Dearest Chef

Chapter 6

I watch the dark night with unusual suspicion, feeling more and more apprehensive.

Despite having returned to California a few days ago, it did not leave my body that feeling of being watched all the time, causing me enormous discomfort.

My brother had not returned from surgery and I suspect that this delay also had to do with the fact that he was in search of his lover on duty, which seemed to me that it was time to dispatch.

But of course, telling Evan about it was like an unforgivable offense, a blasphemy that always ended up putting him in a bad mood.

I think it would have been easier to confess that I am gay, that this absurd s****l agreement with his student must end. I'm sure Evan would not care about my s****l preferences, to tell him again the disadvantages of continuing to embark on that dangerous relationship with Leilah Ferguson.

He seemed to play blind over and over again, lying about his mood, his stupid gawking smiles, and how reluctant he was to realize that this woman was changing his life. 

For better or worse? For me it was really the second option.

I roll my eyes and head inside the house, feeling more and more nervous as I remember over and over the words of bastard Miles.

The streets are quiet and lonely, giving the stage an even gloomier look, one perhaps set for a tragic night or the arrival of bad news.

I am aware that I don't have to feel this way, I had days that I did not receive any threats, or news of Miles or one of his henchmen, see Jasmine or Roger.

Although with the last one, I had not been wanting to receive another one.

Things had been so calm, it already seemed strange to me. Or maybe it was that I had gotten used to having his steps behind me all the time. 

I ruffle with my hair with frustration, living this way is about to end my nerves.

Despite the calm, I lived tense, waiting for some event to take me out of my comfort zone and for problems to begin to suffocate me, as if they were a thick mist. 

I am in a worse mood than ever.

Miles wasn't one to stand still when they thought someone owed him something and I was aware that he hated me now more than ever, especially for what had happened the last time. 

I head to the kitchen determined to prepare a recipe, any one, that will help me get those dark thoughts out of my system. 

I put on my white apron and get to work, choosing to make a Plávlola cake, a delicacy of New Zealand and Australian origin, one of my favorites.

It wasn't that easy, but I was really enjoying doing what I love the most in life. I'm focused on my task, when the sound of the door catches my attention, surely announcing the arrival of my brother.

As soon as I step out of my favorite space, it amazes me in my place to see that little woman, who looks at me between shame and satisfaction. I feel the expression on my face harden and I clench my teeth to keep from saying something scathing, surely Evan would not find it a bit of funny.

She says nothing, heading straight for the stairs, without a word in between and with an evident blush on her face, although it wasn't that I wanted to exchange anything with her, I just wanted her to get out of the way.

Evan looks at me seriously, though I notice his gaze refusing to stray from where his lover just passed, straight into his room.

"Hello, Peter," he greets in a monotone, taking off his tie. His eyes have barely settled on me. 

Without saying anything else, he heads for the stairs and I decide I don't want to hear moans or gasps from that woman today, so I turn on the music player and play the loudest song I can think of at full volume. 

"Hello, stranger," I mutter wryly, in a low voice.

I return to my shelter to finish the recipe, thanking that the date to travel is close. The month of November was gone and in a few days I would have to travel again to return until January, which was like a glove.

I can't stand the idea of being in that house anymore, not only because of the constant visits from this woman Leilah, but because being around my brother makes me apprehensive, because of the crazy idea that one of Miles's henchmen might harm him.

I snort, because maybe I should tell Evan everything that had happened, total, all that was no longer part of my present and I did not expect to get involved again, as I had clarified in Spain with Miles.

I was sure he would find a way to get revenge, the very idea of what he could do gave me chills. I try very hard to get those gloomy thoughts out of my system, telling myself that it would be useless to ponder about it.

I focus on finishing my dessert, not thinking about anything other than what I'm doing right now.

***

California's climate is changing, the temperature is starting to drop even though we haven't reached the end of the month yet. However, it is not half as cold as it is in Canada.

I shudder at the memories I had had and I don't even understand the knot that suddenly forms in my stomach, thinking of Miles' revenge to end without further ado, with the life of his sister's best friend and two of his henchmen. 

The fact that Jasmine has not even refused such atrocity reveals to me that she is as dangerous as her brother, perhaps more.

This time I shudder with displeasure, because I was able to want to get involved again in all that s**t of life, from which I still could'nt completely escape.

For a second, I think how those damned would do to disappear their traces of the sinister, to escape like nothing. If the authorities were at least on their trail, I even think that with my testimony I would be doing good to society, although I ran the risk of ending up locked up as well.

