Luck on the Line Read Online Free Page A

please don’t let this be her new boyfriend.
    “Lucky, meet James. My executive chef.”
    He smiles smugly. Stupid Mr. Smug.
    “Are you sleeping together?” I ask.
    “Lucky!”
    My face is red. James-Jay-Girly-Latte’s green eyes widen.
    “What?” I shrug. “He’s just a little young to be an executive chef is all.”
    Chef James licks his canine and studies me some more but he doesn’t say No . He looks behind us to make sure that no one has overheard, and when he’s satisfied that I haven’t polluted the waters, he turns his attention back to us. “I’m twenty-six. And I’m more than qualified.” Then while my mother’s face is turned, waving at Felicity, he mutters so only I can hear him, “Which is more than I can say for whatever you’re doing here.”
    I really hate Chef James.
    “Lucky, don’t be ridiculous. Forgive my daughter.”
    I hold my hand up. “Don’t worry, I’ll live without your forgiveness.”
    “She hasn’t slept much. Just got back from New York.”
    James cocks an eyebrow. “Go Yankees.”
    “But now she’s here for—” She catches herself, about to say, for her father’s anniversary. Of his accident. The accident that was my fault. “To visit her mother.”
    “How lucky for us,” James says, then he and my mom fall into fit of laughter. They should both sizzle in culinary hell, which is probably a Red Lobster, or a Denny’s.
    “James won his episode of Sliced Champion, Luck,” mom says. “He’s come highly recommended by my colleagues and he understands what I’m trying to do here.”
    “What was your winning dish, hot dog quesadilla?”
    “That’s disgusting.” He barks a laugh. “Clearly the apple fell far from the tree. You’re not allowed in my kitchen.”
    “ Your kitchen?”
    Mom nods. “I’m not the chef, darling. I’m the proprietor. My name with his finesse, it’s a match made in food-heaven.”
    “I might just prefer hell,” I mutter.
    “James, Lucky started out in culinary school before moving on to—well, whatever is the flavor of this semester. Writing? Sewing? I can’t keep track these days.”
    “What happened?” James looks mildly amused, miming a knife across a cutting board. “Get stuck at ‘C is for chiffonade’?”
    That does it. “Okay. So I’m going to get going. Mom, good luck with the pre-taste stuff. James—well…”
    Before I can make it to the exit, her red nails come at me and grip my hands. “Wait. Where are you going?”
    I would lie, but it’s useless. We both know the truth.
    “Really, Lucky, why don’t you stay? You’re already here.”
    I turn my back to James and try to whisper. “You know why I’m home.”
    “Lucky, I’ve watched you bounce from city to city to backwater town. Each time you drop out and come back home.”
    Her words fill my chest with the unhappy question I ask myself every day: What am I going to do now?
    “I came home for Dad.”
    James looks down at the sparkly white tiles, not sure if he should run back to his kitchen or stay and wait for Stella. He digs into his jean pockets and scratches the back of his neck, but avoids getting involved. Smart man.
    My mom lets go of my hand, like my words smacked her. “You came home because you have nowhere else to go.”
    I loop my thumbs on my jeans and make a beeline for the exit. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Chapter 5
    I let the shower run and fill the bathtub half way. I dump in the whole contents of my mom’s overpriced, real French, lavender bubblebath. The bubbles are massive, foam rising up to the top. It’s my favorite smell in the world.
    I sink in and brace against the hot water. My skin prickles in all the good ways. Fuck Food Heaven, this is the real deal.
    I try to clear my head. For too long it’s been full of all the wrong things—majors, bad romances, rent checks, and always the thought: what am I going to do now?
    How can she say those things to me? For years I’ve waited for her—she dumped me in that