short & horrific

Title: The Last Baker [5]
Author: shorthorror
Pairing: Brian Haner & Zachary Baker
Rating: NC-17
Summary: This beautiful asshole just came around and started ruining everything for me. I was the last Baker, and I'd promised my father our name would not die with me.
Disclaimer: I am confident the readers can distinguish between what is real and what is fiction. I need not state the obvious.

Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four



I found it hard to sleep that night. For hours I twisted and turned in my bed, trying to find that position that would allow me to sleep comfortably. But my nerves were erratic and my mind was still jumbled from earlier that day when Brian and I were in the bakery together. He had come up so close to me. So very close. I could almost feel his taut chest against my back once again, feel the air he breathed onto my pale skin. I remembered those cocoa eyes and how they glinted so sexually into mine. It was indeed keeping me up that night.

The next day I went to Milan Verde to open up early. I looked around my restaurant. Took in the fine decor and the round tables. The glasses washed to a shining perfection. The china stacked neatly beneath the receiving window. The floors swept, mopped and polished. All the oil paint depictions of an old Italy dusted. I was at peace with myself. I could feel my zen returning to me.

As I made my way through the kitchen I caught Nancy just coming in. She still had her denim jacket on, which must have meant she had just gotten in. I smiled at the brunette girl.

"Hi Nancy." I greeted her.

"Hello Mr. Baker. You're here kind of early." The girl remarked.

"Yeah, well I needed to be in order to beat you here." I chuckled, to which she did the same.

"How do you like working with Brian? I know he's not Greta, but he's pretty good."

I swallowed hard, shifting my eyes and shrugging. "I don't know. I wish I would have taken Greta's advice and hired you for the job."

Nancy's mouth opened but no sound came out. "Oh, well it's okay. I like being in charge of desserts anyway."

I nodded with my best display of a kind smile. Nancy's eyes strayed to my lips, or rather my lip piercings. People were always taken by the fact that my body was littered with tattoos and my face was pierced up like a pin cushion. But I stood proud to my love for body modification and relished the fact that a misfit like myself managed to become a successful chef with his own restaurant. I felt like I was revolutionizing something. Like making it okay for people that were different to have their own professional careers. But maybe that was just my head in the clouds.

"So Nancy," I began. "I want you to run the house today with Haner. I'm going out to get things for Greta's party. I also have to go to the banquet hall at The Gold Lion and provide a signature for tomorrow. I also have to see about the catering trucks." I listed off.

"Oh it's no problem sir. Leave it to me. You just go do what needs to be done. We all know you're going to do just fine. Greta is going to be so happy." Nancy said with her magazine spread smile.

"Thanks Nancy." I said smilingly. "Oh, and don't be afraid to get firm with Haner. He's a livewire..."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I mean he's a pain in the ass."

She only nodded before I left the kitchen, going for the back door. I felt for my keys and made sure they were in my pocket as I opened the back door. As I stepped out, I came face to face with none other than the infamous Brian Haner. I let out an audible groan to which he leered straight at me.

"Where are you going?" He demanded.

"To run some errands. Nancy is in charge today." I said, attempting to push past him but he held me back with one strong arm.

"I thought I was assistant chef?"

"Good observation Brian!" I said in a mockingly joyful voice loaded with sarcasm.

"Doesn't that make me in charge while you're not around?" He asked with a cock of his brow.

"No. No it doesn't."

Brian frowned. "What happened to you? Yesterday we were getting along so great. And now you're acting like you're usual childish self."

"Whatever. I have shit to do." I said dismissively, walking around him to get to my car.

"Wait, I have a question to ask you." He called out as I opened the driver's side door.

I yelled. "Ask me when I get back."

Brian watched me as I pulled out of the parking lot and sped off. I couldn't help a little snicker that escaped my lips. Sure my hostility was uncalled for, but he had deprived me of sleep and in truth, I didn't know how else to react to him. Was I even thinking when I spoke to him? Or did my words just come up without me noticing? I thought it best to just forget about it today. There were lots of things to do before tomorrow. I had my restaurant being ran by some of the finest cooks Huntington Beach had to offer, my chequebook in my pocket and soon there would be a coffee in my right hand.

The hotel I chose to host the party at was called The Gold Lion. It was a five star little resort off the beach and I knew the owner of the hotel's restaurant. I'd gone to culinary school with him and shared the same dream to have our own food service establishments. I was just thankful mine wasn't in a hotel.

I paid the astronomical rental fee at the hotel and then drove my Beamer to the other side of town to rent some catering equipment and trucks. I asked for one hundred plates, one hundred glasses, a five foot fondue fountain, silverware and white Egyptian cotton linens. When they asked about menu planning I told them that I was making the food, I just needed the trucks to transport all the paraphernalia to The Gold Lion tomorrow at noon. I got a couple of awkward looks, but I was a Baker. They could look at me however they wanted. No way was I going to trust somebody other than myself to cook food for all my closest friends.

