Italian Ego

Chapter 3

"No."

Sandy had been nagging Seychelles about going on a blind date for the past three days. She had just gotten out of a relationship for God's sake! She needed time... Okay not really, but the last person Sandy had set her up with had been several years older than her. That was back when they were twenty. He was a nice guy and all, but the age didn't make her comfortable. Her best friend had an obsession with older guys. It was weird.

"No? What's that supposed to mean?" she pouted. They were out grabbing some much needed caffeine at their local café.

"Now, Sandy you and I both know that your pout doesn't affect me," Elle scolded.

"I know, but it's worth a try. Please, Elle. I'm begging you."

"Tell me about him. If I like what I hear then I guess I've got myself a date."

"Okay, so his name's Alfonso..."

"Alfonso? Isn't that your half-brother’s name?"

"Yes, it is. He's the very same."

"So you want me to go out with the biggest grouch you know? Aren't you always complaining about him and how he's always switching girlfriends and what not?" Elle was already racking her brain for brilliant excuses to avoid this obvious trap.

"Yes, but I think you two will be really good for each other. Besides, you two have never met and it's about time. Plus you don't even know him. We're very different, so you might actually like him when you finally get the chance to."

"I've had enough of guys who treat women like trash. I mean I just spent a whole year on that loser, Carlos. And, no offence, but your brother fits that description to a T."

They took a moment to sit down at a small table for two in the warm cozy atmosphere. Both young women sipped gratefully at their hot drinks as the heat chased away the frigid cold that the cold, Seattle morning had injected into their bones.

"Okay, let's make a deal then. It won't be a date. It'll just be dinner. One meal, that's all. You don't like him, no sweat. It's not like I'm asking you to marry the guy." Sandy had always been relentless.

Elle sighed in resignation. "Alright then. When will it be?"

"I'll get back to you on that. Let's go grab a bite to eat after these drinks. There's an amazing restaurant at the newest Santangelli hotel."

"They're all amazing," Elle said dryly. "And I can't afford a place like that. It costs a small fortune just to be seated there."

"Why should you care?" Sandy snorted. "Your dad's one of the richest men in the city."

"I know, but that's his money, not mine. I don't want him to think I need him for everything. I'm supposed to be independent, remember?"

"Don't sweat it, Miss Independent. I know the chef. He's a friend of mine. We'll get a free meal," Sandy said as she led them both out of their small café and into her car.

***

"I can't believe you've got connections in this place! It's so amazing," Elle gushed as they were seated. "What would I do without you?"

"It's a mystery," Sandy said with a smug smile. "I mean I am, simply put, amazing."

Elle snorted at that. "The only thing amazing about you is your ego. I mean how big is that thing?"

Sandy scowled at her. She opened her mouth to retort when one of the two empty chairs at their table of four was pulled out. Luigi sank down onto the lush seat and smiled at them both.

"Hello Sandy," he smiled. "I saw you come in and decided to take my lunch break now."

"Why a chef decides to take a break at lunch time is beyond me," Sandy said as she stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "This is Seychelles, and this is Luigi."

Elle looked up at Luigi and smiled. "Everyone calls me Elle. It's nice to meet you." She offered her hand and they exchanged firm handshakes.

"It's nice to meet you too. Sandy always talks about you, ever since she was a kid. I was beginning to think you were imaginary or something."

They both laughed at that. Sandy pulled a lock of Luigi's hair roughly. Their dishes arrived soon after and they began digging in.

"This is amazing!" Elle said after swallowing a mouthful. "Like nothing I've ever tasted."

"I've had better," Sandy said as she pushed her plate aside; empty.

Luigi raised an eyebrow. "Really? And where have you tasted better?"

"In my kitchen. Elle's cooking is incredible."

Elle narrowed her eyes and pushed aside the compliment. "I'm okay. Not as good as this though."

"Yes you are! She’s like better than Anthony Bourdain and Paul Bocuse put together! You should taste her cooking!"

Luigi's eyes sparked with interest. He turned his gaze on Elle. She ignored it because she refused to entertain Sandy's nosiness.

"Well we have to get going, it really was an amazing meal, Luigi. I'll definitely be coming back," she said as she got up, grabbed Sandy's hand roughly and pulled her along.

He rose and escorted them to their car. "You two owe me," he said smugly. "One of these weekends we'll have a bake off."

"That is so not going to happen," Elle scoffed.

"We'll see about that," Luigi muttered to himself as he watched them drive away.

He opened the passenger door for Sandy and closed it shut as soon as she was seated. He waved them goodbye and went back into his lair; his kitchen.

***

"What is wrong with you?" Elle shouted as soon as the door to their living room closed behind them.

"What did I do?" Sandy asked innocently. She threw herself on the couch furthest from the TV and stretched out comfortably.

"You put me on the spot back there!"

"So what, Elle? You can cook, almost as well as him, as a matter of fact. Why is that something to be ashamed of?"

Elle sighed as she walked over to Sandy and plopped herself on the edge of the couch. "That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

"Damn you, Sandy! I know what you're trying to do, but it won't work."

Sandy grinned cheekily. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You want me to cook with Luigi so that I give up my internship with that hotel! But I'll tell you now that it won't work so give it up."

"Why do you let him bully you like this?" Sandy demanded.

"He doesn't bully me! I made this choice and I have to do this," Elle said, pleading with her friend to understand.

"All you're doing is trying to prove a point to your father and making yourself miserable while you're at it," Sandy said matter-of-factly while she scrolled through her phone.

Elle shook her head. Sandy just didn't understand. She got up and walked away, out onto the balcony.

She needed to think.

***

Murray Welts was a good man; a great one. He was kind and considerate to just about everyone, despite this, everyone had their flaws. He was overprotective, almost boorishly so when it came to his wife and daughter. This overprotectiveness was laced with a heavy amount of chauvinism.

He was the kind of man that believed a woman's place was in the kitchen and at home, at the disposal of her husband and children. Old fashioned was the kindest way to describe this part of his personality.

Ever since Elle was a toddler she'd been fascinated with cooking. She'd started experimenting with mud-pies and moved on to cupcakes. By the time she was twelve she had won her local neighbourhood bake-off. When she was thirteen she dug her fingers into the world of meats and spices. She found that she was rather talented when it came to cuisine.

Her father loved the fact that she was, in his words, training to be a good wife. That was when she began to notice that he didn't ever question what career path she chose, simply because he expected her to be a full-time mother.

To say he was furious when she told him of her plans to be an advertising executive is an understatement. He forbade her from 'filling her head with such nonsense'. She admitted she was a bit of a daddy's girl, and no one expected her to go through with it. They were all wrong.

She wanted to earn her father's respect, more than anything, and as much as she loved it, she knew cooking wouldn't help her achieve her goal. So she thrust her dreams of becoming a chef and caterer aside and set her sight on becoming something more practical so she could earn his respect. As much as he hated it, her father couldn't do anything about it.

She made it clear to him that she would pursue her career, with or without his blessing.

So here she was, almost five years later, fresh out of college and still trying to prove her professional worth to her father. While she was at it, she knew she was giving up her dream, but she knew how the old saying went: with great risk came great reward