CHAPTER TWO
Mystic Grills is a city to love with all its beautiful scenery. Everywhere you turn, there is always something amusing to see. From themed parks to romantic restaurants, historical places, museums, theatres, the county has them all. You could lose yourself if you wanted to in this city. The city is also laden with hidden talents and goofiness if you give it a try. If there was anything to love about the Grills, it is that it encourages growth.
The city where people are given plenty of room to reinvent themselves. This great city did more than that. It housed everyone; the people with skeletons in their closet looking to hide away, the criminals with sordid past looking for another chance to start afresh. Yes, Mystic Grills was the city to go to for a totally fresh start.
It has been said that in the Grills, everyone has a secret. Everyone wants something. So, don't be deceived by overly nice people. If it's too good to be real, then it probably is. Everyone looked out for themselves. But the residents all have a common goal; to have a better future. For people like Peterson McGuire, a werewolf who had made a living in this city. His identity? Never ones compromised.
A few lessons could be learned from this business tycoon. For one, everyone assumed he had come into vast money because he worked hard. Well, indeed, he worked hard. But it's not even what you'd imagine. Being a werewolf had its spec. You get to live longer than the average human.
Peterson didn't start as a successful man. As a matter of fact, he was one of the poorest werewolves in Georgia before he found himself in Seattle. The young man worked his butt off by trading information to get some petty change. And when he hit on big gist, he knew just how to collect.
Steadily, he amassed quite an amount of wealth. He never knew his parents. For all he cared, they were bastards who gave birth to something they couldn't take care of. He suspected his mother had been forced to have him out of no choice. That his father abandoned her. And she, in turn, abandoned him.
This was a story he told himself. The story he stuck to. Either that, or he was forced to face the horrible truth behind his childhood.
The story has it that his mother was a promiscuous wolf. One who her mate had rejected. She took to any wolf who looked her way to make up for the shame. When she was with child, the rejected wolf didn't know whose child she carried. So, she left her clan and went into the western side of the coastline.
It was there that she found a clan in Georgia and pleaded to be allowed in. Oh, she worked her butt off until it weakened her body. Peterson's birth was her death. She had given birth in the comfort of her home, to her detriment.
A kind neighbour picked up the young wolf and raised him as his. But the man was mean and wicked. At twelve, Peterson knew he'd be better off without that family. It was either that, or he would die before he could turn. And heavens knew he desperately wanted to be a wolf. He wanted the power that being a werewolf would afford him.
That was what kept him alive. The hope that he would one day not be a weak human at the mercy of everyone.
If he thought being a wolf would change things, the young wolf had no idea what he was in for. Because not only would he realize the power he sort for wasn't there, he was mistaken. His crazy notion of the werewolf was stuck on stories he heard or read about. There was nobody to explain what really happened in detail.
He was just a scrawny little boy going through life with misconception. At least for one, he wasn't prepared for the pain of turning the first few times. Neither was he ready for some authoritative voices intruding on his privacy. And the smell, oh, that was a back breaker. He could smell anything literally.
Eventually, Peterson learned as he grew. He learned the hard way, experience. And yes, he learned a lot. Life seemed bent on giving him hardcore lessons. But when he was done taking shit from life, he found his bearing.
He has remained at the top of his game ever since. This was why he laughed whenever he saw pesky humans being at loggerhead with him over something trivial. If only they knew. He was a patient man with a painful experience.
He had seen it all. He was a man borne out of years of pain. His brutal silence was something that made people cringe.
Over the years, everyone came to form a varying opinions about the restaurant owner. Some claimed he was so damn good at it because he came from a family of chefs. That always amuses the man. How the hell was cooking skills heritable? He never even met his family. Cooking was just some odd habit he picked up while growing up. And since he had the added advantage of being a werewolf, he used that to his gain.
After all, everyone, even wolves, love a good meal.
A few believed that Peter came into wealth because of his rich parents. How wrong! Staring out of the window, hands deep in his pocket, Peterson watched the city with interest. This city was packed full of memories. Some good. Some bad. But he loved the city anyway. The Grills had given him what he couldn't get in a long while; home. A knock on his door made him turn around. "Come in." His secretary's head popped through the opening. Shaking his head, he waved her in.
"Mr Dave is insisting you pick your call, sir. Said it's urgent."
Peterson stared at his phone. "I didn't know…." he had been so lost in thought that he didn't pay attention to the phone. Picking it up, he sighed. "I put it on silence." He informed the lady.
"Please reach out to him. I haven't had a day's rest from him."
"Okay, thank you, Beth. Anything else?"
"No. That will be all," she assured him. And knowing that was her cue to leave, she walked a few paces backward. And she was out. Gently, she closed the door behind her.
Peterson waited until She was seated.
His wolf sense could pick out her movement outside. "You suppose we could give the minister some audience?" he asked his wolf. Dave was a promising young man who had been unfortunate enough to fall in Peter's lair.
He was soon going to find out he had made a mistake. He didn't get here by ignoring certain rules. He wasn't about to let anyone drag him down. Favours didn't get him here. Neither would it take him down. This was why whenever he picked up an applicant's form, he looked carefully. If it looked like he'd be granting any favour, he simply dropped it.
"Dave?" he said into the phone when the a man called again.
"To what do I owe this call?"
"You've been ignoring my calls," the man yelled over the phone. "We have to meet."
"I believe you don't have the right to order me around, Mr Minister." He snickered as the man on the other end of the phone gave a shaky laugh. He could hear him taking deep breathes, trying to stay calm. His wolf sighed in irritation. Oh, calm wouldn't get you out of my clutches.
