Stepbrother Bad Boy's Baby Boxed Set (18 page)

W
hen I was
in sixth grade, I'd gotten into a fight with a boy in class soon after the 9/11 attacks. With me being half-Turkish, the sentiment against almost anyone of Middle Eastern descent at that time was suspicious, but this boy was worse than most. I forget what the exact trigger for the fight was, but we ended up in a full on brawl, I was so pissed off about something he had said or done. I'd like to say I kicked his ass, but this was before I started jiu-jitsu, and he hit me in the side of the head with our math textbook. The shot had left me stunned, the entire left side of my face in a numb fire, the whole world seemingly muffled and half heard.

T
hat was
what it felt like watching Gina walk across the back lawn of the manor. Part of me saw Yuki come running out of the back of the manor, stopping short and her hand coming up to cover her mouth when she saw that Gina was already talking. Meanwhile, Julian stood there looking like how I felt, like the whole world had just detonated and we were flying through space, waiting for the end to consume us.

"
O
h
, you didn't know?" Gina said, looking just at Julian. "Well, I guess you should have been a bit more careful before dumping that huge load inside me at the wedding reception. I found out about a month ago, and I'm due right in the middle of January or so."

"
J
ulian
?" I asked, looking at him. "Is Gina.... what is she saying?"

O
ne look
in his eyes and I knew. I didn't need an answer. She was telling the truth, at least in terms of them having sex at the wedding reception. The world grew blurry, and I felt my heart break into a thousand pieces. "Julian.... how could you?"

"
K
rystal
, I'm sorry. I was coming to tell you but....." he said, but his response was cut short by my slap across his face. Gina watched this in total silence, realization dawning on her face, followed by an almost wicked smile as I turned to go inside the manor. I had to get the fuck out of there.

"
W
ell
, it looks like the princess has finally had to live in the same world as the rest of us," Gina said to my back as I stormed away. Julian stood there on the lawn, his cheek starting to turn red as I went up the stairs, not even going into his room but instead into what had been mine, flinging myself on the bed and screaming my tears until I couldn't make a sound any longer.

I
don't know
how long I stayed that way, but the next thing I heard was a knock at the door. "Julian, I swear to fucking Christ if that is you I am going to kill you!" I hoarsely screamed. "Get the fuck out you fucking bastard!"

"
I
t's not Julian
," Yuki said quietly, opening the door. "He left Krystal."

"
G
ood
. Fucking bastard! What the fuck?!?! First my aunt, now me? Is he trying to fuck my entire family?"

"
T
hat was his original plan
, yes," Yuki said, sitting down on the chair next to my bed. She spent the next ten minutes telling me about the conversation she had with Julian in her office, including his original plan to have sex with as many women in my family as possible just to get at his father. "But he abandoned his plan."

"
W
hat
? He seems to have moved on with it quite well, I'd say. Or did you miss the part where it's become common knowledge that he's fucked me three ways from Sunday?" I said, fresh tears streaming down my face. My sobs intensified, and I heard Yuki get up to pat my back. Another presence was in the room, and I turned my head to see Mom standing there. "Oh Mama...."

"
S
hhhh
, it's all right," Mom said, coming over and hugging me. "I already sent Gina home, telling her she's not welcome here right now. Oh baby, if I'd known....."

"
I
suspect
that Miss Aksoy wanted to surprise you with the knowledge," Yuki said quietly. "In some of the things she said after she became aware of Krystal and Julian's relationship, she sounded vindictive."

"
G
ina's
never been the nicest of people, but she's never been like this before," Mom said. "Yuki, what's this about you knowing about Julian's actions?"

Y
uki explained it again
, starting from when Julian knocked on the door of her office. She ended it with Gina dropping her bombshell on the back lawn. "I know this is hard to believe, Sandra, but I believe him. Julian may have started with evil intentions, but he did truly fall in love with Krystal."

"
A
nd how would you know
?" Mom replied. "Yuki, you are talking about one of the most deceitful, lying men I've ever known."

