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There was just enough emphasis on the word woman that I heard Braden groan next to me. I ignored him and beamed at the very large owner.
“I have interrupted your dinner enough,” Giuseppe said. “Please enjoy the food; it will be out shortly.”
I sat back down and sipped my wine, feeling smug. “He’s known you since you were the size of his leg, huh? His legs are about 200 each, so you’ve known him what, a week?”
I laughed at my own joke, but I was the only one. Braden’s parents smiled politely.
Maybe it was because I was already in a groove from roasting Braden and Tatiana and Atkins. The alcohol certainly contributed to it as well. But for some reason, I thought it was a good idea to keep talking about Giuseppe.
“They say never trust a skinny chef,” I said. “If the reverse is true, then I’d trust that man with my life.”
Braden reached under the table and squeezed my leg.
“Giuseppe is a good man,” Tony said diplomatically. “He came to this country with nothing. He’s the hardest working man I know, even after all his success. He could hire other chefs to work for him, but he insists on running the kitchen almost every night.”
The room swirled. I couldn’t help myself. The words slipped right out of my mouth.
“Closer to the pantry that way.”
Mrs. Williams squinted at me. “Are you drunk?”
“Of course not,” I quickly said. “I’ve only had half a glass of wine.” A distant part of my brain knew I was being defensive, but I was powerless to stop myself. “Are you drunk, Mrs. Williams?”
I sipped more of my wine defiantly. Braden leaned in close and said, “Take it easy.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped. “I was just making a joke.”
“It is not a big deal,” Tony said with a warm smile. “It was only lighthearted banter. I’m sure you meant no harm.”
“No harm at all,” I agreed. “He seems like a delightful man.”
“He really is,” Mrs. Williams said.
“I didn’t mean to sound rude,” I said. “I used to work at a department store in Queens. I was always given the shoe section, which is good because of the commission but bad because I had to deal with people who refused to accept how fat their feet were. Customers would insist they wore a size five, so I’d go in the back and bring them a size five and of course it wouldn’t come close to fitting their feet…”
“Frederick’s!” Mrs. Williams suddenly said.
“That’s right,” I said. “Big place in Richmond Hill. But if you’re hoping for an employee discount, I don’t work there anymore. I got fired a month back for…”
I trailed off as I realized why Mrs. Williams looked familiar. And based on the look on her face, she’d recognized me too.
“Ah, fuck,” I said.
“You’re her,” Mrs. Williams said, a dark expression falling over her face. “You’re the girl who insulted me at the store. You called me a bitch.”
47
Nadia
Braden whipped his head toward me. “Nadia?”
“There must be a mistake…” Tony said, gesturing at me. “Nadia is a sweet girl, and the one you described sounded so angry…”
Mrs. Williams had an entire new look on her face. One full of rage like that day last month when I’d gotten fired from the department store. The day I accepted Braden’s proposition.
“I’m…” I said, but my head was spinning. The tequila was in full control now, making it hard to focus on things around me. Everything kept going blurry no matter how hard I concentrated.
“This is the girl you bring for us to meet?” Mrs. Williams snapped. “A drunk hussy who’s personally attacked me before? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
