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“Did you ask Chef Mac if he was interested?” he went on.
“No. He wasn’t even up for consideration. Why would he?”
My father shrugged again, and I could tell that there was more to the innocent sounding question than he let on.
“Hey, Dad!” Kobe said, bounding into the kitchen like a happy pup. “When did you get in?”
He held up his wine glass. “Three sips ago.”
Kobe managed to keep my father busy with chitchat about nothing in particular while I checked in on the brisket and vegetables.
Everything seemed to be in order, the meat being tender and perfect, and the vegetables nicely roasted.
“If you could set the table, Kobe,” I said. “Dinner is ready.”
“Sure thing, bro.”
By the time I got the salad tossed and the brisket sliced, the table was set, and my father had taken a seat at the head of the table with Kobe at his side.
I was nervous and couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t the first time I’d made dinner for my father. I knew what I was doing. I’d made brisket for my buddies a few times... those nights when we wanted to have fun, relax, have a beer and a good meal.
But now... damn it. Was it my thoughts of Layla that were making my brain foggy? I looked at the bottles of French wine. A nice cold brew would have suited the meal better. Maybe a lighthearted meal with a few beers, some jokes and stories would be nice.
Yeah... my brain was foggy all right. My father with jokes and beer? Never.
I brought the meal to the table and my father looked up at me.
“Sure smells interesting.”
Interesting. That was his euphemism for odd.
“I tried something new,” I said, serving him,
“Obviously,” he said.
We settled in to eat and eventually the conversation turned to things other than the meal that I’d made.
“I heard that the competition is fierce this year,” my father said.
“Just like it is every year,” I said with a shrug. “After all, we do attract some of the most talented student chefs out there.”
My brisket was perfect. The flavors were on point and the tenderness unmatched. My father had said nothing about it so far.
“What about that girl from Texas,” he said. “I’ve been hearing a lot about her. I heard that she’s an interesting student with lots of potential. What do you know about her?”
“Not much,” I said with another disinterested shrug, but my heart wasn’t disinterested at all. It took on an aching beat, longing for something it’d never had before.
Errol looked to Kobe who seemed to be miles away. He’d been acting so strange lately, so secretive. It wasn’t just that he had gone out with his buddies and come home so late. He’d done that before. But he was now so vague about his outings, so defensive. A part of me feared what he might be up to. I knew that one of his buddies dabbled in illicit substances and couldn’t help but wonder if Kobe had allowed himself to get dragged into something he could no longer get himself out of.
“Have you heard of her?” Errol asked Kobe as he nudged him with his elbow.
“Who?” he said, coming back to earth.
“That girl from Texas. Lola.”
“Layla,” I was quick to correct... way too quick.
They both shot me a quizzical glance.