Running around town really gave me the time to clear my mind. On my way to the winery I decided to forget all about Brian's discovery about me. I didn't care that I was unusually clean. That's the way I liked it. I also decided to forgive him for the incident yesterday in the bakery. Of course he meant nothing of it. And I thought nothing of it as well.

Ordering the champagne and the wine was among one of my favourite things on my To Do List. I was shown a long menu of fine wines, sparkling cider and champagnes from across the globe. Rosso di Montalcino caught my eye. The pride of Tuscany in all it's red glory. I ordered several bottles of fine Italian imported and also a few bottles of Cristal just to feel successful and accomplished. The Cristal would give the party a splash of American pop culture, since not everyone's parents were from Milan. I paid the bill with slight reluctance and went off on my way again.

By the time I was done renting, paying, choosing and driving to every corner of the city it was five in the afternoon. The sky was golden and the clouds had gone North to hang over a different city somewhere far away. Driving along the highway, I could see the sparkling ocean looking like a great expanse of champagne. The beach was toasted brown and the curving palm trees swayed with the Californian breeze. Though I was proud of my Italian background, I don't think I could ever bring myself to leave my homeland of Orange County. It was too beautiful to ever depart from. I could practically taste the salt of the sea and suddenly, I wished I could be sprawled out on a large towel on the beach. It had been a long time since I allowed myself to me warmed by the blazing sun as I relaxed in the soft sand. Maybe the coming weekend I'd spend at the beach. Even if it had to be alone.

My employees were hard at work when I got back to Milan Verde. Service was going fast but the patrons were coming faster. There was a line up outside of the green doors of people that were in the mood for some fine Italian. I smiled and I could smell my fruition. Every person seated at the tables conversing over a plates of Tiella and Romano Penne were contributing to the success of the last Milan descent Baker.

Look at me now, dad I thought to myself as I looked through the receiving window in the main kitchen. I could imagine the feeling of my dad's strong hand gripping my shoulder proudly. I knew somewhere he had to be watching me. Somehow I had made it on my own without him there by my side. Without his words of wisdom being passed on to me everyday. The only thing I had to thrive on were my memories of him and I when I was a young boy. When he'd take me to the park and though he would never play in his Armani suits, he would observe me with his handsome smile. After the sun started descending he would take me home to our beach house and my mother would have dinner ready and waiting for us. I was always the happiest kid.

I was awoken from my conscious reverie when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and there stood Brian in his white chef's suit.

"Can I speak with you in your office for a second?" He asked calmly.

I shrugged. "Sure I guess. What for?"

"I'll tell you in your office."

With a sigh of lingering reminiscence, I lead Brian through the kitchens and opened the door of my office, switched on the light and sat down in my chair. He took a seat in front of me, cracked his knuckles and smiled.

"Well what is it?" I asked.

"I need you to do me a favour," He began. "I need you to accompany me to The Silver Shell tonight at eight thirty."

My right eyebrow tugged in question. "Um, what?"

He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. "I need you, to accompany me, to The Silver Shell, Tonight. At eight thirty."

"Why?" I asked, confusion apparent in my tone.

"Well you see, working here isn't the only job I have. As I told you before, I write reviews for the paper on newly opened restaurants in Orange County. I'd like for you to come with me to check it out."

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"Well, if you want me to put it that way then yes. I'm asking you on a date." Brian said, smirking at the way I stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm not going on a date with you." I protested.

Brian slapped his hand down on the desk, startling me slightly. "Alright listen. I need you to do this for me. The person I usually go with isn't around anymore and I need another professional opinion. I can't do it on my own."

I laughed. "Brian Haner, not being able to do something by himself. Ha! I hardly believe you."

"I've made reservations for two in the best seats they have. They know who I am and they didn't sound too excited when I made the reservations. No restaurant wants me on their premises." Brian admitted.

"Why's that?" I inquired.

"It's my reviews that can make or break a restaurant. When people feel like going out to dinner and can't make a decision, they take a look in the paper to see which ones have gotten the best response. If I've written an article making fun of a certain diner or cafe or any casual eatery, they take that into consideration." He told me.

I remembered reading one of Brian's articles at the cafe down the street and then pondered momentarily. Go out to dinner with Brian Haner? How could that possibly end? If I went, would I regret it? or would I enjoy myself entirely? When I looked over at him I saw the way his puppy dog eyes pleaded at me.

"There will be free wine." He added.

"What makes you think I like wine?"

Brian's stare narrowed. "You're Italian. Your mother's amniotic fluid was probably Dolcetto."

I glowered at Brian. "My mother was born in California you barbarian!"

"Come on Zachary. Nothing bad is going to happen. It'll just be us, one night. I'll pay."

