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Gavin was in his midthirties, so I suspected that her crush would remain just that. Furthermore, Gavin already had Leandra. I talked with Isabelle for a bit while she finished with the laundry and then started to help clean the bar.
    The general manager, Wade, nodded his appreciation to Isabelle. “Thanks for your help, Isabelle. We got killed tonight.” His black T-shirt clung to his muscular chest and arms, and a simple silver chain peeked out from under his shirt. He had this weird Ryan Cabrera hair thing going on—lots of long gelled strands puffed out from his head— and he had his usual few days’ growth of facial hair. I’d have put money on it that he spent more time in front of a mirror than I did.
    “How was your dinner tonight, Chloe?” Wade asked as he began going through a mountain of receipts.
    “Excellent, as always.”
    “Good. Josh made us all something to eat before the dinner rush. Did you have that new scallop entrée? God, that was good. Your boy has got talent. I can definitely say that.”
    “I did, and I agree. I loved it.”
    Kevin, one of the bartenders, began cleaning out the taps. I couldn’t help but think what a crappy job it was to clean up at the end of the night. These guys had just spent hours serving wealthy customers and hobnobbing with Boston’s young and elite, and here they were dumping backwash out of glasses and mopping liquor off the rubber mats that lined the floor behind the bar.
    “Wade, could you grab me more tequila, rum, and triple sec? I’m low on everything.” Kevin shook his head and started wiping off bottles. “I can't believe how much we went through tonight.” Wade nodded and disappeared to restock the bar.
    Since restaurants make most of their money from liquor sales, I was delighted to hear that Kevin was running low. With Josh’s food and a little luck, Simmer could soon become a real moneymaker.
    “Ready to go, babe?” Josh came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
    “Yeah.”
    “Hey, Kevin? Do you need anything else before I go?” Josh asked.
    “Nah. Thanks, though. Wade and I can handle this mess. See ya tomorrow.” Kevin waved good night and continued polishing a bottle of Irish whiskey.

THREE

    WHY the hell was my alarm clock going off this early? I reached over Josh to hit the snooze button and accidentally whacked my sleeping chef on the head. He was so overtired that he didn’t flinch. I rolled over to go back to sleep and remembered my promise to Owen. I’d been on the verge of reentering a dream about Donatella Versace and Wentworth Miller, my Prison Break crush. Well, best to wake up from that, anyway.
    I climbed over Josh and fumbled around in my closet to find something to wear. Owen and Ade had crashed at my place so often that Owen wouldn’t expect me to look good at this hour, but I didn’t want to run into any of Simmer’s front-of-the-house staff, who’d all be groomed according to Newbury Street standards, while I was in sweatpants and my hair was sticking out of a big clip. I took a quick shower but didn’t dare wash my hair because I couldn’t be bothered to spend an hour wrangling my curly strawberry blonde mane into smooth locks. My blow-dry from last night had done a good job of flattening itself while I’d slept, and I wasn’t going to undo a good hair day. I tossed on jeans, a white camisole tank, and a cute, pink, fuzzy cropped sweater Ade had temporarily grown out of. My hair had been foiled to within an inch of its life, so I had enough blonde to pull off the pink without blinding anyone. Otherwise, Owen would’ve had to wear sunglasses on our drive over.
    I started up my Saturn Ion, grabbed a couple of coffees at the Dunkin’ Donuts in Cleveland Circle—practically the one Dunkin’ in the entire world that didn’t have a drive-through—and reached Owen’s apartment at six forty-five. I beeped a few times, and Owen bounded down the steps. I immediately noticed his long-sleeved shirt