Chapter Sixteen
Angel
My eyes lingered on my blood sugar machine, watching the loading circle. I blew out a breath, my finger tapping on my prep station, sending a low rumble through the stainless-steel table.
“Maybe the batteries are dying,” Alex called as she walked by with a crate full of veggies.
I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “No, these batteries are meant to last six months or longer,” I sighed. A second later, my little magic machine beeped. My eyes dropped, locking in on the number.
One sixty-five.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “I can work with that.” With everything going on, I’d had to reschedule my doctor’s appointment, pushing it back a day.
Even though it was only an extra twenty-two hours, I knew how much could happen during that time.
Heck, your entire life could be flipped upside down in a matter of minutes.
As I chanted the number in my mind, I packed up my medical stuff quickly and took it to my locker in the small room off the kitchen.
My feet came to a shocking halt as my eyes landed on Felix’s locker.
It had been cleared out, the door ajar. “What the hell?”
“Evidence.”
I screeched and jumped back against the door, nearly dropping my things.
Scott was leaning against the wall near the corner, his work jacket hanging on his locker door.
His longish brown hair was wet, pushed back out of his face, and he was wearing a crumpled white undershirt.
His slacks were unbuttoned, his nonslip shoes untied, and his eyes were on the floor.
“The cops came by when you were knee deep in prepping. They cleared out Chef’s locker and took his things to evidence.”
“Goodness, Scott. You scared me,” I pushed out, my heart racing.
He glanced up and gave me a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He looked me up and down. “The service was beautiful. I thought your eulogy was great.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“Kolby was a really great chef.”
“Yes,” I agreed instantly. “Yes, he was.”
Felix was more than that, but we would never get to see it. I regret not getting to know him better.
Scott looked over to the empty locker but made no other moves.
Clearing my throat, I stepped into the room and started working on my lock.
It took me a few tries to get it open. I blamed it on the fact that I could feel Scott’s eyes on me.
He was a nice enough guy. I didn’t know him very well.
I interacted with Alex and Russ more than him, because he mainly stuck to himself. Unless Chef Kolby was yelling at him.
“You doing okay?” he asked, his voice quiet.
I put away my things and checked my ponytail in the small mirror I’d haphazardly taped to the inside of my locker. “Not really.” I closed the door and leaned against it, putting my hands into my pockets. “Cooking helps,” I added as he continued to stare at me.
“Yeah?”
I nodded, a tiny smile toying at my lips. “Yeah, when I’m in the kitchen, I can shut my brain off for a while.”
“Damn. That sounds nice.”
“It isn’t like that for you?”
Scott pursed his lips, shaking his head. “Just a job.”
It was then I realized I didn’t know much about him. “Didn’t you go to culinary school in Texas?”
He grinned, and there was something about it that had a chill slithering down my spine. “Who told you that?”
I blew out a breath, suddenly uncomfortable. “I heard it from someone,” I answered, waving my hand around. “Maybe Alex or Monty.”
“Oh. Yeah, no. I didn’t go to school for this. This is just a place I wound up in, you know?”
Alex called me from the kitchen. “Yo! Angel! These rolls aren’t rising!”
“Duty calls.” I sighed, pushing off the lockers. “Are you staying for the event?”
He grunted. “No. I have some errands to run tonight.” He looked me up and down. “Hey, aren’t you from Texas?”
My blood went cold. “Excuse me?”
With a quick brush of his nose, his demeanor shifted. “I hear a twang in your accent,” he said, tapping his ear with a smirk. “I’ve always wondered.”
“I’m not from the south,” I lied.
“Oh.” He clicked his tongue and walked past me. “My hearing must be off then, huh?”
“Must be.”
“Angel!” Alex yelled again.
Scott moved out of the way and gestured for me to go ahead of him. “The dead never sleep and the work never ends, am I right, Chef?” he asked.
I flinched, remembering that phrase from somewhere. “Hey.” I turned, but he was walking into Margie’s office. “What the fuck?” I muttered, putting my hand to my stomach, suddenly queasy.
Twenty minutes later, there was a new batch of rolls rising, and Monty came into the kitchen, rolling his neck. “Good morning, everyone,” he greeted with a yawn.
Alex, Russ, and I shared a confused look. Scott was at his prep station, facing the wall and chopping herbs, his earbuds blasting rock music. “It’s two in the afternoon,” Alex deadpanned.
“Yes, but after the funeral—sorry, celebration of life—I took a nap. Therefore, it’s morning to me,” he said, moving to the center of the kitchen.
He plucked a blueberry out of my bowl, popping it into his mouth.
“Do you think I have time to run down to Rossy’s?
