Mistake: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance (9 page)

"You keep calling me that."

"You keep deserving to be called that. Julian, Krystal is my best friend, I've known her for years. And she is head over heels for you too. When you came to Chicago, she said you could stay with her for a few days. How long has she let you stay in that apartment?"

"A few weeks."

"A few weeks," Kimberly replied. "A few weeks to a man that she'd only known for a grand total of seventy two hours beforehand. Hell, you've practically moved in, and she hasn't complained one peep about it, other than when you gave her some grief at work. You two have spent more time together in those two weeks than she and I have, which is very rare, by the way. When we do spend time together, she almost never shuts up about you. Since you moved in, the only two topics of conversation she seems to be interested in is the damn cooking show, and you."

In my heart, I could feel a warm ball of hope blooming. Was there really a chance for me? Could I be more than just the asshole I'd always been? "You really think there's a chance for us?"

"I do. Now, I know what I should say at this point. You two are family, even if it is stepsiblings, it's wrong, yada yada yada. You know what? I don't really care about any of that. What I care about is Krystal being happy, and Julian, you're the closest any man has ever come to making her happy since Danyal Aksoy died. And yes, she's causing you to become a better man too, so that's kind of a nice side benefit. But the ball's in your court now, dude. What are you going to do?"

"
A
nd the winner is
.... Chef Shannon!"

Although the producers had me and the rest of the Alinea team off to the side, we were celebrating just as hard as Shannon was as she was congratulated by the Iron Chef. Turning, we were allowed to come back onto the stage and shake hands and embrace her too. We celebrated like we'd just won the Super Bowl, which in a lot of ways, we did. After leaving the stadium, I stopped to watch as the production crew quickly cleared away all the mess, setting up the next battle. They filmed three or four episodes a day, and had to work hard to get Kitchen Stadium spotless in between.

"Shannon?" I said, turning around. Shannon, who was shaking hands with a producer, came over.

"Great job out there, Krystal," she started, giving me another hug. "What's up?"

"Uh, I wanted to hang around a bit longer, just watch and see if I could get an autograph from Iron Chef Morimoto. You mind if I catch up with you guys at the hotel later?"

"Of course not. How about you do what you want, and we'll all catch up in the lobby at six or so. Drinks are on me, and then if you want, we can light up the town a bit."

I nodded politely. "Okay, but I may have to crash early. I'm exhausted after the past few weeks, and could look forward to a spa treatment and a long night's sleep."

"Done deal. Drinks at six, you've got a spa appointment at seven, on me. You did good Krystal."

Shannon left, and I turned back around, leaning against the wall to watch the production crew. I was just about to see if I could find a seat when there was a tap on my shoulder. "Miss Aksoy?"

I turned and was almost left speechless as Masaharu Morimoto stood in front of me. He was dressed in his competition uniform, and looked just as cool in person as he did on television. His accent was strong, but easy to understand. "Alton Brown said you were looking for me?"

"Chef Morimoto, it's truly an honor," I said, shaking his head and bowing. He returned the bow, smiling softly the whole time. "Wow, I didn't think I'd be this star struck."

"It happens," Morimoto said. "By the way, I saw your effort during the last battle. You do good work. Am I correct in that you are a newly promoted line cook at Alinea?"

"Yes Chef," I replied. "I just got a place on the line about two months ago."

"With work like that, keep going, you'll be a sous or executive chef very quickly. Now, what can I do for you?"

I quickly explained Yuki's request for him, and his smile grew the entire time.

"You must be a good friend. All right, I'll sign something. Hold on just a moment." He turned and left me standing where I was, still somewhat star struck. He came back a few minutes later with a bag in his hand and handed it to me.

I opened the bag and felt my jaw hang open. Sitting inside was another of Chef Morimoto's jackets for
Iron Chef
, complete with the Japanese flag patch on the left arm. Across the chest were a bunch of Japanese calligraphy, along with his name in what I guessed was both Japanese and English. "This is.... this is amazing."

