Turn up the Heat

are meeting us there, but they won’t be free until ten. How ’bout I pick you up at quarter of?” Digger and Lefty, whose real names I didn’t even know, were both chefs. I was beginning to wonder whether the culinary industry had some peculiar regulation that required chefs to use pseudonyms. If so, Josh must have been granted a special exemption.
    “Sounds good. That’ll give me time to finish this stupid paper I have to write. And remind me to give you the flyers I have for you to pass out at Simmer.”
    “Flyers for what?” he wondered aloud.
    “Nothing. Gotta run. I’ll see you tonight!”
    “Wait! I don’t like the sound of this. What are these flyers about?” Josh laughed.
    “You’ll see.” The less time I gave Josh to protest his assignment, the better.

NINE

    JOSH parked his Xterra in the underground garage at the Prudential. As we rode the elevator up what seemed like four hundred floors to Top of the Hub, I gazed at my boyfriend. I was unused to seeing him out of his chef’s clothes. Well, I mean, I always enjoyed seeing him out of his chefs clothes, but tonight he actually had on regular people clothing. He was looking very handsome in his clean, stain-free ivory T-shirt and army green cargo pants. Josh was about as dressed up as he ever got.
    “What are you smiling at?” Josh asked, wrapping his arm around me and kissing the top of my head.
    The elevator doors opened. I didn’t answer until we were waiting by the hostess stand near the bar. “I’m smiling at you. You look really good. And rested.” Although he still had bags under his eyes, he looked better than he had in weeks. I could hardly believe that we were having a night out. I didn’t even remember the last time we’d gone out anywhere together. I tried not to remember that our good luck was the result of Leandra’s murder, which was the only reason that Simmer was closed tonight.
    Josh nodded. “Well, I took a four-hour nap this afternoon, but I’m still missing weeks of sleep. You’re not looking so bad yourself, kiddo.”
    I was glad that even in his exhausted state, he noticed my appearance. In getting ready to go out, I’d taken more time than usual. I had on a totally cute ivory baby doll dress with slight scrunching at the hems—another loan from Adrianna. I was pushing the arrival of warm weather, so I’d thrown on a cozy cashmere cardigan, also from Ade, to keep me from freezing.
    The host seated us at a corner table and gave us menus. There was a Top of the Hub Tasting Menu and a Chef’s Tasting Menu, both of which looked phenomenal and could be ordered with the recommended wines. I scanned through those and the regular menu, salivating at the descriptions. A bunch jumped out at me:

    Sautéed Foie Gras
    Peach Compote, Brioche Toast

    Native Lobster and Avocado Citrus Salad
    Dill Oil, Fresh Tarragon Vinaigrette

    Crispy Calamari
    Asian Slaw and Roasted Pineapple Dressing

    Jonah and Lump Crabmeat Cake
    Avocado Cream , Crispy Plantains, Corn Salad

    Pan-Seared Scallops
    Orange fennel Salad, Potato Galette, Chorizo Emulsion

    Hazelnut Crusted Salmon
    Apple Celery Root Salad, Sweet Potato Puree, Apple Gastrique

    Adobo Rubbed Grilled Center Cut Pork Chop
    Creamy Masa, Tomatillo Cream

    Apple gastrique? Whatever it was, it sounded delicious.
    “Chloe? Are you still with me?” Josh sat across from me and was nudging my menu with his.
    I had spaced out while studying the menu. “What? Oh, yeah. I’m here. It’s just that the food looks so incredible.”
    Josh cleared his throat. “Okay, I’m feeling a little jealous here. Now, Porcaro’s a good chef and all, but don’t forget about me,” he said teasingly. Then he hid behind the menu.
    “I don’t love you just for your food, you know.” I looked at him seriously. “Although it helps.”
    Josh peeked out at me from behind the menu. “I’m going to have Porcaro send out hot dogs if you don’t watch yourself.”
    “You have nothing to worry about, and you know it. Oh, Digger and Lefty are here.” I pointed to his friends, who were walking toward us. The three chefs had worked together a few years earlier at a now-defunct restaurant. They’d stayed in touch mainly by leaving one another voice mails. It was a rare occasion when their schedules let them get together in person.
    Digger was the executive chef at a small but fabulous one-year-old tapas restaurant in the South End, where Lefty was his sous chef. Both of them looked as tired as