30
Core: Removing the central section of fruits that contain seeds or tougher material that can’t be eaten.
2016
“It’s really simple.
Forget about me.
If either of you blab, it’s bad for Gale.”
“How is it bad for Gale?”
“Think about it, Lucy.
If the producers find out, he could lose his spot on the show.”
“But what if he wins and they disqualify him after the interview comes out?”
Kyle asked.
“They can’t disqualify him for who he knows,”
Regina said.
“Sometimes the competitors have been mentored by the judges.
What I’m saying is, if anything about me gets out before the competition ever happens, it could get Gale booted just to avoid any hassle.”
“It’s not about me.”
Gale’s gut churned.
“This is Regina’s business.
If she doesn’t want people to know who she is, that’s the end of it.”
His mother stood, arms crossed, while his best friend sat, shoulders slumped.
Marco perched on a counter nearby, elbows on his knees, head bowed, fingers entwined.
Tense when he was never anything of the kind.
He’d not said a word the whole time Regina spoke, which wasn’t long. True to the woman Gale knew, her speech had been short and blunt.
“Well, I’ve known all this time and haven’t said a word,”
Lucy said.
“Not even to my own husband.
I’m a little insulted you thought I needed to be in on this meeting.”
“It’s not for you, Mrs.
Carmichael.”
Kyle’s head hung lower.
“It’s for me.
But, honest, I’d never say a word.
Not a single word. To anyone.”
He’s such a liar.
You know he’s already told everyone at work.
Good thing no one’ll believe him.
Gale gritted his teeth.
“Just be sure you keep it that way,”
Regina said, but she smiled a for-real smile.
Gale couldn’t help conjuring the lips, the bee, the logo.
“For now, it’s business as usual.”
“What do you mean ‘for now’?”
his mother asked.
“Let’s just get Gale through the competition, okay?”
Regina glanced at the clock.
“I have an appointment to get to.
Lucy, go home.
You look a wreck. Gale and Kyle can cover service prep.”
“Me?”
“Aren’t you staying?”
“Of course, Chef.”
“Don’t.”
“Sorry. Regina?”
“Better.”
He’ll be here all the time, now that he knows.
“I could use an afternoon off my feet,”
Lucy said, and only then did Gale notice the rings under her eyes, and the way she rubbed her hands together, as if they hurt.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine, buddy.
Never better.”
She’s not.
She’s worried about you, that all this is going to tip you over the edge.
You got to be diligent, man.
You have to prove—
“We have the kitchen covered,”
Gale said a little too loudly.
He kissed his mother’s cheek.
“Go home.”
Marco hopped down from the counter, heading to the door with Lucy and Regina.
“See you tomorrow, Gale.
We’ll go over your grocery list.”
“Heard, Chef.”
He tried to smile, didn’t quite pull it off.
The tension across his shoulders ached a bit.
Too much chopping.
Not enough sleep. That’s all it was.
“I’ll be back for service,”
Regina said.
“Gale, plan on staying late.
I have two practice crates set up for you.”
“Can I stay and watch?”
Kyle asked.
Told you so!
“Up to Gale.
See you later.”
“Do you care if I stay?”
Kyle asked after they were gone.
“I can jet after service.
Seriously, I don’t want—”
“Don’t be an idiot. Stay.”
“Sweet. Thanks.”
He’s going to be like a barnacle.
Mark my words.
“I better call Jenara.”
Gale took out his phone.
“Tell her I won’t be over tonight.”
“So you .
.
.
did you tell her? About . . . you know.”
“Of course not.”
Gale tapped her number, kind of wondering why he hadn’t.
That was boyfriend stuff, wasn’t it? But it hadn’t even occurred to him to tell her any more than it had to keep it from her.
They were one in the same.
Weren’t they? Instead of calling he texted.
Hey, not gonna make it tonight practicing with reg
?? I’m starting to get jealous.
I never see you anymore.
Hadn’t they just hung out? Work.
Regina’s.
After-hours practice crates.
He’d invited her to his parents’ house for dinner—he cooked—but she’d been unable to make it. When had he seen Jenara last? Life was coming at him fast, these days.
Fifty thousand $$$
The only excuse he could grasp.
?? Tomorrow night not taking no for an answer
It’s a date
She’s too possessive, man.
Gale tapped out.
Lunch still needed to be finished before they could start on dinner.
It’d go way faster with Kyle than with his mom.
If Sean would knock it off, he might even have fun.
“You want to do sandwiches or cut up veg for salad?” he asked.
“What kind of sandwiches?”
“Does it matter?”
“Well.”
Kyle shuffled.
“I thought I’d make one of my famous egg salads.
Do you think she’d mind?”
“You stinking up the place?”
Gale laughed.
“Probably.
There are deli meats in the walk-in, and a slicer on that rack over there.”
“Oh.”
More shuffling.
“I guess I’ll do the veg.
Meat slicers scare me.”
Kyle got romaine, carrots, tomatoes, and bell peppers from the walk-in, set them onto the prep table.
Gale wasn’t overly fond of the meat slicer either, but he was probably the safer choice.
“Hey, Gale?”
“Yeah?”
He carried the slicer to the prep table.
“It’s kind of cool, don’t you think?”
“What’s cool?”
The suction cups were superstrong.
Once placed, moving the slicer was a process.
“You, being Queenie B’s protégé and not even knowing it.”
Gale dropped the edge of the slicer.
“Don’t call her that.
And I’m not her protégé.”
“Dude.”
Kyle shook his head.
“You’re nuts.
You know how many chefs would kill for—?”
“I considered her my mentor way before I knew who she was.
It doesn’t matter to me.
She’s Regina.
End of story.”
“Mentor.
