SEQUEL TO - ESPRESSOLY FOR YOU; a one shot.
Daisy, twenty-two and a culinary graduate was set to crack her first interview and impress the head chef but when asked to meet the restaurant manager for a final word, things took a turn into the surprise...
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"Pick up the order people. We need food on the table," Steve's raged volume made us to sear and toss up contents faster.
Linda turned to me and winked. Now that she too knew what a softie Steve was, she didn't fear him anymore.
After the anniversary gala, I narrated everything to Linda who had her jaws ajar throughout. She was spell bonded, hearing about Steve's true nature. Now I understood the reason why he was adamant in letting people assume he was arrogant. In a kitchen where command was everything, his angered tone made everyone fear him. But for us, he was a soft mush beneath all the coconut hardened exterior.
"Ladies," Steve moved close to us and dipped his head, watching my pan simmer with the scallops. "Don't make me regret being friends with you." His eyes danced between Linda and me when he breathed those words before moving away.
Tittering, we speed through cooking. With the lunch rush catching up, our chatters died down. What remained were orders being shouted out and an occasional yell from Marcy or Steve for us to increase our pace.
By now, I had assimilated to the ways of kitchen work. Yelling didn't mean anything personal and any specific instruction from Marcy needed to be adhered to without further questions. She was the head chef for a reason.
Plates after plates exited the double doors towards the hungry customers whose faces I assumed alit when their orders were served. While those previledged entities worked on their knife and fork skills, Linda and I amped up our pace for sauces and meats.
The rush took hours before reducing and eventually dying down like flickering fire in the candle holding onto the end of the wick before fusing into the wax. The only mini respite for us was the post lunch during which many of us would take rest and sooth their backs and legs.
After a hectic morning, Linda decided on taking a smoke break in the back ally while I, her usual company chomped on my salad.
"You sure you would be full with it?" She pointed to the colorful leafy decoration on my plate.
"Oh no. This is just starter. The main course is yet to be devoured."
"Baby whale," the voice turned me to its epicenter and I knew who it was to eat-shame me. "You are called inside." Steve poked his head through the exit door and eyed me as I struggled to shove more food into the little buccal orifice.
"Let it go. You can eat later," he said, pulling away my plate as I struggled to hold onto it like a student writing the last part of an answer in the examination before the sheet was pulled away.
"Come on, I am hungry," I tossed the fork at him, which he neatly ducked.
"I will report you for physical torture," he smirked, knowing well that my wooden cutlery wouldn't even harm a fly. "And for making forks fly, you little devil."
