19. Taylor
Chapter 19
Taylor
I t’s a short, brisk walk to the college in the glowing morning light.Seth arrived before me, as usual, and the scent of fresh coffee greets me as I push through the cafeteria doors.He’s a good kid. I’m lucky to have him for as long as I do.And he’s lucky to be starting here, in a place where no one is going to tell him he’s got what it takes to open his own place. No one’s going to plant the burning seed of longing that destroys so many talented young cooks.Here, he’ll learn that work can be hard and dirty and thankless, but at the end of the day, you have the same paycheck to take home and throw at the pile of debt waiting there for you.
That’s what people like him, and myself, need. Rising star opportunities are for the upper class. The class whose family can float them if things go wrong, or if it takes a year or more to turn any kind of profit.
Not for people whose families are the ones drowning.
“Morning, Seth.”
“Morning, Chef,” he calls back. “Chowder day.”
It’s a familiar greeting, and I smile at the predictability of it all. Sure, it was a bit of a transition going from daily chalkboard menus to standardized weekly soup schedules, but I’m starting to see the benefit of it. The way the routine works its magic on me.
I don’t need the thrill of creativity and passion.
I can get my thrills elsewhere. Work is where you come to get paid.
The morning passes quickly in my office, half-eaten omelet discarded on a pile of invoices, and I’m surprised when a knock at my door produces none other than Ainsley.I narrow my eyes at him and then glance down at the clock on my laptop. “Damn, is it noon already?”
The quarter started today, relegating his hours to four a day, after noon. I generally wouldn’t care when a volunteer like him showed up, but of course, he’s different.
“Miss me?” he answers, the smart-ass.
I huff in response and try not to shift in my seat as the tension of the moment gets the better of me.I knew it would be weird at work, but I told myself I could handle it.
Hell, I didn’t even fuck the guy. What is there to be awkward about?
“You’re in the dish pit,” I say, looking back down at my computer, hoping he gets the hint and leaves.
Surprise of the century—he doesn’t.
“You should give Seth a promotion.”
I glance up to find him standing right up against my desk, facing me with both hands planted on piles of papers. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “Oh, really?”
I’ll be goddamned if this little shit is going to tell me how to do my job.
“Yeah. He needs Saturdays off so he can join a baseball team. And he told me only prep cooks can ask for Saturdays off.”
It takes every ounce of my strength not to let the blow show on my face.
“He’ll move up when he’s ready,” I say, feeling a bolster of confidence when my voice comes out strong and steady.
“You don’t think he’s ready now?”
I’m upset that one of my employees, especially a younger, more vulnerable one like Seth, felt like he couldn’t come to me with a schedule request like that.I’m worried about what else could be going on that I don’t know about. I’m worried I’ve been too distracted with all this Gem stuff, with my family stuff…with whatever. I need to be focused on giving the employees here the best workplace I can.
I’m worried I might be failing and didn’t even realize it.
Other than the distraction of having to remember what he looks like when he comes, none of that is Ainsley's fault.
But he’s the one standing here, so he’s going to take the brunt of it.
I push to my feet, arms still crossed. Ainsley quickly straightens from where he was leaning on the desk so I don’t tower over him, but I’m still taller.
Looking down on him sends a rush of power through my chest as I take a deep breath.
“In this industry, you move up when you master the level you’re at. You learn that doing the best job you possibly can at the job you currently have is the only way to make it. That way, when you do move up, you know how to help the people below you. We don’t need people at the top who don’t know what it’s like to be at the bottom.”
He registers the shot fired directly at him and his whole useless, spoiled peer base, and I revel in the victory.
“So, we’re just going to pretend you don’t know what my dick looks like then?” He recovers and fires off that smart ass remark, trying not to show that I got to him.
“That’s the plan.”
“Okay, then, boss. See you at lunch.”
The door slams behind him, and I collapse into my chair, dragging my hands down my face.
I realize it makes me a complete idiot, but I hadn’t exactly considered what this was going to mean for my work life. There’s no way I can sit next to that guy at lunch and pretend I don’t know him. But what would it mean for the rest of the crew to think I befriended his preppy ass when I’ve been blowing off their invitations to hang out for years?
I groan in frustration and slam my laptop shut. Leaning out of my office door, I spot Seth returning from the dining room with empty cream pitchers and shout his name.
“I need to make some schedule changes. Are you good to start working Mondays instead of Saturdays?”
“Uh…um, yeah. Yes, chef,” the kid sputters in surprise, nearly dropping the stainless-steel carafes he’s juggling.
“It starts this week.”
He nods, still stunned, and I leave him there to recover alone.
It’s going to be hell trying to get someone as reliable as Seth to cover that Saturday shift, and I know damn well I’ll be working it myself more often than not, but I don’t mind. The kid deserves to do what he wants in life. At least until the harsh reality of it all takes him down like it does to all of us.
Except fucking Ainsley.