Protégé.
Same difference, dude.
It’s just cool, you know? Being here. Being part of a bigger story, even if my bit in it is really small.”
He’s jealous.
Gale wedged a butter knife under the suction cup, pried it up.
Taking care to place the slicer correctly on the metal prep table, he didn’t even tell Sean to shut up inside his head.
“I guess.
Get chopping.
We have a lot to do before she gets back.”
Kyle chopped.
Gale sliced.
For a while, there was no other sound in the kitchen than the slicer’s whir and the thunk of Kyle’s knife.
Even Sean kept quiet. Slice, slap, slice, slap. The repetition of motion lulled, though Gale knew better than to lose focus. Losing a finger at this point in his life was probably not the best—
“I’ve been reading some stuff.”
Kyle’s voice startled Gale, his finger too close to the blade.
“Regina’s .
.
. just wow. And all she’s been through.”
Slice, slap.
Slice, slap.
Gale couldn’t regain the lull.
“You shouldn’t be prying.”
“Why not? It’s all out there.
She’s a celebrity.
I’m curious, is all.
I can’t believe you’re not.”
“Well, I’m not.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire, man.
“You don’t have to worry.
I’m not going to blab and I’m not going to, like, ask her shit.
She kind of scared me before, but now?”
He shrugged.
“I don’t know.
Less scary, I guess.”
“Less?”
Less?
“She was a train wreck, dude.
I mean, like, a Charlie Sheen/Amy Winehouse train wreck.
Maybe even worse.”
“Don’t you dare fucking pity her.”
Kyle paused his chopping.
“Calm down, dude.
Why would you even think that?”
Gale unwrapped the deli meat.
“Then what do you mean?”
“I’m in awe, I guess.
She was just like us, once.
Then she had it all, lost it all, and ended up here, a soup kitchen cook, making life better for people who need it.
She made it out. Like you.”
Unlike me.
“I’m not out. Not yet.”
“But you’re doing great.”
Kyle gave him that big doofy smile of his.
“You know she’s got to be bankrolling this whole thing, right?”
Gale turned off the slicer, watched the blade slow to a stop, exhaling a deep breath he hadn’t felt go down.
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“So she must not have lost everything, even if that’s what the internet said.
Did you know she has a kid?”
Whoa.
“No.”
“Yeah.
He’s about our age.
Name’s Julian.
He has FAS or some shit, because she—”
“Enough.”
Gale knocked his knuckles on the metal table.
“It’s none of our business.
She’d be pissed if she heard you talking about her life like it is.
Now quit yapping and finish up the salad so we can start assembling sandwiches.”
“You need to chill, dude.
You’re starting to sound just like her.
Why are you so angry?”
“I’m not angry.
I just don’t think we should be talking about her.
She’s been—”
Hiding? Incognito? Pretending? “—just Regina for a long time.
Let it go.”
He won’t.
He’ll keep looking shit up, and if you won’t listen to what he finds out, he’ll tell someone, no matter what he promised.
“Whatever, dude.”
Kyle grabbed another large mixing bowl from the rack, plonked it on the table a little too hard.
He started on the bell peppers, knife a blur even if his eyes were on Gale.
“You’re going to cut off a finger.”
“I could do this blindfolded.”
Kyle’s knife nevertheless slowed.
Gale’s heart fell to his stomach.
Kyle was his best friend.
Maybe his only friend. He wasn’t angry with him, his curiosity, or even his prying, unless it came from the fact that Kyle did what Gale only wished he could. Rubbing a hand over his face, he leaned against the prep table. “I don’t want anything to change.”
“They’ve been changing since you first stepped foot in this place last year,”
Kyle told him.
This time last year, there was no Regina’s Kitchen, no Regina, no Jenara, no sous position at Marco’s, a job he earned long before Marco knew his old friend was also Gale’s mentor.
“I guess.”
Kyle set his knife down, leaned as Gale leaned.
“Be happy, dude.
It’s all good stuff.”
“Is it?”
he said.
“Because she’s not going to stay, you know.
Here in Rock Landing, or even New Haven.”
“Probably not.
I hadn’t thought that far.”
Gale crossed his arms over his abdomen, hunching a little when Kyle placed a hand between his shoulder blades.
“Once people know she’s here, this place stops being a soup kitchen for the local poor and homeless.
People will come from everywhere.
She’ll leave before that happens.”
“But we’re not going to say anything to anyone, dude.
No one’s going to know.”
I can’t do it again.
Gale swallowed the bile rising.
I can’t run.
Sour. Burning.
“Dude, you okay?”
I can’t hide.
That left only one option that Gale could think of.
“It’s only a matter of time.”
“Then don’t think too far ahead.”
Kyle rubbed rough circles on Gale’s back.
“Everything’s going to turn out great.
You’ll see.”
Gale met Kyle’s big silly smile with the best he could manage, which seemed to satisfy his friend because he went back to chopping as if their conversation never interrupted it.
Gale wished he could put things from his mind even half as easily.
Maybe it made Kyle look a little clueless sometimes, but Gale was one hundred percent certain he didn’t stare at the ceiling most nights, just trying to get his brain to stop.
Gale grabbed a loaf of whole wheat bread and brought it to the prep table.
Sandwich assembly wasn’t lulling like the slicer had been, but he could go on autopilot and not lose a finger for it.
Bread, meat, cheese, mayo, bread.
Over and over. The repetition should have soothed somewhat, but it didn’t. It gave his brain room to chew on his own words. On Kyle’s. Even Sean’s. And it came down to the fact that the life he liked—Marco’s, Jenara, Regina, the soup kitchen—was on a collision course with Queenie B and there was absolutely nothing Gale Carmichael could do to stop it.