“It’s to Jimmy Eat World and those nights in my car . . .”
Caught off guard, I snorted out a laugh, the plates wobbling dangerously in my hands.
Max’s eyes snapped open, the bottle of wine almost slipping from his grasp as he twirled around. He wore a comically horrified expression as he caught sight of me, trying to catch his breath.
“Holy shit! I thought you left!” he exclaimed, clutching a hand to his chest.
I couldn’t help but smirk. “Honestly, didn’t think you’d be the ‘emo-kid-at-heart’ type. Your scream-singing to Something Corporate was pretty spot-on.”
He reddened slightly, trying to regain his composure. “It helps with the inventory checks. Sort of a stress release, you know? And, for your information, ‘emo-kid-at-heart’ happens to be a very accurate description. But I didn’t expect you to know that song,” Max replied.
“What, did you expect me to only know the music they play at Pacha?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
Max held his arms up in defense, a kitchen towel dangling from one hand, but said nothing.
Smirking, I held up the plates, the strong aroma filling the air. “I come bearing food from places with questionable exteriors and unparalleled culinary prowess. Care to join?” I asked.
His eyes lit up, looking grateful for the food, and Max nodded. “Hell, with a sales pitch like that, how could I refuse?”
“So,” I started, as I gently blew on a steaming piece of garlic chicken, “I’ve been meaning to ask. Did you ever think you’d end up working at a sex club?”
Max chuckled as he scooped some food on his fork. “Definitely not. Mostly because what I had in my head as a ‘sex club’ was a whole heck of a lot dirtier than here.”
“And stickier,” I added.
A laugh, deep and infectious, came from Max and it made me smile. “Yes, definitely stickier. It was a bit of an adjustment at first, for sure. My mom and sisters really don’t understand it. But once you hear the purpose of this place from your brother or Liam, something changes.”
“Yeah, it’s weird feeling proud of my brother for owning a sex club. But you’re right . . . there’s something different about this place,” I said.
“They’re wanting to expand, you know,” Max said between a bite of chicken, “to other clubs.”
I raised my eyebrows in question. “Really? Hmm. Okay, I have another question for you.”
“Shoot, I’m all ears,” Max said.
“Are you setting out to be the youngest Advanced Sommelier in the world?” I asked.
Max looked up at me as he leaned against the back of the bar with his plate in his hand. “Do you know much about the sommelier programs?”
I shrugged. “I’ve chatted with enough sommeliers all over Europe. I know it’s crazy hard to do and there aren’t that many young people who make it through the highest levels.”
Something odd flickered in Max’s eyes before he answered. “Yeah, it is crazy hard. I think there might be a young guy from Japan who made it to the Master level, but I’d be the next youngest for sure. But that test has a massive fail rate so who knows.” He glanced down at his plate, mixing some rice in with the sauce.
“Well, maybe I can help you study, you know, like flashcards or something,” I said. “You did really well at the tasting last week. I don’t think our guests would have guessed that you were panicking just a couple of hours before they got here.”
“You were a big help with that, you know,” Max said. “Your brother did say that the Whitfields specifically called to rave about it and asked if we were going to host more.” He let out a huge breath.
“You seem overwhelmed,” I commented.
“It’s just a lot of details I’ll need to work out on top of everything else. I have this idea of partnering with lesser-known growers across the globe.” Max’s face lit up as he spoke. “I know we have great ones in our vendor list already, but they’re established and doing well. There are a lot of growers out there that haven’t been discovered yet or been given a chance because they’re so small. I want to introduce our guests who have really deep pockets to new sources.”
I smiled. “You have a good heart, Max.”
He shrugged. “I just know what it feels like for someone to take a chance on you, and I know how important it is to have someone believe in you. Especially when most people expect you to fail.”
My eyes turned soft as they held Max’s. There was something under the surface of this man I was itching to figure out.
“But doing that,” Max continued, “means a lot more events that I just don’t have the bandwidth to organize right now.”