"To the victor goes the spoils," Morimoto replied. "Just remember, if you ever come across me in the stadium, I won't be so kind." He smiled, and I could see both the good humor and the competitive streak within the man. I bowed deeply, and he returned the gesture.

Good luck, Miss Aksoy."

"Thank you, Chef. You too."

He headed out towards the stadium to do a last minute walkthrough with the production staff, and I went upstairs, looking for a seat. One of the production assistants pointed towards a small area behind the main cameras where I could sit without being in the shots for the episode, and I relaxed for the next two hours as the next battle continued.

* * *

G
etting back
to the apartment the next day, I still felt like my mind was whirling from everything Kimberly had shown me and told me. She'd let me crash on her floor that night after I spent the next four hours reading her files on my father, and I'd woken up with my legs and lower back in pain, but my heart lighter than ever. My entire soul felt like it was in a liquid state of change, and the world contained more possibilities than it had in years. I'd thanked Kim and caught a taxi back to K Station, still trying to decide what I wanted to do next.

As I stepped into the spartan interior of the apartment, I knew. I had to tell Krystal the way I felt about her, that was for sure. However, she wasn't supposed to be filming until later that day, so I didn't want to tell her before the taping. I knew the sort of emotional bombshell I had was not the sort of thing to tell someone right before a competition. Instead, I picked up my phone, and saw that the battery was dead. I'd left the stupid thing on for too long last night, and had forgotten to charge it the night before. Plugging it into the wall, I went into the bathroom that Krystal had said was mine and showered and shaved.

It felt good to get clean, and afterwards I looked into the mirror for a long time, wondering just what it was that was making me look so damn young and refreshed, considering I'd slept like hell.
You're happy, dumbass
, I finally whispered to myself when the realization struck me like a lightning bolt.
Now go make things right.

I knew exactly what I needed to do while waiting for Krystal to finish her taping. I went back into my room and changed into some fresh clothes, and looked at my phone. It had some charge, but more importantly the cord stretched enough I could do what I needed to next. Opening the phone's memory, I found the number I was looking for and called. "Yes, Castelbon Manor."

"Hello Yuki," I said, a smile on my face. "Is Jo... is my father around?"

I could hear the surprise in Yuki's voice when she answered. I hadn't referred to Johnathan Castelbon as my father vocally in years. "Mister Julian..... uhm, no he's not, but Mrs. Castelbon is here today. Would that be okay?"

"No, thank you though. I really need to talk to my father. Also, Yuki?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I.... I just wanted to apologize for being a tremendous jerk to you for so many years. I know there's a lot to make up for, but I want to turn over a new leaf. Just..... I'm sorry."

The silence on the other end stretched out for a minute, then Yuki replied. "No offense Mister Julian, but have you been drinking or taking drugs?"

"Not at all, Yuki. I'm clean and totally sober. Just sorry for being a jerk."

"Well then, apology accepted. I see Krystal has been a good influence on you. She called a week ago and spoke to her mother, told us you'd been staying in Chicago with her. Your father was worried."

"Krystal is great, Yuki. She's helped me a lot. I'd love to tell you more, but I'm going to call my father now. He has his cell I assume?"

"Most likely, Julian. He's supposed to be out doing some grocery shopping, he insisted on doing it himself for some reason."

I laughed, a sound that surprised me when it came to my father. "I'm sure he has his reasons. Thanks, Yuki.."

"Okay. Thank you, Julian. Good-bye."

The line cleared, and I smiled as I reflected on the fact that for the first time since a week after she'd been hired by my father, Yuki had called me Julian. I guess things were looking better already. Flipping through my phone's address book again, I found my father's cell phone number and dialed. It only rang twice before he picked up. "Julian, are you alright?"

