Chapter 1 #3
No one had requested that week off as far as he could tell. “I haven’t promised anything yet.”
“When have you ever said no to me?” Dani’s smile came through the line loud and clear.
He laughed and hung up. Dani had a point—he had a hard time saying no to his family.
Jamie Randall, his six-foot-seven coworker who looked more like a Marine than a line cook, with his broad chest and close-cut blond hair, wandered over.
He’d been working at Escargot when Zach first started.
Unlike Zach, Jamie didn’t care to move up in the ranks of the kitchen.
He snagged one of the deviled eggs Zach had rejected. “Is this your new recipe?”
“Yep.” Zach crossed his arms and leaned back on the counter. “I added a little horseradish and tarragon as well as mustard to the cooked yolks.”
“Can I try it?” Jamie didn’t wait for him to answer before popping the whole thing in his mouth. “Delicious. This should be on the menu.”
“Ha. You’re funny. Chef Louie would never go for it.”
“Why are you wasting your talents here, man?” Jamie popped another quail egg in his mouth and chased it with a bite of ham. Suddenly, the big man snapped to attention. He gestured with his chin toward the kitchen door.
Zach turned in time to see two men enter. Marcel Boivin, the slight, silver-haired owner of Escargot and a head shorter than his companion, gesticulated widely as he walked and talked. The man next to him was the head chef of Escargot, Chef Louie Andrews.
“I just think we need a few new items on our menu,” Marcel said, his French accent heavy tonight.
“Ah! Hello, gentlemen.” The old man clasped his hands together and nodded at Zach and Jamie.
“Another excellent service tonight. Be sure to say merci beaucoup to the rest of the team.” He advanced a step, leaving Chef Louie by the door, silent and glowering.
Chef Louie, his chef’s whites pristine and his brown hair gelled tight to his scalp, had sent the rest of the staff home after the kitchen had been scrubbed clean.
“Mr. Boivin, Chef.” Zach nodded back. “I thought you’d gone home for the night.”
“Chef and I had some business to discuss. What is this?” Marcel waved a hand toward Zach’s elevated potluck food.
Zach stepped around the table, a lame attempt to block the food. “Nothing, sir.”
“Nonsense. It looks good.” Marcel selected an egg and ate it. His eyes widened. “This is fantastique. Chef Louie, you are a genius.”
Wait a minute.
Louie’s face cleared. “Uh, thank you.”
“This is what I mean. New menu items. Chef Louie, why did you let me prattle on about it when you’d already prepared some things for me to taste?
” Marcel ate one of the prosciutto on rye sandwiches.
“Non. This one is pas bon. Not good. I don’t know what you were thinking here.
But I like that quail oeuf, I mean egg. Put it on the hors d’oeuvres menu. ”
Marcel breezed out, leaving Louie, Zach, and Jamie staring at each other.
Louie crossed his arms, eyes flashing. “You have been trying to undermine me ever since you stepped foot in this restaurant.” Louie’s French accent was not as thick as Marcel’s, but it still cut through the air. “What were you trying to pull, having these things plated up?”
“I didn’t even know he was going to be here tonight.” But Zach’s words didn’t faze Louie.
“Since you feel you can upstage me, maybe you should teach the next Make-It-Monday series.” Louie’s hand flicked the air. “If this happens again, you’re gone.”
Zach sighed. “Yes, Chef.”
Louie spun on his heel and stalked out.
“Chef Louie really has it in for you.” Jamie carried the empty dishes to the sink.
“My first night here some big shot complimented my cooking, and Louie was offended. He’s made it miserable ever since.”
“Dude. What are you doing staying here and taking his mistreatment?” Jamie ran water over the plate. “Make-It-Mondays are like his idea of punishment. He only assigns them to someone on his hit list. Those classes are brutal.”
A room full of people who didn’t know how to cook coming in and thinking they could master it in a night?
Yeah, the classes could be difficult, but he’d done them before.
Shouldn’t be a big deal this time either.
The hardest part was being in front of all those people. “It’s fine. I’m paying my dues.”
“It’s really not fine. He just totally stole the credit for your dish. And what dues? You’ve been a chef for a long time.”
“His kitchen, his recipes. We all signed on to that when we came.” He raised a shoulder. “And I’ve only been here less than two years. I’m still the new guy.”
“It’s not right, man. He’s not doing it because you’re the new guy.” Jamie shook his head. “But whatever. It’s your life.” The big man patted him on the shoulder. “I’m taking off. See you tomorrow for another round of non-crime and punishment.”
Except, maybe Jamie had a point. With Chef Louie in charge, his job was a dead-end.
He thumbed a text to Dani.
Zach
Fine. I’ll come to Flavor Fest. Sign me up for the contest.
Because maybe he could wow Paul or Anne and land himself a new position.
He needed to get out of this job.