Or maybe dead.

Would it be a good idea to give them away? To what extent could it affect me or the people around me?

I shake my head disapprovingly, because I know that all of that would also come to splatter on Evan and, therefore, everyone around us. Involving more people and having them pay for something that was just my fault caused me to spasms of regret, made me feel sick.

I walk quickly along the concrete esplanade, heading to my job at the restaurant on Fifth Avenue, the one where I have to be while cruise ship trips depart.

I look at the time, feeling that I am running late and suddenly, a strange movement to my left makes me stop suspiciously, feeling again that they are watching me.

I frown and walk almost normally, but it is difficult for me to do so, since the same nerves that had assaulted me the other night come back stronger, like a bad feeling that it is about to come. 

I take a deep breath and prepare to run, the street is a bit crowded and I'm sure they don't want a scandal that involves them fully, Miles likes the discretion in each one of his plans.

"If you move or run I'll stab you in the back," I hear a voice behind me, hoarse and unpleasant. I stop immediately, weighing my chances of escape: none. "You sure don't want that, right?" 

A bitter sensation runs through my back and down my stomach. My mouth is dry and my hands are shaking, I don't know if it's from fear or anger.

"Who you are? What the hell you want?" I clench my teeth and my hands around the bag that hangs from my shoulder. "I have nothing to give you, you better go the way you came, or …"

 "Why don't you stop playing the brave and shut up the f*****g time, Peter Roberts?" He threatens near me, I can even feel the knife at my side. I swallow hard, looking quickly around me. "One wrong move and I leave you like a float deflated, you bastard."

"You haven't told me what you want, or who you are," I try to moderate my tone of voice, aware that I could suffer a serious injury and who knows what would happen to Evan. The air escapes me just thinking about it. "Finish talking, damn it."

"This is a warning from Miles," he laughs dryly, I clench my fists trying not to do something stupid. "That it does not occur to you to be a loudmouth, or ... your relatives will suffer the consequences."

He laughs again and I feel the anger beginning to invade my system. Threatening me because it's afraid that I'm going to say something? Since when did Miles go around with that s**t? He knew he didn't have to send one of his thugs to watch me, it was completely absurd.

"Why the hell should I say something?" I struggle not to insult him, although I feel that the words get stuck in my throat that it burns. "Miles knows I'm not a sneak , I'm not stupid enough to put my life or the lives of my loved ones at risk."

"You just worry about staying quiet as you have been up to now." I feel the sharp point dig into my skin hard, I stifle a groan of pain in my throat and I fight not to move. "Do it, or it will you repent."

The next thing that happens is so fast, that I hardly have time to measure my reactions. From one moment, the blade digs into my body even more and I take a step forward, undoing the guy's grip, turning on my own axis and taking the hand that wields the weapon. 

"But… what?" He snaps when he realizes what happens. I have him grasped in such a way that he cannot move his arm nor does he have the possibility of escaping. "Let go of me, you bastard!"

His ugly face falls apart and he glares at me. I stare at him, noticing the horrible scar across his right cheek, his dark eyes sparkling with anger.

"Now what will you do, you slop?" It's impossible not to feel incredibly powerful, with  adrenaline rushing along with my emboldened heart. "Do you think you can come threaten me, threaten my loved ones and get away with it?"

"You don't know who you're messing with, you don't know what you're doing," he says annoyed, looking around hungrily and shaking like a cowardly rat. I don't know if anyone notices us, I just want to stop this s**t. "Do you want Miles to finish you off at once?"

"At once?" I repeat through my teeth, feeling anger boil through my system like lava. "Why it does not surprise me? I'd expect anything from that damn garbage."

I try to ignore the feeling that runs through me as I shapes his words. Miles really is a dirty, unscrupulous ruffian, surely Jasmine was pretty bad and as soon as she died, he damned would have the free way to do what he always wanted: get rid of me.

"Be very careful, Peter," the nasty fellow begins to chuckle, causing me to want to hit him, wipe that damn sardonic smile off his face. "Becoming brave won't do any good, better watch your back from now on."

"Shut up, you son of a b***h!" I yell through my teeth, trying to snatch the gun from her hands.

He frantically pulls on my arm and I fight, imposing all the strength I am capable of, trying to drop the knife again, as he seems determined to stab me this time. 

I look around for a few seconds, in case I find a policeman or someone to help me, but the street seems almost deserted. I return to the task of not letting myself be stabbed by this bastard, feeling that his strength is diminishing before my staunch determination.

