He didn’t stop by the truck again. And I expected hell would freeze over before he ever spoke to me after our earlier altercation. Which was more than fine with me.
But something about the way he flew through the plaza without once turning his helmeted head my direction lit a fire in me once again. He was a jerk. An arrogant jerk! So caught up in his sycophantic world that he couldn’t see a good chef if she punched him in the face…
Before I knew it, I had a decent menu picked and mentally prepared.
My whole philosophy was modern Americana comfort food with a twist. I’d played with burgers and mini meatloaves, chicken fried steak and ribs all day, but inspiration hit like a lightning strike, and I knew exactly what I wanted.
Grilled cheese and tomato soup. Only my grilled cheese would come with fresh mozzarella, pancetta and strawberry-jalapeno jam on brioche. And my tomato soup would be served as a cooled drizzle over the sandwich. Hand cut fries for the side with the same tomato soup served for dipping instead of ketchup. Messy, but not overly so. Familiar, but interesting enough to feel different.
Pulled pork sandwiches. Only instead of traditional American BBQ, the sandwiches would be Korean BBQ with an Asian slaw and sticky buns. With fried green beans and a teriyaki glaze for the side dish.
Done.
I’d smiled down at my list, knowing both dishes could be made quickly and easily enough. I’d start my pork early in the morning so it would be done ahead of time and the rest was easy enough to handle by myself.
The menu would have to stay small for now, but I could change it when things didn’t work or weren’t selling. Or hell, whenever I felt like it.
I’d gotten used to cooking quickly over the past year as I moved from kitchen to kitchen wherever I could find work. I had never been in charge before, but Friday night was as good a time as any to take the lead.
Fast forward twenty-ish hours or so and my pride-fueled optimism had evolved into full-fledged panic.
The line in front of my window stretched six people deep while three other couples waited for their food.
I scrambled around my tiny kitchen like a mad woman, carefully balancing taking orders and filling orders. If I ignored the window for too long, the people waiting would leave. If I ignored the orders waiting, those people would leave too and drop scathing reviews all over the internet.
Or shout their complaints straight to my face.
I wiped my hand across my damp forehead and ignored the hard pounding of my heart. Adrenaline coursed through me. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to dance in triumph or puke in early defeat.
“Hey, anybody home?” A voice called through the window sounding cartoonish in its dramatic impatience. “I’ve been waiting forever out here!”
I finished slapping together a grilled cheese and set it on the stove before I hurried over to the window. Vann grinned at me through the open window.
“Look at you.” His smile stretched across his face, and his eyebrows danced on his forehead. “I’m impressed, sis. Opening night and you’re killing it.”
“Oh, thank God,” I panted, ignoring his compliment. “I need your help.”
His eyebrows stopped waggling and drew down in concern. “Do you need me to get something from the store? I’m not sure what’s still open, but I can-”
I cut him off, desperate to get him inside. “I need you to take orders. Inside. Now.” I turned back to the stove to flip the grilled cheese. Glancing back at Vann, I tacked on a quick and panicked, “Please.”
He shook his head, fear reflecting in his eyes. “I can’t go in there. You’ve seen me in a kitchen! I’m a disaster.”
“I don’t need you to cook anything!” I reached overhead for a disposable cardboard basket and a butcher paper square to line it. “I just need you to take orders and money.”
My brother’s voice trailed after me. “Are you serious?”
I threw a desperate smile over my shoulder. “I’ll owe you one!”
“You already owe me!”
Gently placing the toasted grilled cheese on one side of the basket and dumping a handful of fries on the other, I gracefully added the tomato soup drizzle as well as a plastic ramekin of the sauce for the fries. With a small sprinkle of parsley for garnish, I stepped to the other window and handed it to the man waiting.
“Here you go.” I smiled again, hoping he didn’t notice the lines of sweat coating my face or the way my hands shook as I passed him his late night meal. “Thanks for stopping by.”
Thankfully his bleary eyes were fixed on his food. “This looks amazing.”
I had a line of people and more plates to make, but I couldn’t help soaking in his compliment. “Thank you.”
With his mouth already full of a bite of sandwich he shook his finger at the truck and crooned, “This was such a good idea. This area needs more late night food.”
My grin stretched across my face. “That’s exactly what I thought.”
“Okay, what do I do?”
I glanced to my left to see Vann tying on one of the extra aprons I had hanging near the door. He didn’t need to wear one since he wouldn’t be handling food, but I didn’t waste time telling him that.
“Thanks again,” I hollered to the customer and then spun around to make the next meal. To Vann, I said, “Just take orders. Write them down here.” I pointed to a pad of paper. “Put them up here.” I pointed to the order line over my head. “And don’t get them out of order.”
He leaned out the window. “Just a second.” To me, he asked, “And payment?”
“Use the pouch for cash and my PayPal thingy for cards.” I slid my phone to him with the card reader attached to it. “Everything’s five dollars tonight,” I explained while my hands flew with superhuman speed to make two pulled pork meals.
The cunning businessman in my brother perked up, and he couldn’t help but ask, “I thought you wanted to make money?”
I smiled at the sandwich in my gloved hand. “Opening weekend special. I’m hooking them on good, cheap food. I need them to come back. Even when the prices double.”
“Huh,” Vann grunted. He didn’t say anything more so I couldn’t tell if he thought that was a good idea or a bad one. Regardless he started taking orders and payment, and I stopped freaking out.
I exhaled a slow breath and finally let myself settle into making good food. For the past three hours, it was nothing short of a relentless scramble. I hadn’t been able to breathe, let alone enjoy the thing I loved most in this world.
Now I could finally find my stride. I was used to full menus to cook from, so limiting myself to two dishes became an easy routine I glided through effortlessly.
I was happier with my dishes too. Even though I knew they tasted fine, they weren’t always the prettiest things to look at in my haste to shove them at the customers. With Vann’s help, I could take the time to make each order look as good as it tasted.
Which made me immensely happy.
I finished up the orders practically twirling around in the kitchen, and when we finally got a second for a break twenty minutes later, I threw my arms around Vann and squealed against his t-shirt.