Page 11 of Unexpected Storms

I couldn’t imagine my body telling anyone anything, but I wanted it to. I genuinely hoped that this whole experiment worked. For it to do that, I had to give it my all. “Okay, if you say so.”

“Let’s try it again.”

It ended up taking another four times before Cal and Tarin clapped their hands excitedly. “Yes! That right there showed your vulnerability; it was perfect!”

“That is crazy scary,” I told them.

“Oh, there is no doubt that it is,” Tarin said. “It is frightening to open yourself up to strangers and let them see the real you, but it’s going to pay off.”

“I hope so.”

Tarin took my hands. “I know so!”

“And cut!” someone called from off to the side.

“That’s a wrap for today,” Holly said and approached us. “How are you feeling, Ali?”

“Good! I’m excited, and I do love this dance, but I’m exhausted too.”

She chuckled as I glanced at the clock on the far wall. “Oh, no! I need to get going. I’m already late to work. I told them I’d be a couple of hours late, but eek, I’m later than I thought I would be!”

“Go, we will see you tomorrow, and you did fantastic!”

I gave Holly a quick hug. “Thank you, Holly.”

I rushed out of the studio, grabbed my things, and was out on the street in a moment. I could walk, but it would take a while and only make me later. Instead, I hailed a cab, and even though I wasn’t a fan of using them, I didn’t feel so uncomfortable today as I slipped into the back seat and gave the driver the address to Randolph’s, the restaurant where I worked as the head chef.

While I was later than expected, but only by thirty minutes, and I knew my kitchen staff would have everything under control. I’d told them that I might be a little late today, and they all knew what I was doing. When I had explained it, I had gotten some good-natured ribbing, but I didn’t mind. The other employees in the kitchen were my friends and family. If you couldn’t joke around with them, who could you joke with? When I arrived, I rushed down the alley beside the restaurant and came in from the back.

It was only three-thirty in the afternoon, and the restaurant didn’t open on Monday’s until five, but the cooking was fully underway. Desserts were being prepared, bases and stocks were on the stove for the main dishes. The vegetables were being washed and cut.

I slipped into our small employee lounge and changed out of my leggings and t-shirt to my chef’s pants and coat. I wasn’t too worried about the fact that I was sweaty from dancing. Five minutes near the stove during rush hour dinner, and I’d be ten times worse.

“Hey, hey!” Ricardo, my sous chef, called as I stepped into the kitchen. “The star is here. How did your dance lesson go today?”

I laughed. “I’m hardly a star, Ricardo.”

“Ah, but you are. You, my Chef de Cuisine, are a bright and shining star. If I were not the man I am, I would be interested in a woman as beautiful as you.”

I stared at Ricardo. “I’m going to take that as a compliment, and try not to ask you why you are buttering me up.”

He laughed. “You picked up on that, didn’t you?”

“Yes, so what’s wrong?”

“The cod that you wanted for tomorrow night’s special will not be available. They called today and said there was a problem with their main fishing boat, and they couldn’t meet the demand this week.”

“That’s the second time that they have done that.” I tied my apron around my waist. “Fine, I think we might need to source out a new vendor for some of our fish.”

“Might not be a bad idea,” Ricardo said. “In the meantime, we can get tilapia; I already checked with that supplier to see if they can get it in. They said it wasn’t a problem if we told them by five tonight.”

I winced and glanced at the clock. “Better get on it, then.”

“Yes, Chef.” Ricardo hustled away to make the call, and I scanned the kitchen.

I had started here as a Sauté Chef seven years ago. Three years after I started, I moved up to the Sous Chef position, and last year, I took over the Head Chef position, when Monty decided to retire. Despite the title, the Head Chef didn’t usually do as much cooking as many of the other chefs, but I preferred to have my hands in it all. Maybe that was a bit controlling, but I didn’t think the others in the kitchen minded. I knew Ricardo didn’t, and since he was my right-hand man, I appreciated that.

There were thirteen of us that worked in the kitchen. I was the top of the food chain, Ricardo, right beneath me. Behind him was Paul, my Sauté chef, who was responsible for sautéing foods and creating the sauces and gravies that went with other dishes.

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