conversation didn’t last very long, but Ezra seemed exhausted even after Preston left. He walked back to Dex and his parents and a big smile grew on his face. Dex appreciated the effort even though he could tell it was forced.

“So, what do you think?” Ezra asked again.

#

Preston LeTray huffed and puffed his way back to his office holding a new package from Buford when something stopped him in his tracks. He was extremely aware of scents, especially since meeting with Buford, and this one brought to mind a handful of vanilla beans. He sniffed a few more times enjoying the way it made him feel. Then he remembered. He was smelling Marla. He followed his nose and was unsurprised when he saw her by the elevator replacing a bottle of perfume in her bag.

“Congratulations, Marla,” Preston offered, softly coming up behind her.

Marla whirled around to face him.

“I heard about your son’s offer. You must be so proud.”

“Thank you, Preston,” Marla said, then took a deep breath. “Vince and I
are
very proud of him.”

“You have every reason to be,” Preston said as he hit the down button for the lobby. “You know I’ve thought about you since the shoot. You still look beautiful, the same as you did the night I hid your engagement ring in one of Poppy’s garlic knots.”

“That was a very long time ago,” Marla answered, looking down at her wedding ring.

“Yes, it was. And for you, one big mistake ago. How is Vince, by the way?” Preston’s upper lip began to twitch.

“We’re fine, Preston. Just fine. I have to go,” Marla insisted and quickly opted for the stairs, leaving Preston at the elevator alone.

It was hard for Preston to think about that night. He’d made such big plans for his future.

#

It was early summer, 1985, right after President Reagan’s speech challenging Gorbachev to tear down the Berlin Wall. Preston had been listening to the radio on his way back from a wine-tasting when a commercial convinced him he desperately needed a pint of Cherry Garcia, the newest Ben & Jerry’s flavor he had yet to try.

He pulled into the parking lot at Pathmark, the only supermarket in his neighborhood that stayed open late, and practically leaped out of the car. But when he got to the freezer case, they were all out of stock. Some nerve. He admonished the manager and stomped out of the store, letting his heels hit the floor with a continuous thud.

Preston got into his aging Datsun and slammed the rusting door shut. He clenched the steering wheel tightly. He wasn’t just hungry, he was angry. What would make him feel better and satisfy his eager palate? Not pancakes, too soft. Not sorbet, too fruity. There had to be something. And then it hit him-- a big, fat cannoli from Poppy’s Kitchen. He licked his lips and put the car in drive.

He knew it was past serving time when he arrived at the restaurant, but in a few months he would be family and the place would practically be his. The door was locked, but he could see a couple of employees cleaning up through the window. He knocked and knocked until a busboy finally opened the door.

“Sorry, we’re closed.” The kid had removed his black vest, but he was still wearing his white shirt.

“Not to me you’re not,” chided Preston. “Don’t you know who I am?” Preston’s eyes widened to monstrous proportions.