The guy suddenly starts laughing like a maniac, determined to hurt me or worse. I feel my heart pounding in my throat and sweat trickling down the back of my neck, the damn one seems funny at first, but then his face turns into a mask of anger and disbelief.

I pull hard and he does the same, struggling to try to break free and get his job done. Suddenly, in a rush of adrenaline; I push harder and he stands still, staring at me with wide eyes, gasping like a fish out of water. 

I swallow hard and look down at something wet, my hands are soaked with blood. My stomach flips and my breathing quickens.

That vision makes me nauseous and gasp in disbelief, finally releasing my grip and holding the knife in my hands.

The man collapses in place and I step back, feeling the pulse thunder in my ears. My hands are shaking and my head is spinning. Someone lets out a cry from somewhere and suddenly I hear murmurs around me, the feeling is overwhelming and I feel sick, scared.

Everything feels like in a movie, I stare in disbelief at the scene in front of me and my breath hitches to the point of hyperventilation. What the hell have I done? 

 My feet move almost of their own free will and I run out of there, feeling cold sweat run down my forehead and a powerful urge to return my stomach that almost achieves its goal. 

I don't stop until my lungs cry out for breathlessness, I look around me, praying that no one has followed me. I look at my hands, which still have the gun and take out a handkerchief, wiping the blood and wrapping the knife, which ends up at the bottom of my bag.

"Think, Peter, think" I urged me despite my fear and my scrambled mind, to try to get out of this quagmire.

I shake from head to toe and for a moment I flop onto a park bench, not quite believing what just happened. I feel terrible, dirty, and even worse than Miles's henchmen.

I take my cell phone to call work to say I am not going, claiming to have suddenly become ill.

I'm not lying at all, I had never stabbed anyone and the memory is disturbing. Although the guy deserved it and I was only looking to defend myself, I can't help but think that I shouldn't have run, that had been too suspicious. 

I ruffle  my hair in frustration, feeling my eyes sore and throat knotted. The air doesn't seem to reach me right now and my body hasn't stopped shaking, I guess it's adrenaline.

Right now I don't know what to do, but I imagine that passers-by will call the police and give statements, surely it was a matter of time before they found my whereabouts. 

The prospect is daunting wherever you look at it.

On impulse, I take out my cell phone and type in Miles' number, to inform him what had happened and even tell him about the evil that he was going to die. I feel anger and fear at the same time; the sensation suffocates me, makes me feel terribly dizzy.

On the second ring, his unpleasant voice sounds.

"Peter, what a surprise!" He exclaims in a cheerful tone, as if we were lifelong friends. "To what is the honor due? Tell me you thought better of it and finally decided to accept my deal."

I clench my fists at my sides, trying to calm the latent fear and rage.

"Not in a million years, you f*****g bastard," I say furiously, wanting to be near him to at least twist his neck. "Why don't you tell me why the hell did you send one of your men to threaten me?" 

There is a short silence on the other end of the line, and I roll my eyes at murmurs, which only exacerbate my frustration. 

"You confuse me, Peter," his voice is heard again, this time incredulous. "I have not sent anyone to threaten you, you are wrong."

"Don't f*****g play innocent!" I raise my voice and the people around me stare at me. I try to control myself, lowering my tone. "The damn said you sent it, to warn me not to get off my tongue and give you away! What are you playing at, you dirty bastard?" 

"Peter, Peter ..." Miles laughs suddenly, surely shaking his head. "There are many people who hate you and who will use that argument to be sent by me, but I know that you would not be able to give me away Also, why bother sending someone there if I can do it on my own?" 

I clench my teeth in frustration.

"No, then, how considerate the man!" I snap through my teeth, rolling my eyes. Miles laughs again. "If you didn't send it, then where did that bastard come from, who dared to threaten to hurt my loved ones?" 

There is a hissing noise from the other side.

"Someone with enough balls to dare to say my name, Peter." Miles clicks his tongue in discontent. "And ... what happened to him?" 

I take a deep breath before speaking, not sure if it's a good idea to tell him the truth. Maybe it's just a ruse and I'm playing the part of an i***t.

“We strained and I stabbed him… accidentally, of course.” Saying it brings a sour feeling to my stomach again. Miles lets out an exclamation of astonishment. "I was upset and the damn one was determined to hurt me."

"I knew you had the guts, kid." He sounds quite pleased, which makes me frown immediately. "I would have done the same too, it was in self defense anyway, so don't worry."