How could I have been so stupid for all these years? I could hear the concern in his voice, the love and patience as I spent over a decade throwing tantrum after tantrum at him, cursing him and treating him like the lowest form of scum on the planet. And all the time, he'd been there, concerned and loving me, hoping his prodigal son would return to him some day. "No, nothing's wrong. I just.... I just called to say I'm sorry, Dad."

The next sound I heard was a sharp click, and I thought the call had been cut off before my father's voice came over the line again. "Sorry Julian, I just dropped the phone. You caught me off guard, son."

I looked out the window of my bedroom, across the river towards another high rise, and felt a smile on my face. "I'm sure. Is your phone okay?"

"A bit of a chip on the case, but who cares? Julian, are you sure everything is okay? I've been so worried about you."

"Not everything, not yet Dad. But things are getting better. Listen, I'm just going to put it on the table now. Dad, I read the files of your divorce from Mom last night. I've got a lot of questions, but they're ones that I'm not quite ready to ask you yet. I still need to get my head straight on all of it. I just wanted to tell you that while I don't quite understand, I know you were trying to do what is right. And that I've treated you horribly for a long time. I'm sorry about that."

I could hear the tears in my father's voice as he answered me. "Son, it doesn't matter. You don't need to apologize. Julian, I love you. You're my son, how could I not love you?"

"I know. I... I love you too, Dad. I've gotta go, but we'll talk soon, okay?"

"Okay son. Take care of yourself, and your sister."

"I will. And tell Sandra, well, tell her that I'd like to get to know her more too. She's raised a wonderful daughter, and well, that's pretty damn special, you know?"

"I know. Goodbye, Julian. I love you, son."

"Talk to you later, Dad. Love you too."

I hung up the phone, and lay back, trying to think about what to do for the day. I knew that Krystal wouldn't be available to call until at least seven or eight o'clock, and I wanted to be able to use a video chat anyway when we did talk. I thought some more, and what kept breaking into my mind was the comment by Kimberly that Krystal wasn't interested in my money. She was interested in me as a man, and I knew I wasn't that great of a man yet. I wanted to be, and as I thought, I realized part of what made Krystal such a great woman was the fact that she was willing to stand on her own two feet, and not depend on her trust fund like I'd done most of my life.

The biggest problem was, I didn't really have any skills. I'd dropped out of two colleges, and to be honest, I wasn't much of a student anyway. With my run-ins with the law, it wasn't like a lot of places were willing to just hire me either, even with my Castelbon name. While I was sure that my father would let me learn under him at the family business, I didn't want to just be taken under his wing, I wanted to learn to stand and fly on my own like Krystal did.

I looked down at my feet, wondering what I could do, when suddenly a twinge of cramp hit my right quad, and I unconsciously rolled to my side, curling and stretching out the muscle before it could fully harden up. It hit me, and I knew what I wanted to do. There was definitely one thing that I was good at. I let the quad relax, and picked up my phone again, this time to dial Los Angeles. "Yo Randy, it's JC. Hey man, wondering if you can give me some advice. Yeah, yeah, I know. But seriously, what would it take to become a personal trainer?"

* * *

I
got back
to my room at just after nine o'clock, following a drink with the team and a wonderful ninety minute massage and spa treatment. The masseuse, a big boned German girl name Gretl, had worked my back and shoulders until I thought the bones would break, but she released tension and muscular knots I didn't even know I had, some of which I thought might have gone back months or maybe even years. Despite Shannon saying she'd pick up the tab, I gave the girl an extra fifty dollars for great service before changing and making my way upstairs to my room. While in the elevator, I got a text message.
How'd it go? If you have some time, give me a Skype call? Julian.

Intrigued, I turned on my laptop when I got into my room, and pulled up Skype. I was surprised to see that Julian had sent me a friend request, and I clicked add. He was listed as online, so I called. He answered quickly, and I could tell from the background that he was in the living room of the apartment. "So? Did you win?" he asked, smiling.