Home Sweet Home Ch. 08

Tilly ended the phone call after receiving the best news she had gotten in recent memory. Howie's social worker Tabitha had called to inform her the judge approved a visitation. They scheduled it for Wednesday, and Tilly had to get off the phone before Tabitha realized she was crying with joy. After feeling like she was in quicksand, it was a relief to have something resembling progress to push her feet against.

Tabitha called Tilly while she was in the kitchen of Luigi's. It was before opening, and the cooks had only begun food prep, but she had excused herself to take the call. Once it was over, she needed an extra minute to collect herself next to the back door. Emotion swelled inside of her, but she tried her best to contain it before it burst in full view of her coworkers.

The backdoor opened, and she turned to the man who stepped out. It was her boss, the sous chef Jae-sung Rhee, but he went by Jason. He was an American born Korean in his mid-thirties. He was also the second shortest person in the kitchen, having been promoted from shortest when Tilly started a few short weeks ago. His dark hair was maintained short after he had burned off his bangs one too many times.

Tilly's primary concern with asking the owner William Hartman for a job was that no one would ever take her seriously because her parents co-own the restaurant with him. She was afraid she'd be construed as a nepotistic little girl still living off her parent's good graces. While it was apparent some of the staff did feel that way in the beginning, her work ethic, cooking skill, and kitchen etiquette won over her doubters. She wasn't even the only member of the kitchen staff with a criminal record.

Jason was one of her doubters. A veteran of many kitchens for nearly two decades on three continents. He had worked every job there was to work in the food service industry, from busboy to head chef. Starting in America before backpacking through Europe and Asia for inspiration. During those years he supported himself in kitchens for pennies or room and board. He would be damned if someone got a job by pulling strings in his kitchen.

Tilly's first two weeks were hell. He made sure of it. Tilly never gave him the satisfaction by displaying her stress. Every menial task she was given, she replied with Yes Chef.

Take out the trash. Yes Chef. Clean the dishes. Yes Chef. Sweep. Mop. Wipe. Clean. Sanitize. Yes Chef. Tilly knew she had earned a begrudged respect from the man when the orders went from cleaning to actual cooking. The first dinner rush where he gave permission for her to cook, she seemed to be the only staff member who didn't appear to be even momentarily overwhelmed.

Last Saturday dinner rush when the staff had finished cleaning their stations, he was about to leave when he heard the collision of dishes and water running. Tilly offered to stay to finish the overflow dishes since the washer was sick. Jason hung his apron on the hook, rolled his sleeves to his elbows, and dunked his hands in the suds with her.

Tilly had never told anyone on the staff about Howie. About the trouble she was in, and her attempts to claw her way out of it. That was her problem, and she felt mentioning it would be a cheap ploy for sympathy and some slack she hadn't earned. Slack she didn't deserve. Jason washed dishes and let her talk. They finished the dishes, and kept talking past midnight at the table next to the kitchen.

Jason had a daughter he hadn't seen in years. When she was born, he ran away from the responsibility of being her father. As much as he was traveling Asia for his work, it was running away all the same. By the time he realized how grave his mistake was, she was already fifteen and wanted nothing to do with him. All his efforts to form a relationship with her was too little, too late. Tilly went home that night with something he said resting softly in her mind.

"I did everything I could to not be a parent while everyone was literally handing me the chance to do the right thing. You're doing everything to prove you deserve the chance I ran away from."

Jason was still a son of bitch at work. That never changed. But after that night, it felt like his orders were followed by a wink, and she said Yes Chef with a small grin.

"That about your kid?" Jason asked after stepping outside. Tilly nodded rapidly, then slowed herself down. "Feel free to get excited about good news. Just checking on you, we're about to go over the specials tonight."

"Yes Chef."

"We're not in a kitchen right now, it's just Jason," he said. Tilly knew when the kitchen was cooking, he was not Jason. She wanted to enjoy him being a human being. The moment it was work he was the devil.

"I'll be right in," Tilly said. Jason nodded and let her be. Tilly took in a deep breath, tucked her phone into her back pocket, and went back to work.

