Untitled Novel Excerpt 1 by Kate Valentine
Nina could always smell every little thing. But in July, Cincinnati more than met her halfway. When the wind blew from the south, she could smell the musk of lion cages at the zoo. From the north, she could smell the smoke of tobacco and marijuana from the Greenwich Jazz Club and company. From the east, wafted the hot dog water from the stadium; and from the west, the aroma of the pine needles in the state park.
At some point around the 4th of July heatwave, she had given up on wearing clothing all together, and now paint covered nearly every inch of her body from the flecks in her hair to the blobs of vermillion on her toes. Living alone in her studio meant that she could paint whenever she wanted. This evening, she was several hours into what she hoped was the final pass on a large painting currently titled Graminivorous.
Just then the buzzer rang. Delivery. She ate like a she-lion, waiting until she was ravenous before seeking out food and then devouring her prey with abandoned glee. On the menu for tonight: sushi. She lurched for her white lab coat hanging on a hook in the kitchen next to the door.
She buzzed in the delivery guy and rifled through her purse for her credit card. If the delivery dude judged her for her apartment tsunami he hid it well. She figured a delivery person must see a lot of unkempt living situations. She was on a budget, but she didn’t cook and couldn’t bring herself to scrimp on food. She could deny herself sleep and sex but not nourishment.
She looked around for a free spot to sit. Finding none, she hurled all the detritus off her bed in one fell swoop. She placed her food on a tray and sat down in front of it, crisscross applesauce.
She opened her takeout boxes ritualistically and took her own set of chopsticks out of a metal box and began screwing them together. Each piece of food was lovingly examined then sniffed. Tonight was basic: some miso soup, shrimp shumai, and a dragon roll. Nina closed her eyes as she apprehended the tastes on her tongue -- the snap of the ginger, the salty warmth of umami.
Untitled Novel Excerpt 2 by Kate Valentine
Bruno Buonacuore stood on his balcony and gazed at the view, the master of all that he surveyed. Below stood his restaurant, El Toro, jutting majestically from the beautiful craggy rocks of Calabria overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. It was the gastronomic mecca. Stars, presidents, royalty, and billionaires all longed to sample the exquisite food of El Toro, an establishment that had garnered an unheard of 3 Michelin stars. The one and only person who could claim credit for all of this unalloyed success was Buonacuore himself.
“Viola. Vi-O-La!” howled Bruno. “Dove sei?”
Unless you counted Viola, who was Buonacoure’s right, and arguably left hand. Viola promptly opened the window in the kitchen.
“Chef?”
“I must speak to you, Viola! Now!”
Calabria was beautiful, El Toro was beautiful, and Bruno was no slouch himself. At 60, he had accomplished -- and even exceeded -- his wildest dreams. He wore his status jauntily, like a hat rakishly tipped to one side. He was a powerful man both physically and in station. Yet he did not use his power to intimidate, but as a tool to encourage others; like a shepherd with his flock.
Unless you counted Viola as one of his so-called “flock”. Viola had worked for Buonacuore since she was twenty. Now she was forty. She had worked her way up from dishwasher to busser to sou chef to second in command. She dried her hands on her apron and soldiered outside to have an earful of the latest drama.
Viola faced Bruno and lit a cigarette. What’s happened now, she wondered. Did he get one of the summer staffers pregnant? Again?