Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [132]
“Whenever you’re ready, Miranda.” Devon’s voice was oddly gentle.
Miranda blocked out the cameras, the techs, her own fear, and focused on Adam, standing at the front of his crew like a pirate captain defending his ship.
“When I first came to Market, I was shocked by the way the cooks here behaved. They were loud and obnoxious, hostile to outsiders. They were like a primitive undiscovered tribe, communicating in a foreign language and distrustful of change. They cursed. A lot.”
Some of the crew smiled at this. Frankie mouthed something that looked like “Too fucking right.”
Miranda went on. “I soon found that those very qualities that made them such a closed society were the qualities that allowed them to work as a seamless unit in the kitchen, with absolute trust. But that trust had to be earned. My source was someone who never managed to do that.
“Journalists are taught never to give up a source. But I believe there’s no moral imperative higher than common sense. My source was Robin Meeks.”
A gasp went up from the assembled listeners, along with a rumble of unsurprised grumbling.
Miranda panted lightly, pushing through the moment. No matter what she said, or how convinced she was that it was right, it still went against the grain to reveal Rob’s name.
“A week ago,” she said, “Rob Meeks held this very kitchen at gunpoint. He’d been fired for poor performance and carried his grudge all the way back here, gun in hand. One of the cooks was injured as a result of this troubled young man’s actions. Clearly, Meeks was an entirely unreliable source and nothing he told me should be considered true or accurate. As a journalist, I should have worked harder to verify the stories he told me about the staff at Market. I should certainly never have implied anything about the honor of Chef Adam Temple, based on his past relationships. In my heart, I knew that particular bit of gossip to be a lie. Adam Temple is a good man, who built this restaurant with his brains, his dedication to the pursuit of perfection, and his uncanny knack for hiring a crew that would follow him to hell if he asked them.”
Miranda took a shaky breath and met Adam’s eyes across the room. His arms were crossed defensively over his chest, his handsome face set in blank lines she couldn’t interpret. But he was listening.
Miranda took the plunge.
“Although I ultimately thought better of the book and intended to remove it from the publisher’s hands before it ever saw the light of day, I take full responsibility for the lies that have been spread in public about the people in this room.”
That was the bit she and Claire had argued over long into the night. Claire pointed out, quite rightly, that it opened Miranda up to civil suits. Miranda’s feeling was that she was liable anyway; she might as well own up to it.
Swallowing hard, Miranda braced herself for the hardest part.
“I wrote the book in the first place,” she explained, “because I needed the money. My brother was accepted at NYU, and the tuition was more than I could pay.”
She looked up to see Jess shaking his head, and hurried to say, “None of this was my brother’s fault, and it certainly wasn’t his idea. He was and is willing to work his way through college, applying for scholarships and student loans.” She smiled at him. “He’s a very independent young man.
“I hoped, though, that by paying for his school, I’d be able to convince him to quit his job here at Market. I wanted to get him away from a man who works here, who I thought was a dangerously bad influence on my impressionable young brother.”
Adam shifted his weight. Jess linked his fingers with Frankie defiantly.
Miranda lifted her chin and continued. “I was entirely wrong about Frankie Boyd. The night Rob Meeks brought that gun and threatened everyone here, Frankie proved himself a hero. And he proved how much he truly cares for my brother. Not