--

Riley woke up with his body wrapped over the armrest of the chair he had foolishly allowed himself to fall asleep on. His back would make him pay for that later. He gently pulled himself up with the opposite armrest and flexed his hips forward and shoulders back to gauge how bad the day would be. The small pop from his lower spine told him some Advil would make it bearable.

"Sleeping beauty awakes," said a voice from behind him. He tilted his head over his shoulder and saw Aaron Westland sitting at the bar counter of the executive suite's full kitchen. His long hair was still damp from a shower. He was sipping a cup of coffee while Grace and her mother Jenna were already hard at work making breakfast. Someone must have gone shopping because there wasn't any food in the suite.

"You know the hotel has complimentary breakfast," Riley said. He pushed himself to his feet and leaned his torso forward to allow physics to propel him to the bar.

"Gracie insisted," Jenna said, and kissed the little girl on the top of her head. It smelled like pancakes and sounded like bacon. They kept their distance from the pop and sizzle.

"Good morning Mr. Blake. Coffee or tea?" Grace asked. Her mother had moved an ottoman from the bedroom so her daughter could reach the induction stovetop.

"Coffee," Riley said. He sat next to Aaron, who slid his phone across the counter.

"Check it out," Aaron said. Riley looked at the screen and saw an article about their show last night. Netflix had already released an official statement saying Aaron was already in negations and the Instagram stream was planned to measure the audience reaction. That wasn't true, but they did succeed in forcing them into a position.

"My agent threatened to drop me this morning," Aaron said with a laugh. "Until Netflix called him. Got offered twenty percent over my usually salary, which means when we counteroffer, we'll land somewhere between thirty and forty percent over."

"Nice," Riley said. Jenna placed a cup of coffee in front of Riley, and then inquired about cream and sugar. Black was fine, so he tapped his cup to Aaron's and took his first drink of the day.

"I don't know if my ego can handle Grace acting circles around me for the next two years," Aaron said. Grace peered over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. "I bet you can quote Shakespeare from memory."

"Depends on the play," Grace said.

"Midsummer?" Riley asked.

"Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightning in the collied night," Grace said, her body swaying as she spoke.

"Romeo and Juliet," Aaron said.

"Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs," she said, motioning her hands over the smoke from cooked bacon, and flinching back when a pop startled her. "Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes. Being vexed a seas nourished with loving tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet. A choking gall, and a preserving sweet."

"I was expecting where art thou Romeo, but okay," Aaron said, surrendering to his artistic superior.

Riley searched his pocket for his phone but didn't feel it. He walked back to the chair and found it pushed into the gap between the cushion and the armrest. Three missed calls and ten messages split between the showrunner Alvin Sinclair and Debra.

"Finally," Debra said when he returned the call. "Netflix is pissed, but they got over it. They'll approve the casting of Aaron as Timothy Augustine with Grace as the Little Maiden. We lock down Theodora and Michelle Frost, and we have a primary cast."

"Why do I feel like there is a big but in there," Riley said. Her tone left the impression she had more to say that he wouldn't like.

"They want to scrap any filming on location in Florida and Massachusetts. Georgia only for principal photography. I know that was one of your requirements, but I think they're only playing hardball. I talked to Alvin, and he says he can get at least Florida back on the table with some clever accounting. Pennsylvania might be harder, but..."

"...just take the deal," Riley said. Debra stuttered as she started to reply, then stopped entirely. Riley had held firm on that for months. "We can't punch them in the face then ask them back to a table. I can't get everything I want."

"Is Riley Blake making my job easier for once?" Debra asked with a hint of humor.

"Don't get used to it," Riley said, and Debra laughed. "Aaron almost lost his agent this morning. I just appreciate having one who is still willing to be in my corner."

"You appreciate me?" Debra asked.

"Bye," Riley said playfully before ending that call and then calling Alvin back.

"You got some brass balls," Alvin said before any salutations.

"They clank when I walk too," Riley said, the two sharing a laugh. "Sorry for not giving you a heads up."

