I’ve been working on this first chapter on a book, you dont have to read the WHOLE thing but if you’d read some and critique I’d be so thankful. I’m just wondering if its good enough for a literary agent to read and enjoy, thank you!
A not so Happy Fathers Day
Ch 1
"Happy Fathers Day Mr. Whitlock," the Sous Chef of Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse greeted personally.
Kent looked up only with his dark green eyes to give his response to the world renowned chef. "Chateau Margaux 1995," Kent ordered flawlessly.
"Of course, I remember your father ordering that. Would you like anything to-,"
"Just the drink," Kent cut him off forcefully.
"Right," he nodded.
Kent gazed around the room, and as usual everyone was staring at him. He was used to this type of attention but certainly didn’t enjoy it. His father Kenneth Whitlock used to be the most prestigious real estate tycoon in Los Angeles. He designed and built several Hollywood homes, many of which were custom made for celebrities.
With Kenneth’s photo posted all over Hollywood, the Whitlock family had become something of celebrities themselves. If Kent ever made a rare appearance in a Hollywood night club or restaurant, it would be on the front page of the newspaper the next day. His male model looks didn’t seem to hurt either.
Kent loosened his Hugo Boss white tie a little bit to take some of the edge off of the eyes beginning to pierce through him. Couldn’t they stare at something else? Normally it didn’t faze him one bit, but he knew they weren’t just staring because of his presence there.
About a month ago Kenneth Whitlock had a heart attack and passed away unexpectedly. He was only fifty two years old and had left his son with everything, which was more of a burden than it seemed. While Kent was quite knowledgeable in real estate, the business of running the company his father built from the ground was a lot of pressure for a twenty four year old that had never worked a day in his life. Losing his father had left him numb and regretful, and today on Fathers Day he wanted to somehow reconcile with himself by dining at his dads favorite restaurant, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect.
Kent realized that by coming here alone on Fathers Day he was just torturing himself, and all he wanted to do now was immerse himself in the light-weight black cherry flavor of the wine he was now impatiently waiting for. Finally, for what seemed like hours, the waitress arrived. In attempt to avoid more stares, Kent had become immersed in his Blackberry and didn’t bother looking up.
"Here you go Sir," the woman carefully poured the bottle of wine into a glass. Out of the corner of his eye Kent could see a flash of dark red tendrils floating over the table.
"It’s such a nice day today, perfect Fathers Day weather," the waitress babbled on while pouring. As she leaned forward her hair brushed Kent’s wrist, and she tucked it behind her ear.
"I haven’t seen this place so busy since- oh no! Oh crap!" she shrieked as the large bottle toppled out of her hands. The nearly black liquid spilled onto Kent’s white tie and onto his Blackberry instantly breaking it. That certainly caused him to look up.
"I am so sorry!" the waitress apologized over and over. She pulled a dish towel out of her apron and desperately tried to clean the mess.
Kent was just about to express his irritation, but became too dumbfounded to speak, and it wasn’t just from the cold drink. Kent continued to study her as panic glimmered throughout her eyes. Unlike most redheads she had sun kissed skin and only a few freckles that dotted her slim arms. He wondered what nationality she was, and if her deep auburn hair color was natural. It reminded him of autumn.
"Erica!" the Sous Chef tore off across the room, as if he was about to attack her. If only half the room was staring before, now everyone was looking straight at Kent, or at least it seemed that way.
"Do you realize you just spilled a thousand dollar bottle of wine all over one of our most favored clients?" he hissed as if he was about to attack her.
"I..," the nearly in tears waitress attempted.
"You are an idiot. Don’t even think about getting paid this week, it’s coming out of your paycheck."
"But you don’t even pay me that much!" she protested almost laughing.
"Get out of my sight," he replied waving her off. "My deepest apologies Mr. Whitlock, the girl is a complete dimwit. Would you like another bottle Sir? It is on us of course."
Kent hardly heard him as he followed the girl with his eyes.
"Mr. Whitlock?” the Chef repeated.
"No thank you," Kent stood up from his seat not making eye contact with the Ch