Page 44 of Whiskey Neat

I nod, smiling, but inside I’m wondering whether that’s true. I barely know Salem, but his allure is undeniable. I wouldn’t know how to navigate a potential relationship if I tried, and knowing Salem won’t initiate it either leaves me at a loss.

I guess this is one of those play it by ear situations. All I know for sure is that I need more of him. That’s enough for now.

At exactly three o’clock, the front door opens and two men enter, both of them with an air of arrogance that seems fitting for chefs competing for the same position. Kit immediately sizes them up with his discerning gaze, while I launch into greeting them.

“Hey. I’m Indy Hart, co-owner.”

They glance at each other as one steps forward first with his hand extended. “I’m Teddy Moore.”

Teddy is an imposing man, exceeding my own height by at least two inches and my weight by twenty pounds of muscle. He’s covered in tats from his neck down as far as I can tell, and has numerous facial piercings. He’s almost bald except for a stripe of bright green hair down the center of his scalp. He’s carrying a large bag and wearing his chef’s coat.

The other man offers his hand. “Wren Clark.”

Wren has sweet eyes countered by the serious expression and rugged jaw. He’s not tall at all, and not muscular, but there’s something about him that still reads as strong and tough. He’s ginger, Ridley’s kryptonite, but he also has black tips in his hair that give him sort of a dark angel vibe. His arms are covered in tattoos, but rather than a chef coat, he’s wearing jeans and a simple blue t-shirt. Teddy’s vibe is in your face, while Wren’s is more subtle but just as vibrant.

“I’m Kit, another co-owner.”

Both men shake Kit’s hand. We decided earlier to give them a quick tour of the place, introduce them to the others, ask a few cursory questions, and taste the food.

As we tour the kitchen, Teddy fires questions at us about equipment, refrigeration, and hiring staff, which at least shows he knows what he’s talking about. Wren, on the other hand, is quiet for the most part, simply nodding and observing.

Back out in the main part of the restaurant, Kit and I introduce the two chefs to the others. No surprise, Ridley practically swoons over Wren’s red hair. A moment later, Salem comes out from the office, pausing as he sees us all standing near the bar.

“Wren?”

“Salem.” The chef’s face lights up. “Holy crap, man. How are you?”

I watch with simmering jealousy as Wren and Salem hug it out. They chit chat for a few seconds, and when I glance at Teddy, he looks deflated.

Salem clears his throat, taking a step closer to me. “Wren and I worked together before he took off for greener pastures in the restaurant world.”

“We were in the same training class,” Wren explains. “Six weeks.”

Salem chuckles. “Good times.”

“And a small world.”

“We should try the food,” Lowen interjects. “Teddy?”

“Sure.” He stands and unpacks his bag, setting out two silver foil trays and a few plastic plates and cutlery. “I went with a classic American menu, but updated and slightly elevated.”

He opens the first foil tray, revealing what looks like mac and cheese. The second tray is filled with wings with some kind of glaze on them. He dishes out portions for all of us, including Wren, who happily takes the plate.

I dig into a wing first, noting the moisture and the ease the meat comes off the bone. The sauce is sweet with a hint of spice. The mac and cheese is good but not a standout. As I glance at the other guys, they seem to be enjoying it, but Lowen picks at the wing, clearly not interested in getting his fingers sticky from the sauce.

Wren eats two wings and all his mac and cheese. “This is good, man. You work at Lux, right?”

“Right,” Teddy says, exuding confidence. “Which is French, of course, but I’m versatile.”

“So am I,” Kit mumbles, making me huff a laugh.

“Wren?”

Wren nods, opening his insulated bag. He pulls out two trays and a bowl, along with actual dishes and cutlery. Nice touch.

In the bowl is a salad of some kind, and in one of the trays is a meat and vegetable dish. Finally in the last tray is pasta. He pulls out a baggie of toppings and a small container. We watch him mix the salad and toppings. As he prepares things, he explains his menu.

“I went with a concept of appealing to different groups—college kids, a more discerning crowd, and locals. Since your name is based on Moby Dick and your target clientele are queer folk, I titled my dishes as such.”

---