"Can't complain with the results. I know you've had a stick up your ass about location, but Netflix will be more pliable if you're okay with not filming in Florida and Massachusetts."

"I just got off the phone with Debra. I'll budge," he said, much to Alvin's quiet delight.

"Just Georgia?" Alvin asked, and Riley confirmed. "Good to hear. One of the other producers said that could save upwards to two mil."

"Why does it cost that much?" Riley asked.

"Different states, different laws, different taxes, different rebates. We'd have to move an entire cast and crew and put them in hotels. Moving equipment costs money. Filming permits," Alvin rattled out, and Riley understood how little he knew about the industry he just cannonballed into.

"How far away are we from getting some actors on contract?" Riley asked.

"Days. I got a flight scheduled back to LA, I'll get in late tonight. We still have a few hopefuls for the other primaries, so we'll see who works the best with Aaron and Grace figuring those two are pretty much done deals."

"See you tomorrow then," Riley said, and hung up.

"Good news?" Jenna asked.

"We had to compromise a little due to our little stunt, but the show is back on the rails," Riley said. Jenna hugged her daughter in celebration, and Aaron chuckled some at their display of affection.

Riley thanked them for the coffee and left the bar to find some Advil.

--

"Today is the first day of the confirmation hearing for the appointment of David Fitzgerald to the office of Chief of Police for the village of Ferry Grove," said Ethan Drake, the Chairman of the City Council. "Each member of the council has ten minutes to ask the candidate questions regarding his professional qualifications, and anything they deem relevant to the proceedings. We will start with Councilmember Peter Bruce, and work across the table. Before we begin, the candidate also has ten minutes to make an opening statement. Your time begins now."

The city council chambers were essentially empty aside from one local journalist and a few elderly citizens who had invested in local politics as a retirement hobby. It had long annoyed Ethan Drake how few people showed up for critical local government decisions but would later complain about those decisions.

David Fitzgerald sat in his dress blues, his shoulders square, fully upright to maximize his height as positive optics. The man did look good in his uniform, no one could deny that.

"Thank you, Chairman Drake. I'm honored, and humbled, to be nominated and considered for this great responsibility," David began. His speech pattern flowed smoothly with no verbal fillers like 'um' or 'uh'. His voice was deceivingly deep for his thin frame, but crisp with excellent articulation.

"I should begin by addressing the elephant in the room. That being I'm not from Ferry Grove. I've known people from Ferry Grove. Conducted joint training operations and resources with Ferry Grove Police Department, so I will say I'm not entirely ignorant of its unique identity. I've attended many football games where the Ferry Grove High School Spartans flattened my McCombie Warriors," he said, garnering him a few chuckles, "but was always impressed at the dedication of its fans and the support the team receives from the community at large. There really isn't an empty seat in those stands, and the pep squad knows how to bring the audience to their feet.

"Ferry Grove's charitable contributions dwarf the rest of the county, in raw dollars, hours, and literal blood. This is a giving community. A welcoming community, and regardless of the result of this hearing, I'll always remember being welcomed into it.

"Regarding my professional history, I've been involved in law enforcement for essentially my entire adult life. It's been my privilege to serve my community for thirty years, and I'd be blessed to serve a little longer. Regarding my qualifications, I'll leave that to the questions of the council. I yield my time."

Ethan looked to his left and right at the faces of his council and saw them smiling and nodded to David's statement. David had hooked them hard. Councilman Peter Bruce began his time for questions, and David answered with the same level of competence and verbal fluidity.

The next councilmember provided situational based questions. How would he handle a protest? A school shooting? His responses were acceptable to the council, but the final question was more biting.

"How would you handle a credible accusation of sexual harassment or assault in your department?"

"Firstly, every claim of sexual assault or harassment should be thoroughly investigated, independently from the department. We will naturally have a bias regarding our own employees. All efforts will be made to protect the identity of the accuser, and the accused."

"What would happen to the accused during the investigation? Is he suspended?"

