Simmer Down

thin that she probably never ate anything anyway. Sarka had a natural beauty that would have made even my beautiful friend Adrianna jealous. Her dark hair was slicked back into a simple ponytail. The severe style highlighted her gorgeous cheekbones and wide hazel eyes. It was impossible to stand next to someone like this and not feel horrendously unattractive. I yanked at my red hair, willing it to not succumb to the unseasonable humidity and frizz up.
    In an effort at friendliness, I said, “Sarka! What a pretty name. And so unusual.”
    “Check,” she said, as if we were going through some sort of to-do list together. Rather, that’s what I heard her say.
    Responding to what must have been my baffled look, she said in a flat tone, “As in the Czech Republic.” Her face was as expressionless as her voice.
    Feeling like a dope, I listened in as Josh and Barry continued to talk. It became apparent that Barry truly appreciated wonderful food. In view of the forgettable and, in fact, forgotten menu at Lunar and the reputation of the Full Moon Group’s other places, I found his enthusiasm and knowledge surprising. Barry had traveled widely and had spent a large part of the past year in southern France, in various parts of Italy, and in a few countries in South America. “I went on a culinary tour of Italy that you wouldn’t believe,” he was telling Josh. “Sarka didn’t want to come. She said she grew up having to travel all the time and getting lugged all over the place as a kid by her parents, and she was never touring anything for the rest of her life. So I had to go alone. But the meals I had were phenomenal. Our group visited a handful of cities and ate the regional specialties wherever we went. Same deal in South America. I really wanted to get some ideas for Full Moon’s next location. Obviously, we didn’t get the space we wanted”—he smiled—“but congratulations to you and Gavin. Fair is fair.”
    Josh nodded his thanks. “Gavin got the space. I just hope I can do it justice. Stop in anytime you want, and I’ll show you around. And you should come in on New Year’s for the opening.”
    Barry eagerly accepted Josh’s invitation and took his bored wife off, presumably to listen to obtuse remarks about artwork.
    “Josh?” I looked at him in disbelief. “Why on earth would you invite the competition to your opening?”
    “Look, first of all, this guy, Barry, obviously cares about food. Second, it never hurts to show off. You don’t ever burn any bridges in this business. The Full Moon has money, and you never know what they’ll do in the future, right? How do I know Simmer won’t shut down in six months and leave me without a job? You know Quasar in Kendall Square? Full Moon owned that, and they just closed. Probably because of its crummy location, but even so... you can’t count on anything in this business.”
    Before I could ask Josh why he wanted a potential employer but not a reviewer present on opening night, Naomi interrupted. “Chloe! What are you doing?” I’d forgotten about her. Again. She was looking really irritated with me. For good reason. I did keep disappearing.
    “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I swear I’ll focus from now on.”
    Josh saved me from further groveling. “Oh, my God. I don’t believe it. Are you kidding me?” I looked at him and saw him staring at a young woman standing with Oliver, Dora, Barry, Sarka, and Eliot.
    “Who’s that?” I asked.
    “That’s Hannah,” he answered.
    “Hannah, your old girlfriend Hannah? The one who only liked turkey burgers Hannah?”
    It made no sense to me that Josh had dated someone who cared nothing about food. Josh had told me that she’d never appreciated his cooking and had insisted that he make her turkey burgers all the time for dinner. After they’d been dating for almost a year, Miss Hannah Hicks had announced to Josh that she couldn’t stand the hours he worked and that he’d better find a nine-to-five job if he wanted her to stick around. And that was the end of that.
    “The one and only, Hannah.”

    7. New boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend appearing on big night. Or ever.

FIVE

    HANNAH had straight dark brown hair that hung just below her ears and razor-sharp bangs that cut across her forehead. She was so neat and tidy and put together that I wanted to squash her like a bug. I immediately hated everything about her: her minimal makeup, her tiny frame, and her simple, tailored