Absinthe novel Chapter 58

I couldn't do anything that day except to watch Jiwoo's back as he, Jeremy, and Mowcah headed towards the opposite side of the police station. I tried calling out but Jiwoo ignored me. I also tried going after them, but Faye stopped me from doing that.

And I'm so annoyed that I didn't try harder.

Now, I'm stuck with this heavy mixed feeling of guilt and regret.

Ding!

I unlocked my phone to see a message from Mowcah.

Don't worry, BJ. He's just not in a good mood. I'm sure things will be okay tomorrow.

God, please let Mowcah be correct. Even if she's just 50% correct, I'll be totally fine with that!

And just in case, I need a little something to soften Jiwoo's heart, I'm going to make the perfect set of Paris Brest – the very one that Jiwoo mentioned in his Ka-vogue interview.

It took me three hours to make several batches until I was satisfied with the perfect set to give Jiwoo tomorrow. I plated it and stared at it for a few seconds, admiring my own work. This would surely ensure my apology gets accepted tomorrow.

***

"What's with the chilling atmosphere?" I heard Vivi whispering over to Nico.

I looked sideways just in time to see Nico giving her a shrug.

"He's mad at me for what happened yesterday." I told the two of them so they would stop whispering around. "Now let's focus before Maxwell grills us for not listening."

"This basically concludes your training with me," Maxwell announced. "What's left is for you to hone the techniques you've learned and make it really your very own."

Nico and Vivi started clapping and I followed suit. I noticed that Jiwoo was just quietly staring at Maxwell, doing nothing else.

"But you still have until December to come and complete your stagiaire and complete the new menu we will use to win our third Michelin star! And of course..."

All four of us stared at Maxwell expectantly.

"All four of you will be joining this year's Chef of the Year Selections!"

I had no idea what that was but both Nico and Vivi exchanged overly excited looks. It must be something big.

"On top of the usual prizes, the winner of this year's selection also gets a full three years' worth of scholarship with the best and the most exclusive school of haute cuisine, L'Atalier!"

That was the first time this morning that I saw some hint of emotion in Jiwoo's face.

"And I'm not giving you tips on how to win that," Maxwell continued. "So off you go, make me that 3 Michelin star menu that you promised to make!"

At that, everyone started writing stuff down on their papers. That's the funny thing about us chefs. It seems that we still can't let go of the old-style pen and paper method in creating recipes.

I kept staring at Jiwoo who seemed totally immersed in what he was doing. A few minutes later he stood up and went to the pantry. I also stood up and followed him despite having written nothing on my paper about my planned recipe, bringing my box of Jiwoo's favorite dessert.

At the pantry, Jiwoo was choosing between different species of potatoes, kneeling in front of the root crop section.

"Hey," I called out.

But there was no response.

"Seems like you've already come up with a dish for Maxwell."

Still no response from Jiwoo.

"I brought you some crème puffs. You know, the ones you like."

I opened the box hoping Jiwoo would give it a look, but his face remained focused on the different potatoes at the bottom shelf of the root crop section.

"Jiwoo, I'm sorry."

"What for?"

Finally, a response!

"For calling Rob."

Jiwoo stood up, his basket filled with Russel potatoes, his back still turned on me.

"Rob?" He asked. "Is that how you call Attorney Anderson now?"

"He's a friend from high school," I explained.

"And I'm just the guy in plain white shirt and jeans that gets mistaken for a common criminal."

Jiwoo finally turned to face me and there was nothing but indifference in his eyes. He wasn't angry. He wasn't accusing. He wasn't anything.

Just plain indifferent.

And it scared me.