The Winemaker's Dinner: Entrée by Everly Drummond, Dr. Ivan Rusilko Page A

thing, boss,” he replied. With a spring in his step, he returned to the back of the kitchen and the task at hand.
    Five minutes passed, and then ten—without so much as a peep from Damian. Jaden busied herself with putting the final touches on the plate of steamed clams, and the camera crew readied themselves for the final segment.
    Bang! She turned to find her favorite serving platter shattered into a million shards and scattered across the tile floor of the set. Damian stood beside the stove, his hands now empty. He looked at the mess, but instead of bending down to pick it up, he just shrugged and turned away as if nothing had happened. It’s not my platter, it’s the network’s , she reminded herself, but deep breaths were of little use now. She’d had just about enough of Damian and his entitled attitude.
    “All right, boys and girls. Let’s wrap it up and call it a day. Everyone take your places,” the cameraman called as the crew finished cleaning up the set.
    Damian looked down at Jaden, smugness oozing from every pore in his body, and winked. “I have a date with Cathy from editing tonight,” he whispered. “Let me know if you’d like to join us.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, then turned toward the camera and began to speak. “So with your seafood feast prepared…”
    Jaden swallowed her shock and composed herself as quickly as she could, but not before Damian had taken the liberty of describing the clams she’d prepared. Poor Cathy , she thought. And poor me.
    The next twenty minutes felt like the longest of her life. When the cameraman finally yelled, “Cut!” she hightailed it to the closest exit, not bothering with a final review or even a change out of her kitchen whites.
    She hurried around the corner to the spot where Adam parked. She didn’t have the patience to text him and wait for him to pull around to the front of the building.
    As she slipped into the backseat, he looked up from his newspaper, surprised. “You’re in a hurry, Ms. Thorne!”
    “It was a long day.” She laughed half-heartedly. “I’m ready to be somewhere else.”
    “Straight home tonight?” he asked.
    “Yes, please.”
    She sank into the black leather seat and was thankful when he raised the partition between them. Somehow he always seemed to know when she needed time to herself. As the studio disappeared behind them, she fished her cell phone from her purse. As she suspected, not a single message from Ivan. He’d been consumed with his new practice and busy supporting various local charities. Mostly by attending their cocktail events , she thought bitterly. And now he was out of town on some trip. She didn’t even know this time where he was…There was, however, a text from Tasha. It was short and to the point:
    Call me…NOW!
    Jaden calculated the time difference between LA and Miami…a little past eleven pm on the east coast. With any luck Tasha would be asleep and she could postpone the inevitable tongue lashing she was sure to get from her best friend. They didn’t talk nearly often enough.
    “Hello?” Tasha answered, her voice heavy with sleep, after a few rings.
    “Hey, it’s me,” Jaden whispered. “You sound tired. Why don’t I call you back tomorrow?”
    “Oh no you don’t! I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”
    After some chatter about the weather, Tasha seemed awake. And she jumped right in, as blunt as ever. “So, how are things working out with Ken?”
    “You mean Damian?” Jaden spat, the day’s frustrations coming back in a rush.
    “Yeah, pretty boy. Who else would I be talking about?”
    But talking about Damian was the last thing she wanted to do. “Can we please talk about something else?”
    “Sure!” Tasha said much too agreeably. “Do you want to tell me why, in all the weeks since you went to Napa—what was that? Almost two months ago?—you haven’t mentioned that Ivan dropped the M-bomb during your trip?”
    “What? Wait…how do you even know about