I need a fucking coffee before tonight.”
“If you’re tired, you don’t have to stay, Monty,” I said, pouring sugar into a bowl of melted butter. “Tonight, no one is getting paid. It’s not a requirement for you to be here.”
He shrugged and took a second blueberry. “I want to be here. For Chef Kolby. Though he scared the shit out of me most nights, he was a cool dude.”
“Fuck,” Russ clipped, dropping his knife.
He pressed the balls of his hands into his eye sockets for a moment, and everyone remained quiet.
He dropped his hands with a loud groan, slamming them down onto the steel table.
As the harsh sound echoed through the space, he clipped, “All right, can we just promise each other something? Right here and now?”
Alex shifted closer to me, and Monty tilted his head to the side. Scott paid no attention to us.
“When Marg opens this place back up, can we not go back to being normal?”
“What do you mean, Russ?” Alex gently asked.
His eyes darted to her. “What I mean is…I don’t want this to be swept under the rug. I don’t want us to be sad for a day and then move on.” He yanked off his hat, twisting it in his hands. “I don’t want us to forget about Chef Kolby, is all.”
“We’re not going to forget,” I declared.
Russ nodded, a line of sweat on his forehead. “Good. Okay, good.”
Alex moved, coming around to his station. “I think you need to sit down. You look pale, man.”
He let out a harsh, breathless laugh. “Yeah, well, death freaks me the fuck out.”
Understandable.
“I’d feel a lot better if you did as Alex suggested,” I added.
His eyes snapped over to me. “And what’s going to happen to you?”
I stiffened, and out of the corner of my eye, Scott pulled out his ear bud and turned around. “What’s going on?” he asked.
No one answered him, because now, all eyes were on me. My throat felt dry, my hands suddenly clammy. “What do you mean?” I cleared my throat, hating the way my voice sounded.
Russ waved at me. “Hello? Chef told us that he was leaving and that you would be taking his place.”
My knees nearly gave out. “What?” I breathed. “He did what?”
“You didn’t know?” Monty gasped, a hand over his mouth.
“No, I knew he wanted me to take his place, but he told me he wasn’t going to tell anyone—”
“Well, he did. He told us all when you were on bed rest after your accident. He said he blamed himself for it,” Alex jumped in.
Russ nodded. “Yeah, he fucking went off on us so bad that dinner shift when you were home.”
“Oh, yeah,” Monty drawled, snapping his fingers. “We heard that.”
Alex paled. “Y-you heard that?”
“Bitch, the entire dining room heard it,” he scoffed. “These walls are decades old. I don’t know why half of you think they are soundproof.” He pointed to himself. “I know things you guys would fucking faint over.”
A sharp knock had us all twisting our necks. My lips parted at the sight of Ash, his huge body filling the doorway. He was still in his suit, but his tie was missing. Those dark, hypnotizing eyes landed on me, taking in my apron and lingering on my nonslip shoes.
“Sir, we’re not open,” Monty tentatively pushed out. Now he looked like he was seconds away from fainting.
Ash didn’t take his eyes off me as he said, “I’m here for Angel.”
All heads swiveled in my direction.
“Angel?” Alex parroted.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Ash, ignoring everyone else.
“You said you needed a moment of peace before tonight.”
God, this man.
“Oh. Yes.” My hands found the knot at my back, and I started pulling it loose. “Let me get my sweater.”
“Take your time, baby,” he murmured as he stepped out of the kitchen, leaving the door swinging.
“Did that fine-ass man just call our girl ‘baby’?” Monty breathed out.
My blush was prominent, and I knew it would take at least half an hour for it to go away. “I’ll be back a bit later,” I announced. “Alex, if you would put the cakes in the oven at four, I’ll be back before they’re done.”
“Who is that?” Monty and Russ demanded.
“Guys, you saw him at the funeral.”
“Yes, but who is he?” Russ pressed, glancing at the door, a slow smirk forming. “Is he your boyfriend?”
I paused, looking at the door and then back to Russ. “I don’t—I don’t know,” I stammered. “We haven’t had a chance to have that conversation yet.”
Alex nodded in understanding, pulling her braid over her shoulder. “Well, there’s a lot going on.”
“Yes,” I agreed, a soft sigh leaving me as I looked over at Felix’s picture on the wall. A twinge of pain hit my heart then, his worried face coming to my mind.
“So it’s new?” Monty guessed. “This thing between you and Red Snake boy.”
I blinked and twisted my neck. “What?”
“Red Snake as in the place where Margo’s boyfriend works?” Alex pieced it together aloud.
“One and the same.” All three of them looked at me, awaiting confirmation.