"No." I stated firmly.

"Please?" He begged me.

This was the first time I ever saw Brian sucking up. Perhaps it would be the only time. I kind of liked him like this, desperate and willing to say anything to persuade me. It was a change from his normal cocky disposition that I was growing accustomed to.

"Why would I want to be seen in public with the world's biggest prick?"

Again, his soft lips turned into a frown. "You know, I'm not that bad. It's hard to compete with you."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Well in case you haven't noticed, you're just as big a prick as I am. You just get extra mad at me because now you're getting it back from somebody who isn't afraid to be honest."

"I-... I am not! Ugh!" I growled.

"See?" Brian smirked.

"God you're such a douchebag!" I exclaimed.

"Will you please come with me? I'll pick you up and drive you home. It'll be a simple little dinner date over some fine wine." Brian pressed on.

"I can't even be in the same room as you without wanting to rip your head off. How am I supposed to be comfortable at a restaurant in front of tons of other people?" I asked him.

"People do it all the time. They go out to dinner with their boss to discuss business, even though they hate their boss and wish they were dead, and put flaming bags of dog shit on their front steps every Saturday night and ring the doorbell. But they go to the damn restaurants and they pretend not to hate the bastard for one night because it's free and beneficial and... fuck! Why are you so goddamn stubborn!?" Brian blew up.

I withdrew into my seat, eyes wide with surprise. Brian had finally lost his cool in front of me. I had succeeded in driving him as nuts as he drove me. For that, I suppose I could take one night off from sitting alone in my house watching reruns of CSI.

"Fine. I'll go. But not because I want to. This is me giving you what you want like always because you're a huge brat. And the only way to satisfy a brat is by giving them what they want."

Brian groaned. "Finally, you realize."

I rolled my eyes at him. "So where is this place anyway?"

"It's about a forty minute drive up the strip." Brian informed me.

"And what kind of shit do they serve?"

"I don't know. Shit, maybe? I've never been there." Brian said with a hint of fatigue in his voice.

I sighed, shaking my head shamefully. "I can't believe I'm going on a stupid date with you."

"Hey," Brian said soothingly. "At least it's a stupid date and not a nice one, right?"

I got home around seven with only an hour to get ready. I cursed under my breath in the shower for allowing myself to get roped in by Brian Haner. A constant grimace was plastered to my face as I got dressed. I decided to wear a white dress shirt underneath a black V neck sweater with a pair of dark jeans. I didn't care if it was a formal restaurant or not, If I was going to deal with Brian Haner's bullshit all night, I would be comfortably dressed doing it. I ran a little gel through my black hair to spruce it up and sprayed on a tiny bit of CK cologne to get the inescapable scent of kitchen grease off of me.

I had spent way too much time working and not enough time indulging myself lately. As I waited for Brian to arrive I decided, rather than being angry and irritable, I'd allow myself to have a good time tonight. I wouldn't be so wound up about going out with him. I would just go to this restaurant and enjoy being cooked for instead of the other way around. Who knows, I asked myself. Maybe the food would taste great and the wine would be delicious and Brian and I could reconcile our differences and become friends.

Brian knocked on my front door exactly at eight o'clock. I slipped on my shoes and pocketed my wallet and keys before opening the door. Brian stood tall on my front porch with a devilish grin on, his hands clasped behind hisback. I winced as I stared into his cocoa eyes.

"Are you wearing eyeliner?" I asked.

"Chyeah." Brian laughed.

"Dear Lord. What has the world come to?"

"You know, I find it incredibly sexist that it's only appropriate for women to wear make up. Guys look good in make up sometimes too."

I shook my head and couldn't help but giggle. Brian wearing eyeliner. I was centuries away from expecting that to ever happen.

"Here." Brian said before thrusting a large bouquet of red roses at me. "I got these for you."

I took hold of the flowers wrapped in shiny paper and then stared up at Brian, absolutely dumbfounded. "I suppose you think it's sexist that it's only appropriate for guys to give girls flowers too?"

He smiled a smile of pearly straight teeth. "You got that right."

I looked down at the blossomed crimson buds of delicate beauty. They indeed were breathtaking, but I didn't see Brian's reasoning behind getting me a bouquet of two dozen roses. I looked up at him with an uneasy smile. "Let me go put these inside then..."

"Okay, I'll meet you in my car." Brian said.

I turned around and went up several steps onto the main flat of my house. I stuck the roses in a vase I had hidden underneath the sink in the kitchen and filled it halfway up with water. I felt incredibly fruity, having just accepted flowers from another dude, but appreciative of the gesture nonetheless. Brian was probably just fucking around with me anyway.

I got into Brian's navy blue Lincoln and readied myself for a night I would have never expected to happen. Now it was happening, and I still didn't know what to expect.