I get to Knife at around two—hours before it’ll open for the evening shift, but it’s Tuesday, the one day each week the chefs sit down to eat together before work. It’s a chance to talk shop and air any problems that might be brewing, though it’s mostly a chance to share a meal with the people you’re too busy working beside to spend any time with. This is only the second one I’m going to, but it already feels like I know the place better than my own.
At least I won’t have to face Cole. I’m not quite sure how things are gonna go when we next bump into each other. I’m thinking I might go for a ‘what we did in the office that one time was cool, but we should get back to reality’ kind of vibe, though I’m worried it’ll turn into a ‘what the hell was that all about, and when are we doing it again?’ sort of thing. Because the truth is that—even though it’s complicated, and messy, and there are a dozen obvious reasons I shouldn’t—I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.
I know Cole’s a player, but maybe what I need, after all this time moping over my asshole ex and my failed restaurant, is to play around a little. Cole’s definitely not going to get serious on me, and I’m too focused on work to get serious on him, so why not? Sure, there’s a little voice in my head telling me it’s a bad idea that could be dangerous—but I have to struggle to hear it over the loud tingles my body gets when I remember how good he was, the way he commanded me to come for him…
I snap back to the urgency of the present moment, step through the propped-open exit door and hurry through the kitchen, checking my watch to see how late I am.
“Hey! Willow!” someone calls from the kitchen.
I stop to find Aaron, a line cook from Brooklyn who makes everything sound like he’s delivering a line at an open mic night. His round, bearded face sitting upon his round body giving him the appearance of a snowman, and his ever-present smile almost as big as his heart.
“Hey,” I say, moving over to him as he plates some seared scallops. “Is everyone here?”
“They’re sitting down,” Aaron says, nodding toward the tables. “But if you help me carry the plates through they probably won’t notice you’re late.”
“Sure,” I say, taking the scallops from him and picking up a couple of other dishes.
I move through to the front of the restaurant, where the staff are already laughing and chatting with the easy energy of relieved tension, languishing in their chairs like soldiers waiting for action, already working their way through two bottles of the least-ordered reds, preempting the busy shift ahead of them. Two tables have been shoved close together to fit the dozen plus members of the kitchen staff and waiters, and as soon as I draw close they start picking food from the plates before I’ve even set them down.
A couple of them affectionately call out my nickname, ‘Spud,’ as I grab the bottle to fill a glass and take my seat.
The last time we did this, Cole wasn’t here, and I’d figured that he wasn’t interested in the kind of banal gossiping and trivial camaraderie that went on, so I freeze a little in surprise when he shows up at the door a few minutes in, flashing his diplomatic, assured smile. His hand is on Chloe’s shoulder and she’s grinning ear to ear. I flash her a little wave and she returns it happily before the raucousness of the other chefs takes over the moment.
“Hey, who’s your new girlfriend?” Aaron laughs. “Little young, even for you.”
“Quiet please, everyone,” Cole says, ignoring the joke. “You remember I told you all about the Young Chefs mentoring program? Well here she is, the most promising cook in Los Angeles County: Chloe Fernandez. Chloe? Welcome. This is my staff.”
There are coos and greetings of ‘hey Chloe’ from the more interested members of the staff that Chloe returns happily, beaming uncontrollably as she waves back and takes in the group.
“So you wanna be a great chef one day?” Michelle asks between bites of scallop.
“Yeah. I really do.”
“Better than Cole?”
Chloe grins. “I’m already better than him. He overthinks everything.”
The table erupts into another wave of easy laughter.
“You got that right!” Michelle says.
“Ok wiseass,” Cole says to Michelle, pulling out a chair for Chloe at the table. “Let’s eat.”
The number of people there, and the added interest of having Chloe at the table, means that seeing Cole again isn’t half as awkward as I expected it to be. He spends most of his time at the other end of the table doing his best to entertain his young mentee, while I talk with Ryan beside me about his guitar collection. After a half hour, my full stomach and a glass of wine making it easy to smile as I listen to the stories around me, I almost forget that he’s even there. Once the plates are empty, the volume starts to fade, and Cole seizes everyone’s attention with that voice that makes it unmistakable he’s the boss around here.
“Ok everyone,” he says, clapping his hands together and putting his elbows on the table, a posture that leaves no doubt he’s about to talk business. “Anyone have anything they wanna raise here? Any problems or issues? Kitchen? Waitstaff? Management? I’m all ears.”
Cole looks around at a few of us, and I notice that his eyes don’t meet mine. There are a few shrugs and shakes of the head around the table until Leo eventually says, “Did they get back to you about the abalone deliveries?”
“Nope. I’m calling them right after this.”
“They’ve got to move them to Mondays.”
“I know. Leave it to me. Anything else?”
“There’s some rapper coming in on Thursday,” Charlie says fretfully.
“Full entourage?” Cole asks.
“Possibly. Where should we put them?”
Cole tilts his head. “Let’s rearrange the seating in the back of the dining room and keep some chairs available in case. Anyone else? No? Nothing? Ok, listen. I’m going to add something new to the specials menu—just for this week. See how it goes, see how the customers like it.”
My pulse starts to pound.
“A new dessert?” the pastry chef asks hopefully.
“No. A main. Basque burgers a l’ail et moutarde. I’ve already shown Willow how to prepare it, so she can show the rest of you.” My stomach drops. He showed me how to prepare it? Cole looks at the waiters as I feel my heart thump. “Maybe if you have some down time this shift. You guys can try it, get to know it, then suggest it to diners. And be sure you ask them what they think afterward—I wanna know what they think.”
There are nods amongst the waiters, but I’m staring at Cole now, mouth open in astonishment.