"What do you want?"
Peterson laughed, "I have what I want. I just want you to make sure it stays that way."
"How am I to stop the government's approved plan? You should have done your findings before building that freaky restaurant."
"Watch it, Dave. Do the needful. Tell everyone the land is useless for the plan or something. Fake something. It's not your first."
"But I…."
Cutting off his excuses, Peterson snarled, "That or I release all these files I've got here, Dave." He threatened.
"Okay, okay," Dave agreed hesitantly, "I'll do all I can."
"That would be great," he said, cutting off the man again. He shut his phone and tossed it aside. "Government freaking plans", he hissed. The man was becoming a pain in the ass. He might need to dispose off him or find a better replacement. He didn't imagine anyone would want him closing down something so lovely for the people. Determined not to be stopped, he looked at the tone of work on his desk with renewed strength. Let's do this again, shall we?
Today, he would be going through the list of chefs. He will be selecting the best for his restaurant's launch next weekend. He had a good eye for chefs who knew what they could offer. From the letterings and wordings, you could decipher them all. Ambitious, callous, calm, brave, scarecrow, useless elves. All of them. Their papers always reeked of who they are, if not their words. Peter carefully selected the ones he needed out. The ones he discarded never qualified, both in paper and in the real world.
Rumour has it that whoever Peterson McGuire didn't vet could never make it as a chef in Seattle. Wherever that came from, he scoffed excitedly. Another knock on his door made him look up from his work. "Come in, Beth."
"Here's a list of the items you wanted." Said the secretary to her boss. She walked towards him, holding out the folder.
Peterson didn't take the folder. He merely nodded on his desk. "Leave it," he said.
She dropped the folder on his table and stepped back.
Peterson looked at the file before nodding to his secretary that he would take it from there. She curtsied and went out. He didn't check the items. First, the chefs must be selected. A good restaurant thrives only when the chef was superb. Going back to the selection, he stared at the list slowly.
The first page held a list of all the chefs who applied. That was the first thing he checked out. For a while now, he had been looking out for a name. The name had appeared on his table years back. But then, the applicant lacked what he wanted. She had kept applying, calling out to him. Yet, seeing nothing impressive in how she composed herself, he ignored her. However, her last application letter hit him. Now, she was 95% close. He needed just the little to make her fit and qualified for his vetting. "Ava Davis." He said the name out just as Beth walked into his office.
"Oh, she's a great chef. She works at CHOPPERs."
"What?" asked Peterson. CHOPPERS was a local diner. He didn't expect a chef like Ava in such a place. She sounded more promising. What was she doing there wasting away? "She works where now?" he asked his secretary again, sure he had heard wrong.
"CHOPPERS," Beth repeated. "She's outstanding. Her meals are always well cooked, tasty and the best. She's the best in the Grills."
"If she is, why is she at that local restaurant?"
"Well, you could help…."
"Beth, you're dismissed." He told his secretary. She didn't leave. His roving eyes landed on her face. She looked away like she always did whenever she was deliberately defying him. The middle-aged lady had worked with him for years. She was almost family. Almost!
"Boss, she's good," said Beth, stubbornly refusing to yield. She, like many Mystic Grill's residents, wouldn't hear of it. How could her boss not know the best chef in town? She was a die-hard fan of the lady. Any chance to tell the world how great she is wouldn't be missed. "Okay, tonight, she's making a special delicacy. The restaurant is going to be packed full. How about you go there and have a taste?"
Peterson threw his head back and laughed. "That diner?" he snorted as he dismissed his secretary. She left only after adding a few meals she had enjoyed. Then she had insisted he should see things for himself tonight. When she left, Peter told himself bluntly that he wasn't going. But he couldn't shake off the interest he had taken in the chef. His wolf stirred awake when he stood. He stretched lazily. Food wasn't a thing his wolf fancied. And with good reasons. The only food that appealed to wolves was meat. Especially raw ones. Anything for the taste and smell of blood. We are going there, ain't we?
He replied to his wolf casually, "I believe we are."
Boring! said the wolf and went back to sleep. His disinterest was loud and clear.
That night, he decided to put a face to the lady he knew only in paper. He went to the local restaurant to see things for himself. He got in just in time to see the lady coming off the kitchen. Why does she look so much like Tiara? His wolf, who had gone back to sleep stretched lazily. When he saw the chef too, he paused in midstride, watching with mouth wide opened, saliva dripping out. No, no…. this isn't right. Who is she? A descendant?
Peterson had stayed long enough to get a good view. She wasn't Tiara. He wondered if Lucian knew about this strange being. The shock of the chef's face had made him leave the diner. He didn't get to taste her meal which Beth kept talking about. The instant he was out, he had called his head security man, Dwayne. "I need all the information you can get on Ava Davis."
Ever since that night, he had been hoping she would apply again. This time, if she did, he was sure going to pick her. He needed to know more about that woman. Peterson closed the list and got up. "Did she give up already?" he sighed with disapproval seeing nothing close to the name. He couldn't blame her. A lot of applicants had gone through the scrutiny and dropped out too. But this lady had his respect. She was excellent and determined. He could smell the determination in her words. Somehow though, she seemed to have dropped out of the race. And from what he saw at that diner the other day, she shouldn't drop her. She was going to be one of Seattle's finest chefs. And he was going to have her. Taking deep breaths, he began the rigorous process. He would be selecting the best chef for his new restaurant. Pushing aside every thought of Ava Davis, he faced his business.