"Any officer under an investigation is automatically on paid leave, regardless of the nature of the investigation. Pardon my slight diversion, but I take some offense with your gendering of that question. Is he suspended, creates an outdated perception that all accused are male, and all accusers are female. Men can be victims, and women can be victimizers, and I will not distort an investigation with preconceptions of that kind."

The council continued, the fifth asking questions about important arrests made in his jurisdiction that made headlines. Fitzgerald admitted to mistakes that were made in the course of those cases, and thoroughly explained lessons learned and policy changes they influenced.

"Every case is a learning opportunity. We can't allow our public servants to lean back on old cliches like 'that's the way it's always been' or 'that's the way we've always done it'. It prevents needed change, encourages stagnation, and erodes public trust. We need dynamic leaders who learn, certainly reactively, but also who have the courage to be proactive as well."

The last councilmember finished his time, and it returned to Ethan. He had to admit, on paper and in person, David Fitzgerald was impressive. He also knew it was a façade. He wasn't a compassionate man who championed public service and sacrifice; he just played one on television. David Fitzgerald was a serial sexual harasser who abused his authority. How absolutely full of it he was regarding sexual assault tickled Ethan so much he barely managed to contain himself.

"That concludes today's portion of the confirmation hearing. Tomorrow the forum will be open to members of the community to ask the candidate questions. Does any council member, or the candidate, wish to make any closing remarks?" Ethan asked. He looked to his left and right, receiving simple headshakes, then turned his attention to David Fitzgerald who also had no further comments. "Meeting adjourned. We will reconvene tomorrow at eleven in the morning for the public questions. Pending any complications, the confirmation vote will occur next week on Monday."

--

Diana received a discrete message from Ronald Larson that he managed to come through on her request. It was anonymously dropped off at the offices of the Northwest Herald, and the story would likely appear tomorrow morning. Just in time for the public questions.

The idea of publicly executing the reputation of David Fitzgerald excited her beyond words. What she didn't enjoy, was the way she had to play it. She was playing by his rules, not her own. The moment she accepted his tactics, she legitimized them, and that part of the ordeal was a splinter in her eye. David Fitzgerald certainly deserved to be destroyed by his own game, but it would have been much more satisfying to see him torn apart by an honorable attack.

Diana didn't attend the first day of the confirmation, but she planned on reading the transcript when it arrived on her desk. For the meantime, she read through her message traffic, approved or denied overtime, approved the patrol schedule, and copied and pasted her reply to people's cars being towed behind the bakery, again. With pressing work matters complete, she took her lunch from her minifridge and ate while reading the news.

"Chief," Staff Sergeant Gerald Hopper said from her door. "Your boyfriend is in the news."

Diana typed Riley's name into a search engine and read about what he had been up to. Diana didn't have an Instagram, but read about the impromptu script read with his lead actors. Netflix was saying Aaron Westland was already in talks prior, and how this was a test run for audience engagement. Grace Weatherby was uncontested for the role, and the production was moving forward.

From what Riley had already told her, she knew Netflix was against the casting of Aaron Westland, so their claim he was already sought after was damage control after Riley pulled them to the negotiation table kicking and screaming. Riley had also done something underhanded to get what he wanted, but it had worked out in the end. Better than he hoped in fact. It gave her a little confidence the same would happen for her.

--

On his second day in LA, Riley exited the car Debra had arranged to drive him to the production office. She had taken a flight herself and planned to meet him there. The production office for the show was established in LA but was planning to relocate to Georgia in the near future. It was housed on the tenth floor of an LA skyscraper, beneath a law firm and above an accounting office. When you stepped off the elevator, the placard stated it was for the production of Dance with the Devil, a fake title also on all of the scripts to avoid leaks.

Riley stepped off the elevator and was immediately greeted by Debra taking a phone call. The moment she saw him, she apologized and hung up.

"Grace and Aaron are already in there. Gonna be a long day seeing who works the best with those two. Your short list for the other roles are here too," Debrea said.

Debra pointed down the hall to a line of women going over their lines to read for Theodora and Michelle. Several women looked up from their scripts, and Riley gave a small wave when he noticed some of them recognized him as the person who held their careers in his hands.