Standing By: A Knight's Tale #2 (4 page)

“You’re being too reasonable and serious. Anything wrong?”

“It’s the time; you woke me at five in the freaking morning. Not cool man. Later today, I’ll crack a thousand jokes just in your honor. If it makes you feel any better, I did laugh earlier.”

“At my expense.”

“You’re expendable,” I grin. He punches me on the arm and turns around walking towards the exit. “Jake.” I call after him. “I’m happy for you; however, don’t start trying to fix my life because you think I should be with someone. I’m not like that.”

“Your loss.” He says and leaves the room.

My loss? I dismiss him trying to compose myself since my face automatically hardened when he said that and furrowed his eyebrows. He might as well say, “
You poor loser.
” I workout through the machines, making sure I keep my mind out of my twin’s pity stare. One man’s happiness can be another’s hell. I brush it off, head to the showers, get dressed and check my phone.

JAK:
Meet you at the café for breakfast.

I make my way to the terrace that faces the Hudson River, at this time in the morning the sun decks are empty and everyone in the café is ordering either coffee or smoothies to go. I order an orange juice, fruit salad and a bran muffin. Liam does the same while Jake orders an omelet and some coffee.

“So when is the big day?” Liam asks pulling the calendar on his phone.

“In three weeks,” Jake responds as he takes a bite of his eggs. “Stop staring at my food, Mitchel. Yes, they aren’t as great as the ones you make, now can we continue our conversation.”

I refrain from telling him that they look greasy. That’s us. He points at security flaws, Liam gives you a run down on how to improve a business through marketing and advertisement and I stare at food trying not to point out how bad it looks and how I can cook something better.

“Bachelor party?” I ask.

“Nope.” Jake answers.

“Then a guy’s weekend, bro, after you marry it’s not going to be the same.” I try to say this casually. I kind of miss our alone time, don’t get me wrong, I love Emma. However, things aren’t the same. “Hell we don’t hangout like we used to since you moved in with Em.”

“We can do it, just not this weekend. I’m coming back from a mission on Friday and over the weekend we’re going to be with Max, Chloe’s son.”

Chloe, Emma’s late sister. The one who worked as a prostitute right after she moved to New York and loved to pursue hobbies that involved crack, pot, cocaine and other recreational drugs. As if he needed to remind me who Max is. He is the kid who I waited to learn how old he was, praying he wasn’t ten and would have to do a paternity test to confirm he wasn’t mine. Not that my brothers needed to know that information, of course, they’d ask something along the lines of: “
Why would you care?
” To what I’d have to say, “
Well, because she and I dated back when I was nineteen.
”

“We’ll organize something,” I rise up from my seat. “Maybe Vegas the weekend before your wedding. I’ve got to go; today I finalize the purchase of
Willows
.” Then before heading out to avoid anything Chloe, I turn to look at Jake. “Stay safe, asshole.”

“Love you too.” He salutes me with his hand.

“You know I love you and congrats. I’ll go and check on Em later today.”

“She’s leaving for London too. You’ll see us Sunday.”

I wave at them and head out, sending out a prayer for my brother’s safety.

Mitch

“M
r. Knight,” My
assistant knocks before entering my office. John is the son of one of my vice-presidents. He studied business at NYU and while he decides what to do with the rest of his life, he’s working as my assistant, learning the ropes of the investment world and of course, the restaurant world too. “Here’s the copy of the contract you’re about to sign. The accounting department is ready to transfer the money when you indicate it and I moved your four o’clock to three as you requested. Anything else?”

“No, John, are you still on for tomorrow’s inventory day at
Frida & Diego
?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Perfect, after that you can stay around and shadow my manager. I want you to learn how to close the administrative part. I’m heading out to meet Mr. Welsh, call if you need me.”

I set out to
Willows
after I had taken care of all the pending issues at the office. I made sure everything was covered, up until three when I had a group of students from Columbia University scheduled to present their
innovative
computer application. A billing system that didn’t need a major infrastructure to function, which could, in turn be a sizable savings for the companies who use it. They need a silent partner and I’m always open for new ventures.

“Knight,” I press my Bluetooth as the buzz in my ear indicated an incoming call.

“It’s Jake,” my brother says. “Emma isn’t coming with me; she and Mom are heading to San Francisco with Em’s grandparents. They decided to have the wedding there—I mean
we
.” I hear Emma’s voice on the other side. “Yes,
we
, baby. Anyway, you’re on your own for the next week or so.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” I try to sound disappointed, but the joy of not having my parents in the guest room for a week is refreshing. “Call if you need me.”

I hang up and hail a cab.

“
Willows
, in West Village, please,” I tell the driver as I board the cab that stinks of tobacco and sweat and I wonder if I should’ve driven.

“Wasn’t that restaurant called
Le Cuisine
?” The driver suddenly asks and I confirm.

The restaurant is located down in the West Village, close to my house and is what I like to think of the beginning of my own organic restaurant chain. Parker Welsh founded it fifteen years ago and it was the first restaurant I worked at when I moved from England to the United States. Back then, I decided to follow my own dream while my twin decided to play hero. My little brother wanted to go into marketing and advertisement and I liked to play with food. I had a Master’s Degree in business and culinary training. However, I wanted to start from the bottom in order to learn everything that involved the business and Parker allowed me to do so. A final walk through, a few signatures, send the wire transfer to his bank and the place where I started more than a decade ago is mine.

I hand a twenty-dollar bill to the driver, as he parks in front of the restaurant and tell him to keep the change.