"I ran out." Remembering the stupidity I committed does not make me feel exactly proud, in fact, I feel that I screwed up even more. "I know I shouldn't have, but I was feeling too confused and now …"

"Oh, I see." He lengthens the words, clicking his tongue again. "So you need protection …"

"Did I ask you for such a thing?" I respect in a bad mood when suspecting his intentions. "I didn't call you for help, just to tell you that I don't allow you any more threats, I don't owe you anything and you don't seem to understand that, damn. 

"But it's you who didn't understand, Peter." His tone of voice sounds too condescending for my liking. "I have not sent anyone to threaten you, I already told you. I don't have to deny something I've done, it doesn't make sense, right?"

"Oh, well, excuse me if I don't believe you, being innocent not breaking a plate!" I scoff with implicit irony. On the other side, he snorts in annoyance. "I don't know what you're up to, damn you, but I won't let myself be intimidated by you or anyone, do you understand me?"

"You're wrong from beginning to end if you think I want to hurt you, Peter." His voice sounds stoic for the first time, so I get tense. "I just want help from you, for you to become my partner" he pauses for a long time and rolls my eyes. "If you want, I can send for you while the waters calm down. Take it as a personal favor."

"I don't need your favors, yours or anyone else," I wait dry, feeling my hands tremble. I just hope you tell me the truth, or you will know once and for all what I am really capable of. 

I hang up quickly without waiting for an answer, knowing that I have been quite daring in addressing him that way. 

Perhaps my courage is due to my state of mind, my stomach jumps with powerful nausea and my body is apprehensive of what may happen now. 

I let out a deep sigh and my hands itch with the urge to call Evan and ask for his help. I have a lump in my throat and my legs are still shaking.

On the one hand, I know that he would not hesitate to support me, despite the reproach and claims that he would surely give me, and with good reason. But surely I would count on his help without hesitation.

But on the other hand, involving him in this whole situation as well would be counterproductive for his career and I don't want that thing for nothing in this world, besides the danger it would imply for him and those around him.

I try to breathe evenly, thinking that the best thing is to get further away from the site. Overall, I have the gun in my bag and people in the midst of chaos and confusion tend not to remember people's features, much less details.

In addition, in a few days I would be leaving on a cruise ship and disappearing would serve me to put together a plan that does not imply being imprisoned, much less receiving a favor from that bastard Miles.

"I have to think well what to do, I can't make my life more complicated, damn it" I tell myself over and over again, directing my steps home on a sinking stomach, hoping I'm doing the right thing.

***

I take the weapon in my hands, still wrapped in the handkerchief, and throw it with all my might into the vast sea.

I let out the air and the mist of the cold is present immediately. The low temperatures are soaking my bones in an impossible way, forcing me to wrap my arms around myself.

The sea breeze ruffles my hair and the cold feels on my skin, my cheeks are tense. A strong chill runs down my spine and my shoulders are shaking for the umpteenth time.

I am aware that I should be in my cabin and that this climate will only make me sick, but what happened in California does not come out of my head and I was still apprehensive and worried. Seeing the sea always manages to relax me a bit, despite the cold of the moment.

"You should come in, Peter." I hear Carlson next to me, he takes a drag on his cigarette and looks at me with a grin. "You will do nothing but get sick with this cold."

"Do not tell me! What a find!" I think ironic.

"In that case, what are you doing here, Carl?" I roll my eyes, tightening my arms around me. "You look like my damn tail, always behind me."

"You're welcome for worrying about you, moron," he sneers, rolling his eyes. "Believe it or not, I consider you my friend, Peter."

"Who are you calling moron, you mindless bastard?" I fear threateningly and he raises his hands, surrendering. "I know what is hidden behind that concern, don't play the fool."

"What are you talking about?" He frowns with that damn pantomime of ignorance. I clench my teeth to hold on and not break his f*****g nose.

"You just follow in my footsteps, because your damn boss wants to keep an eye on me," I snort in a bad mood, glancing at him. His gesture darkens and he lets out a sigh. "And don't deny it, damn it. I know what he's up doing and he wont get it from me."

"You don't trust me." It's not a question. I roll my eyes, clenching my teeth at his contrite gesture. "You have to stop being so suspicious, Peter, I would never betray you. Besides, Miles is not as bad as you think."

"I'm sorry to destroy your fairy tale illusions, Carl," I sneer, and he snorts. "Miles is a piece of s**t and you know it. Just because he wants to act like Mother Teresa of Calcutta doesn't mean he is, don't be a jerk."

