Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [46]
After a minute Ethan continues in an oily voice. “Well, my client feels that his work, in large measure, is responsible for Grappa’s success. Not only does he have an inspiring pedigree and an excellent reputation, he is the signature chef. He is the person whose food people come to eat. Without him, Grappa’s continued success is, I’m afraid, a very open question.”
“What! Jake, how can you let him—” Jerry quickly cuts me off.
“Mira, it’s okay. I’ll handle it,” Jerry says, his hand resting firmly on my forearm.
Ethan Bowman, the beast, has the nerve to smile at me as he reaches across the table and plucks a cream-filled donut from the plate. It’s a smirk really, filled with bravura. Having lost round one to Jerry, Ethan apparently is now taking great delight in dangling an appendage dangerously close to the lion’s cage and emerging, thus far at least, covered only in powdered sugar. Jake, at whom I’m now glaring, has poured himself a cup of coffee and is now reading the Equal package like it was a best seller.
“Ethan, as you and Mr. Shaw are undoubtedly aware, Ms. Rinaldi has been in charge of running the restaurant, managing the personnel, handling the lion’s share of contacts with outside purveyors, and overseeing the financial aspects of running a successful business. In fact, since the parties’ separation, Ms. Rinaldi has completely taken over the management of the restaurant, as well as continuing to run the kitchen during lunch five days a week, without much input or cooperation from your client. This, as you know, is a massive undertaking and one that my client has demonstrated considerable talent for. In addition to being an excellent cook, Ms. Rinaldi is also a shrewd businesswoman. One who, frankly, has some concerns about the continued good health of the restaurant should Mr. Shaw take over. There are no assurances that, absent her excellent management skills, Grappa will continue to prosper.”
I permit myself another breath, satisfied that, at least for the time being, Jerry has managed to hold his own against Bowman’s spurious assertions.
Ethan takes a bite out of the donut as he considers his next move. Wiping his mouth, and all traces of the smile, he turns to look from me to Jerry. “Of course, I’m by no means suggesting that in the past Ms. Rinaldi has made anything but a valuable contribution toward Grappa’s success. One must consider, however, that lately your client has been known to have some, ah, difficulty controlling her emotions, which has, regrettably, hampered productive communication between the parties.” Ethan pauses for effect, following the delivery of this last, fascinating tidbit, no doubt to allow his none-too-subtle dig at my anger-management sentence to fully register. “Her taking over the management of the restaurant, as you contend,” he continues, “is not the result of any failing on my client’s part. She has not assumed these responsibilities because my client has been derelict in his duties. Quite the contrary, in fact. She has bulldozed her way onto my client’s turf, making decisions, important decisions, without consulting him. Most recently, her inability to communicate resulted in a disastrous day for the restaurant, and more disastrous days like that could quickly lose the goodwill that Grappa has taken years to accumulate.”
Unable to look at Ethan, I grip the armrests of the chair while keeping my gaze riveted on a crumb that has fallen from Ethan’s pathetic maw to the table in front of him, wishing all the while that I had paid more attention in anger-management class. I loathe him. Hate him for representing Jake, for believing Jake enough to spout these lies.
I look up at Jake, who is in the process of adding a third packet of Equal to his coffee. It is clear to me that even Jake knows this isn’t true. It’s simply too much.