“Knight,” Parker bobs his head while walking towards me. He wears a navy blue button down shirt, a pair of jeans and his dark hair is short. “You’re early, as usual.”

“You know me.” I give him a cordial hug. “How’s life in Seattle?”

“Better than the urban Amazon,” he looks towards the street where the traffic goes from left to right; the drivers yell at each other and the pedestrians push their way through their own everyday traffic. “As a friend, I’ll advise you to branch out, but then you may not buy the place. Do you want to walk through before we sign the papers; the lawyers aren’t here yet.”

We start from the main entrance, which is decorated with assorted natural color planters that hold different kinds of flowers and greenery, a rustic wooden bench for the waiting guests, the podium for the hostess and pictures of fields. The bar is beside the coat closet, then there’s restaurant area, the tables and chairs are plain white. To the left is the kitchen area, bathrooms to the right and the offices behind the kitchen. Everything looks as it did ten years ago, except for the décor, which went from trendy
two thousands
to simple and environmentally friendly.

“Edna, one of my managers quit.”

I’m not surprised and I expect several more to follow. It happens in almost every company; some don’t like change and prefer not to wait around to decide if it was for better or worse. Any industry is that way and the hospitality trade tends to have a higher rotation of personnel than others.

“We need to talk about the muffins and the desserts. I outsource that part.”

“Why?” I question. “You can make your own.”

“I could, but choose not to.” He squints while scratching his head. “
Pieces of Heaven
?”

He’s inquiring if I know the place. Of course, I know
Pieces of Heaven
. Emma complains that those things attack her hips without mercy. Mom goes twice a week and brings Muffin girl’s crap to the house. The one thing I can’t make better, is her baked goods. I know the woman, Miss Muffet, Strawberry Shortcake, Pocket Baker, Park’s little sis or whatever name comes to mind. She doesn’t like me. I boycotted her products and haven’t eaten any of them since she went full blown bitch on me.

“Hayley is the one who supplies those to the restaurant.” Parker explains not meeting my gaze. “Only her organic line. She has other stuff that’s to die for but doesn’t go with the image of this restaurant. Like her frozen margarita cupcakes—which she doesn’t sell anywhere.”

“I can use margarita cupcakes at my Mexican place.” A few ideas start to jostle inside my head. However, I don’t tell him much because we’re talking about Muffet. For all, I know she’s going to cut ties with
Willows
as soon as Parker sells. “Why doesn’t she sell those margarita things at her store, I would like to try them.”

Not sure where that came from because I honestly wouldn’t; I refuse buy her delicious crap.

“Liquor license?” He shrugs. “It’s Hayley, I’m sure if we go through her notebooks we’ll find out why. She documents everything.”

“The drill-sergeant still has notebooks?”

“She’s flexible.”

I cross my arms and arch an eyebrow. He couldn’t pay me enough to deal with her and find out how flexible she is. I kind of liked her when she was younger but now I only think of her as someone I might help if she was drowning.

“Believe me she is, she has changed enough to be able to deal with my people. However… you two have never been too cooperative. If you decide not to go with her, give me a heads up.”

“So you can convince me to give her a chance?” Now he’s fucking kidding me. “This is business, Welsh, you helped me, but—”

“Of course Hayl is hard to deal at times,”
At times? Try, always.
“But she’s good at her work, and if you don’t need her, I would appreciate you letting me know. I just want to help her land on her feet if you decide not to go with her. I think it’s hard for her to be the youngest Welsh and attempt to make a mark.”

It wasn’t easy to be a Welsh with the mess the parents had made. By working with Parker for a couple of years, I learned a few things about them. Back then his eleven or twelve year old sister jumped from one house to the other and some days stayed with Parker at the restaurant studying for whatever subject her mother wanted. As she grew older, she made her own decisions and started to work for her brother. Smart kid, from what Parker once told me. They thought she’d be going to Columbia University like her father, or Harvard, like one of her older brothers and get some crazy degree… instead she owns a pastry shop.

“I’ll see how things work between us.” I take a deep breath and then remind him about my now relationship with her. “Hayley put me in her black book—literally—you know what that means.”

“You broke a few rules while visiting her bakery, but that was back then. Now is different.”

I honestly don’t remember what I did, but she literally wrote my name down in one of those lists she diligently makes.

*

Pieces of Heaven
is a small bakery down the street from
Willows
and only two blocks from my apartment. I’ve heard great things about it and many head to the little shop on a daily basis for their fix of sugar in the form of soft, sweet, flavorful pastries. Hayley, however, doesn’t have the vision to run a successful shop, or if she does, I’m wondering what she’s waiting for to take the next step. She opens at six in the morning and closes at two in the afternoon. The girl only has seasonable employees during the winter holidays, but for the rest of the year she’s a one-woman orchestra. If she employed at least two more people, she could increase her production and her revenue within a few months.

I looked at the numbers of the restaurant and saw what we buy from her, it’s not much and I believe her shop will fail if
Willows
stops ordering from her. Then again, maybe she can sell those in her shop. Hayley is in her early twenties and that reminds me of the kids that left only a few minutes ago promising to work out the quirks I found in their application. They were hopeful that after accomplishing what I requested, I’ll invest in their company. They might have a winner, but my final decision isn’t about the product, but their work ethics. I sent them back not only to fix their product, but to see how fast and hard they work.

I decide to email John so he can free my afternoons for the next week. In order to make a decision about the future of
Pieces of Heaven
, I’m going to shadow Miss Muffet. Learn how hard she works, how well she works with others and if she has any plans for the future. It wouldn’t be worth my time if she’s one of those that believes in
This is good enough. Why take the next step?