"
I
've known him longer
, and spent more time with him than you have, no offense Sandra. I've seen him scheme, scam, and screw up time after time, each time walking away without a care in the world other than causing more trouble. And I also saw his face in my office today, and again on the back lawn. I know it seems strange, I know I sound crazy, but it is true. Julian fell in love with Krystal, and didn't mean to hurt her."

"
T
hen why didn't
he tell me?" I wailed, fresh tears coursing down my cheeks. "Why?"

M
om went
to hug me again, while Yuki stood quietly in the middle of the room. When my sobs had calmed down again, she looked at me with tenderness and affection. "This may cost me my job at the manor Krystal, but I must say it. If you were in Julian's shoes, what would you have done? How many of your former lovers have you told him about?"

"
Y
uki
, get out," Mom said. "I'll speak with my husband when he comes home, but consider yourself on two weeks notice."

Y
uki nodded
, a tear trickling down her cheek. "As you wish, Mrs. Castelbon. I shall be in my quarters if Mr. Castelbon wishes to contact me."

Y
uki left
, leaving just me and Mom. I cried some more, wiping at my cheeks, until I was hollowed out, my eyes burning and my face puffy. "Mama...."

"
S
hhh
, it's okay baby," Mom said, holding me close again. "You relax, or at least try to. I'll talk with John, we'll take care of all this. We'll get through this somehow."

I
stayed there
, lying on my bed with my head in my mother's lap, until the sun went down, and the pain in my stomach was replaced by a deeper pain in the black space that was my heart.

I
knew
I shouldn't have been on the line. I'd just gotten back to Chicago the night before, hadn't slept in two days, and had barely eaten as well. I was bleary eyed, running on fumes, and my mind was not in the right place it needed to be to keep up with the pace and the pressure of the line at Alinea. I should have called off, regardless of whether Horst and Shannon would have been slightly upset or not.

I
nstead
, there I was, in my whites, trying to work the meat station. Prep had gone okay, after all slicing six ounce steaks and tying strings around fillets is stuff even a child can do. Even the start of service wasn't too bad. While it was a Friday night, we were in a rare period where there wasn't much going on in Chicago. The Cubs and White Sox were on road trips, basketball hadn't started, and the Bears were still in the preseason. Most of the universities were still on summer vacation, and even the business cycle was down. Everyone was resting up before the push into fall.

A
lso working
in my favor was the Alinea menu cycle. Shannon liked to change menus on the seasons, and we were still a few weeks out from the change from the summer menu to the fall menu. As such, most of our regulars had already eaten what we had to offer, and so the start of service was slow.

A
round seven o'clock though
, things got busy, and I ran into trouble. Tickets started to pour in, and I was falling behind. It was the little things that were getting me in trouble, and I knew it. I wasn't coordinating my tickets so that if a table ordered a steak and two lamb chops, all of them came off at the same time so they'd hit the customer's table at the perfect temperature. I was leaving one side down a bit too long, turning caramelization into scorching. By eight, I already had four plates come back to me from Shannon for redoing. She was getting on my ass, nothing I didn't deserve, but I couldn't take it anymore.

T
he straw
that broke the camel's back was double thick pork chops. You have to understand, cooking pork chops is different from cooking steak or lamb. Pork has to be cooked through, or else the risk of food poisoning is a lot higher. You can't have rare pork chops, in fact in the United States there are very strict laws on it. However, because the chops are double thick, you can't have your fire too hot, or else you end up with a chop that is cooked in the middle and a hockey puck on the outside, or perfect on the outside and dangerously raw in the middle.

I
t was
this second sin that I was guilty of. I'd put the pork chops on the section of the grill reserved for beef and lamb, not even thinking about it. Going by instinct, I flipped it to a beautiful golden brown crust, and then finished off the other side. Instead of checking the interior temperature, I plated the chops and sent them off with the rest of the order, already forgetting about it to focus on the next ticket.

S
hannon came
by herself a minute later. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked me, quietly seething. "Sending me underdone chops? Are you trying to get us shut down by the health department, or are you really that fucking stupid?"