"Why in such a bad mood for a change?" He says wryly, quickly changing the subject. I raise an eyebrow in his direction. Yeah, I know you don't like me getting into your business, but it really makes me uneasy to see you so pensive and taciturn, Pete."

"I'm up to my neck in mud, I don't understand how I should feel, Carlson," I speak in a bad mood, remembering his upbeat demeanor as if he's not involved in so much s**t. "I don't understand how you can sleep at night, it seems that in addition to brains, you lack common sense."

"It's not always that bad, you know." He whispers almost without a voice, I twist my lips in disdain. "I know you wouldn't understand, but thanks to this I have had Lía's chemotherapies. If it weren't for this, I would have lost her a long time ago.” His voice cracks and I look away, uncomfortable.

"I don't have a reason to stay there, I'm not like you," I comment absently, thinking again about the guy who was stabbed and the consequences it would entail. "I just want to work on what I love and now, I don't need any more complications and you know it, Carl."

"I know, buddy." He slaps my back and lets out a deep sigh. "I will go to rest, today was a tiring day. You come?" 

I nod without looking at him and extend my hand in his direction. He understands it perfectly and after smiling like a fool, he hands me a cigarette and a lighter. 

"Thanks, loser," I roll my eyes.

"I love you." He blows a hand kiss and I'm about to kick him but he scurries away, laughing.

"Effeminate," I bit out through my teeth.

I light the cigarette and close my eyes, taking a deep breath and feeling one by one my muscles begin to relax. However, because of the thoughts I cannot do anything and that frustrates me more and more.

It is not until they announce that we are going to disembark for a few hours in Bridgetown Harbor, Barbados, that a very agitated Carlson enters my cabin with a puzzled face.

I'm about to yell at him to knock before I go in, but it amazes me at my place to see how pale he looks.

"What the f**k, Carl?"

"The ... The police, members of Interpol are looking for you," he hesitates. I frown immediately, and my stomach flips. "They are waiting for you at the pier."

"Didn't they say what for?" I finish putting on my shirt and rush to get my things ready. It's just what I don't need right now.

Did it have something to do with the guy stabbed in California? Or was there some other reason why these people were looking for me precisely?

Carlson shakes his head and looks at me scared, like he's just seen a ghost. I roll my eyes at his exaggerated gestures and head toward the landing gate, trying to relax.

Maybe it's something bad, but I'm not going to do like Carlson, that attitude would only make me more suspicious. I am aware that being requested by the international police does not bode well, but I try to lift my chin and keep my face undaunted.

I walk like nothing and as soon as I get to the exit, I can see some uniformed men, things don't look good at all and I can barely swallow. I take a deep breath to control my nerves.

"Mr. Peter Roberts," says one, with a long face like a horse. "We are from Interpol."

"Yes, tell me what you need." I feel my stomach clench and the pulse thunder in my ears, I cling to the railing, feeling my legs sag.

"We have an arrest warrant against you from Inspector Louis Darmond of the Canadian Federal Police. He wants to ask you a few questions regarding the murder of Roxanne Dwan" at the mention of that name, my breath escapes me. "They have issued a yellow alert, where his name has been implicated."

I remain static, wondering how I had been associated with her, I don't even want to imagine the reasons or the suspicions that could fall on me.

"I've only traveled to Canada a few times, I haven't had much dealings with her." My mouth has gone dry and I feel my hands shaking. "I don't understand how I could help you."

"You'll find out soon enough, sir." He sharpens his gaze, pointing to the end of the pier. "We need you to come with us, you will immediately travel to Canada with the competent authorities of that country."

I nod just once and immediately call my boss, who surely would not be happy at all, but nothing could be done. I feel like my stomach is shrinking like a raisin and my head is spinning, wondering how they could have involved me with that woman.

I immediately think of Miles and clench my teeth in frustration.

I'm about to cry out in disgust, however, I take a deep breath through my mouth, deciding to follow the policemen and think about what I'm going to say to them. 

Anyway, the period of time in which we had been together and the signs of his death were several weeks apart and at that time of the accident I was in Spain, it was something that could easily prove.

But what I knew about Roxanne and Miles was spinning through my head and I wondered for a few seconds, if it wouldn't be better to tell the whole truth and face the consequences of my mistakes, of getting involved again with that garbage.

The ringing of my cell phone distracts me and I gasp in disbelief when I realize it's from Evan. I did not expect a message from him, not after the discussion we had last time.

Was he already aware of the alert? Would someone have told him that the international police were looking for me? Would it be time for all my lies to be found out?

I take a deep breath and my hands shake before opening my brother's message.