Rafael
The last dish – a cheesecake with a kind of half-melted trail of compote across it, due to the fact that I no longer had the energy to make it precise – went out of the doors in Grey’s hand. I saw his lips tighten and flatten out when he took in the state of the dessert, but he took it anyway without a word.
And we were done.
I slumped against the bench, letting the cool stone wall support my back and reduce the heat of the rush at the same time. I scrubbed my hands over my face and blinked a few times, trying to bring myself back toward a feeling of humanity.
There were rushes, and then there was that . With just two of us working and no line chefs, it had been even worse than the big wrap party we’d hosted. I had barely stopped moving for the whole of the rest of service, always needing both hands doing different things in different directions just to keep up and avoid customer complaints.
Across from me, Drake slumped against the cold metal of the counter, letting himself slide down until he was sitting on the floor. He looked up and met my eyes. I averted mine.
“Um,” Luca said.
I looked at the clock on the wall above us and nodded. “You can go, Lucas. I’ll make sure Grey knows you did your full shift.”
“And the rest of the dishes?”
I looked at him and gave him a weary, wry smile. “They’re the problem of whoever gets hired tomorrow.”
Luca grinned at me, a rare look on his nervous face, and nodded. “Thanks, Chef,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I’m really glad I worked here with you all. And I’m sorry about Beau.”
I nodded. “That’s worth a lot,” I told him. There was an awkward pause, and I waved an exhausted arm at him. “Now go on, get! Get out of here!”
He laughed and he was gone. I admired the fact that he’d found some positivity, even though he needed this job badly and probably had no idea what he was going to do next.
Come to think of it, I had no idea what I was going to do next.
I had no idea how long it had been when Grey finally clattered back into the kitchen, shoving a card machine down haphazardly on the counter instead of taking it back where it had come from. He looked tired, himself – he wasn’t used to waiting on customers anymore, and certainly not on his own. I’d have liked to think that this would give him some newfound appreciation for the level of work his staff had to put in on a daily basis, but that was just wishful thinking. This was still Grey, after all.
“Right,” he said. “Let’s get this over with. You want to know the results of the contest, I presume?”
“Only reason I’m still here,” I said. In other circumstances, I might have said we’re both , but I didn’t want to speak for Drake. Even if I had felt comfortable doing that, I still couldn’t quite tell what his motivations were for being here.
Despite his denials, I had a feeling it had a lot more to do with the Head Chef job than with Beau.
“We do,” Drake confirmed, standing up heavily. He leaned against the counter. Like me, he was probably feeling so tired he wasn’t sure he could stand up unaided.
“Right, well.” Grey ran a hand back through his hair in a frustrated, distracted manner. I had the feeling he’d had some grand ceremony planned for this, and now he thought we’d ruined it all. “Ah, to hell with it. It wasn’t even close. Drake won by a landslide. You’re officially on the team, Head Chef Warwick.”
I saw my whole life for the past few years crumbling in front of my eyes.
Grey didn’t even care. All he looked was annoyed. Like he was mad we’d ruined his big night – no feeling at all towards the fact that he was losing one of his longest-serving employees.
I’d given everything to this place. Being a chef wasn’t easy work. It consumed your life. Took away all your opportunities to take part in social events because you worked every evening. Every day, you were at home, working on recipes and thinking of ideas. You ended up coming in on your days off because your only friends were the ones who worked in that kitchen.
I’d given so much to him, time and time again, and now he was just discarding me like trash.
And he had the gall to be annoyed about it.
Drake leaned slightly and turned his head so that he could look over his shoulder at me. I met his eyes in silence; all I could see was the bridge of his nose, everything below it hidden under his shoulder. I couldn’t read his expression. What was that? Not gloating. Regret, somehow? Like he was sorry he was taking the job from me?
Whatever it was in his eyes, it held me for the longest time. I could have sworn it was hours; it must have been seconds. All the while, all I could think was, what are you trying to tell me ?
He looked away, breaking the spell, and I blinked. He faced Grey. He shifted to free up his hands, not leaning on the counter anymore; ready to shake his hand and accept the job, no doubt.
“Thank you,” he said. He reached up behind himself and undid the strings on the apron he was wearing over his whites. He took it off slowly.
“Well, thank yourself,” Grey said, a little grumpily. “It was you who did all the work. I’ll see you an hour earlier than normal tomorrow. There may be some training to do.”
Drake snorted a laugh.
I snapped to attention, sitting up straighter. Why would he laugh at his new boss?
“You didn’t let me finish,” Drake said. He folded up the apron and placed it on the counter in front of Grey. “Thank you… but I quit.”
He turned and looked at me again, this time giving me a nod as if to say that it was done, and it was good. He walked right for the exit, pausing only for the moment it took him to grab his jacket and motorcycle helmet as he passed towards the door.
I was so stunned, I didn’t even move at first.
Grey took a breath. He turned towards me. “,” he said, and his tone was conciliatory – patronizingly so. Like I hadn’t seen what just happened right in front of me. Like he hadn’t passed me over right at the time when he would have done to court my loyalty the most.
I laughed at him, too – a freeing, happy laugh that burst out of my chest and surprised me with its violence. “Don’t look at me,” I said, leaping to my feet and yanking at the strings of my apron. Suddenly, the fatigue was gone – I was filled with more energy than I knew what to do with. “I already quit earlier today.”
I threw my apron down on top of Drake’s – threw it! No folding it neatly! – and laughed one last time in Grey’s face for good measure, then turned and sprinted down the corridor. I managed to catch hold of my coat as I ran – there was no leaving anything behind today, not when there was never going to be another chance to come back here and get it – and then burst out into the cold evening air, panting for breath already and looking around for him wildly.
His bike was still there.
“Drake!” I yelled, praying that he would stop and talk to me before he simply rode out of my life for good.