Guilty Pleasures Read Free Page A

Lindsay’s response.
    Lindsay took a deep breath, and Mari could almost see the calculations working in her eyes. “If you hired him at base pay, you could probably manage,” Lindsay said slowly.
    â€œBase pay?” Mari shook her head. “Have you seen the guy’s resumé? Four Seasons, Blackstone’s. He was managing Le Chapeau Noir, for pity’s sake.”
    Lindsay’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. What happened there, anyway? I get the feeling he got fired.”
    Mari thought about it. “I don’t know.”
    â€œYou don’t know?” Lindsay’s eyes widened. “Don’t you think that’s something you ought to investigate before you think about hiring someone? He could be an embezzler or something….”
    â€œOr he could have been set up by his partner,” Mari said in a flat tone of voice.
    Lindsay stopped, her sharp gaze softening. “You know I didn’t mean that,” she said, her voice gentle. “I know how hard it was for you to get a job…after the whole Le Pome nightmare.”
    Mari winced just to hear the name of the restaurant she used to run…one that had gone out of business in a spectacular burst of failure, thanks to the owner’s mismanagement and her own naive need to please. “An old teacher of mine recommended him,” she said instead. “He needs a chance. And he’s good… I’m not just saying that.”
    Lindsay bit her lip, then nodded. “Well, if he accepts base pay, then I’ll add him to payroll.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Mari said, feeling a knot of tension she didn’t realize she was holding loosen in her chest. “I’ll persuade him.”
    â€œIf anyone could, it’d be you.” Lindsay smiled, but Mari could still see concern haunting the corners of it.
    â€œLindsay,” Mari said, in a low voice. “How bad is it, really?”
    The smile slipped away. “If things don’t change,” she said, in an emotionless tone, “I give us four months. And that’s on the outside.”
    Mari blanched. “I knew things weren’t going well…”
    â€œThe lease is going to need to be renewed then, and there’s a good chance rent will go up. And we were hoping more business would come in, now that spring’s here and summer’s coming,” Lindsay said. “But we need to do something. I don’t know. Promotion, maybe.” She looked at Mari, her tone hesitant. “I know a restaurant critic with the Chronicle… ”
    â€œNo critics.” Mari’s reaction was swift and reflexive.
    Lindsay took a deep breath. This was one point Mari could never really get across to her. “Mari, it’s the cheapest form of promotion….”
    â€œYeah. And you can’t guarantee the results.” Mari closed her eyes, remembering the critics’ response to Le Pome: The culinary equivalent of “Bonfire of the Vanities”, Le Pome is an overpriced, overhyped, pretentious nightmare of a restaurant. She winced. “Weget a critic who decides to make his name by tearing us to shreds with some humorously deadly review, and we’re nailing the coffin shut, Lindsay.”
    Lindsay put her hands up. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
    Mari closed her eyes. Lindsay meant well. But her restaurant was her life—and talking to critics had killed her last dream, and she wasn’t eager to rush out and go through that again. “Let me think about it, at least.”
    Lindsay took the concession, and quickly rushed on. “I don’t know. You might want to work on a new menu, too. Tweak it a little.”
    Mari nodded. She’d thought about doing that, anyway. “Will do.”
    â€œMaybe get that new chef to help you?”
    Mari thought about it. Nick, with his expensive suit and his slow smile…and those very hot gazes of his. He knew he was good. Back when she