If I Told You

Chapter One~ Brooklyn

Chapter 1 Brooklyn

Sitting at my favorite table, I wait for Flynn to come out front and join me. Melissa, the hostess, lingers between the kitchen and the front door, keeping an eye out for customers. After checking that it's all clear, she plops down in the seat beside me.

"Hey, girl," she says, grabbing a breadstick from the basket. "Have you seen Flynn yet?"

"Nope. What's up?"

"Don't know," she says, eyeing the door to the kitchen. "He's worked up about something."

"I figured. He texted me and said to get my ass down here. So here I am."

"Hmm. I gotta know. It's killing me."

Laughing softly, I bite into a breadstick and shrug, just as Flynn bursts through the kitchen doors. He walks with lightening speed toward us, so fast Melissa doesn't have time to get back to her station. For once, Flynn doesn't seem to notice.

Sliding in the chair on the other side of me, he takes my hand in his, grinning. "Guess what?"

"Um. What?"

"Guess."

"You found a new species of truffle? The price of wine dropped? The olive oil shipment came in?"

Flynn laughs. "All good guesses, but no." He hands me a piece of paper. "Read this shit."

Glancing down at the paper, I read slowly, then read it again. I look up with wide eyes. "No shit?"

"Can you fucking believe it?" Flynn jumps up from the table. "I'm in shock."

"What is it?" Melissa asks.

Flynn nods. "Tell her."

Looking back at the paper, I read aloud. "Renowned food critic, Rhys Camden, will visit your restaurant some time in the month of April. You will be alerted to his upcoming visit exactly three days prior. Please make the necessary arrangements to accommodate Mr. Camden. Regards, Felicity Grant, Secretary to Mr. Camden." I look up. "This is big time, Flynn."

"It's more than big time," he says. "This is it. A positive vote from him and I'll be booked up every night for years."

"Why?" Melissa asks innocently. "Is he special?"

"He's more than special," Flynn explains, sitting again. "He's the only person whose review can shut a place down or make it the hottest seat in town. Four years ago, he went to Remy's, that Jamaican fusion place in Queens."

I tap his arm. "I remember that. After his review, you couldn't get a seat there. They had to move to a bigger space, and the waitlist is still months out."

"Wow," Melissa says.

"Yeah, and there was this other place, Juliet's I think it was called," Flynn continues. "It was a pretty popular place, but he went and they had a bad night. The whole meal was a disaster, and the chef ended up screaming and crying in the back room. Two months later, poof!" He makes an explosion gesture with his hands. "Gone."

"That sucks," Melissa says.

"It does, but if you can't handle a food critic, then you can't be in this business. Not in New York anyway."

Squeezing his hand, I smile. "True story. This is exciting, Flynn. I know you're gonna nail it."

"Thanks. I've been waiting two years for Rhys to notice me."

"How did he?" Melissa asks.

"No idea. Don't care. I'm just glad he did." He grins, biting into a breadstick. "Oh, and by the way, I got the call an hour ago. He's coming Friday."