B
efore you think
that Shannon was out of place for cursing and yelling the way she was, remember where I worked. Alinea is a fine dining restaurant, and high class chefs have always been tin pot dictators. While Gordon Ramsay might garner ratings and shock value with his rants on his shows, the fact is, he's nowhere near the worst. I've seen hardened chefs reduced to tears by some of the masters, and in fact had been reduced to tears myself. The most frustrating of all was when I did two weeks of summer internship in college at a camp run by Marco Pierre White. He's Ramsay's mentor, and in fact made Ramsay cry when he was a young chef. The thing about Marco is that he doesn't yell at you, he's grown beyond that. He just keeps up the pressure, and won't accept less than perfection. He's unrelenting, uncompromising, and has a way of looking at you that leaves you shattered on the inside. The thing was, after the cook, he'd be your biggest supporter, and show you how to gain strength from the shattering.

S
hannon though wasn't trying
to get me to become stronger. She was pissed off, I was pissed off, and I was not in the place to get cursed at. "Fuck off Shannon, I'm sorry about the chops. I'll get another one ready for you."

I
saw
the change in Shannon's face as soon as the first sentence left my lips. She was the executive chef of a Michelin starred restaurant, one of the few women to do so. She was brought up in the old school, where the executive chef was never, and I mean
never
referred to by their first name while at work. As for telling her to fuck off? You can imagine how I'd crossed the line with that one. "No, you won't," she said, reaching over and snapping down the lever that controlled the gas to my grill. The flames went out, and the whole kitchen went momentarily silent. "You think your problems matter? No. Get out. You're fired."

I
had
a set of tongs in my hand, and I wanted to grab Shannon by her nose with the hot grease covered metal and twist. I wanted to scream at her I didn't need her job or her patronage to become a great chef. I wanted to cry. I wanted to run away. What I did, however, was set my tongs down, take my apron off, and set it in her hands. While I made my way towards the tiny changing area where our bags were kept, I worked at the buttons on my top, to the point that by the time I reached my locker, I was standing in just my pants and my white undershirt. I opened my locker and pulled on the light jacket I'd worn for covering up, and grabbed my bag. There was nothing else inside.

T
urning around
, I saw Horst looking at me, his face a blend of compassion and disappointment. "I'm sorry," he said, holding his hand out. "Chef wants me to get your top."

I
handed it over silently
, my eyes brimming with tightly held back tears. "I'm sorry too Horst."

"
I
shouldn't have put
you on the meat station after seeing the way you were walking in. Do you want to talk about it?"

I
shook my head
, the first tear falling down my cheek. "What is there to talk about? Just, thank you. You were good to work with, and I'm sorry I let you down."

"
Y
ou didn't
. You didn't know, but your performance tonight was not the only reason Shannon fired you."

"
O
h
?" I asked hollowly. Like it really mattered.

"
S
ince you came back
to Chicago, and she saw you and your brother....Julian is it? Either way, since she saw that, she's become more critical of you. You were on an invisible tightrope, and you didn't know it."

I
nodded
, and looked up at him. "I guess it doesn't matter anyway. Now not only am I out of a job, but I lost him too." I looked up at the ceiling, and blinked, promising myself I wasn't going to cry in front of Horst. "And he isn't my brother."

T
he ride home
on the bus felt longer than normal. Coming into the apartment, there were so many things that reminded me of Julian. There, on the sofa, was a t-shirt of his that I'd been wearing to bed the few weeks I'd acknowledged to myself that I was in love with him. In the kitchen I saw the five pound tub of protein powder he'd bought, sitting bright red on the counter like a shining reminder of him.

I
went
into my bedroom and could see the shape of his head still on the pillow he'd used, and the noticeable fact that the last time the bed had been slept in, two people were using it. I looked at the rumpled sheets for a minute, and couldn't stomach the idea of sleeping there that night. Instead, I headed for the third bedroom of my place, the smallest room that I'd sworn over and over again I was going to convert into a home office or study, and never got around to doing. The original bed was still there, the mattress covered by a fitted sheet but nothing else. The empty white space was a good metaphor for how I felt, empty and bare. I collapsed onto the mattress, and let the tears I'd been holding back since Horst said he was sorry come out. They were bitter, and burned my cheeks as they soaked into the sheet beneath me.