Bon appetit, p.1
Bon Appétit, page 1
BON APPÉTIT
The Lucky Lady Casino Short Stories
Book 7
Kathryn Shay
Bon Appétit
Copyright © 2019 by Kathryn Shay
All Rights Reserved
Published by Ocean View Books
Cover Design by Shelley Kay at Web Crafters
Smashwords Edition
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Table of Contents
BON APPÉTIT
Author’s Note
The Lucky Lady Casino Short Stories series
THE BIG GAMBLE Excerpt
About the Author
BON APPÉTIT
“What the hell are you two doing?” Chef Garrick made the comment to the assistants who worked at the salad counter in the kitchen of The Lucky Lady Casino. Garrick’s second night at the restaurant, The Atrium, wasn’t going any better than the first one.
“I’m preparing the house salad, sir.” The red-headed kid who made the comment didn’t look old enough to vote. Still, if he couldn’t do the job, he shouldn’t be here.
“Did I not correct you last night on the proper way to make the new salads? The garnishes on the top are all wrong.”
“I, um…”
“You know better than I do?”
“N-no.” The boy’s face reddened.
“You?” he asked the second person helping him.
The girl spoke up. “I wasn’t here last night. I don’t even know what your changes were.”
“You should have asked.”
His sous chef stepped in. “This is a totally new item. Give them a chance to adapt.”
“I won’t be thwarted by underlings.” He faced the two kids. “You both are fired.”
Two audible gasps. The boy’s lip quivered.
The woman whipped off her apron. “If they go, I go.”
Garrick arched a brow that someone had complained was insufferable. “Goodbye, Chef.”
A look of astonishment crossed her face. Then her eyes became steely. “You’ll regret this.”
He had to admit, he’d gotten a little twinge at getting rid of the second in command. Nonetheless, he quipped, “C’est la vie.” He crossed to the steak station. “Hold down the fort…what was your name again?”
“Brody Lanahan. Yes, Sir.”
“I’ll be back.” He removed his hat, and stormed out through the back door, strode down the corridor and out into the casino proper. The Lucky Lady was a nice little gambling establishment, one he wanted to make his mark in.
Taking the escalator to the second floor, he calmed his pulse. He had to be diplomatic with the management, the human resources person who hired him and the staff. He knocked on Cassandra Keagan’s door. “Come in.”
“Ms. Keagan,” he said when he entered. “I have a bit of a problem.”
“Let’s sit, Chef.” She circled her desk and gestured to a small conference table and joined him there. “What happened?”
He explained the situation.
Her brows lifted. “Let me get this straight. You fired two people last night. And tonight, you let go of two more workers and the sous chef.”
“I did.” He kept his tone even. “But I promised you perfection, and I need the right staff to do it.” He lasered her with a look. “And I was promised control of the employees.”
She didn’t seem affected by his stare. “Did you try to correct them first?”
“Yes, last night. But they didn’t do it right today.”
“I see.” She watched. “What are you going to do without Chef Mary? She’s been here for a long time.”
“I’ll supervise and do the specials myself. But you must have a list of applications on file for sous chefs. Or go to a job clearing house that has some. Find me people to interview ASAP.”
She clasped her hands on the table. “Don’t order me to do something, Garrick. I’m not one of your underlings.”
“Excuse me, Cassandra. I’m out of line. Will you please do that for me?”
“Yes, I will. But you’ve got to control your temper and not fire more people.”
“All right. I promise that I won’t…for a while.”
He left the office and his adrenaline subsided. He hoped like hell he could get through tonight without losing anyone else.
Chloe Masterson blew her dark bangs out of her eyes as she picked up the meals for table six. Oh, dear, they were garnished incorrectly. And one was overdone. This was a nice restaurant, so she alerted the right people, and had to wait, but she refused to serve subpar food.
Had she been the sous chef…no, she wouldn’t let her envy get the best of her. But someday…
After all her tables had been attended to, her phone rang. She headed to the corridor and sat on one of the chairs outside the kitchen. “Chloe Masterson.”
“Hi, Chloe. It’s Cassie.”
Her godmother. “Hi! So nice to hear from you.”
“It’ll be even nicer when I tell you I have a job opening for you. It’s a sous chef, sweetie.”
“Oh, my God.”
“The drawback is you’ll have to interview with the executive chef from hell. And he’s been here only two nights.”
“Chef Garrick! Wow! I watched his cooking show since I was in college.”
“He fired six people already.”
Chloe hated profiting off the misfortunes of others. But a chance to work with the Garrick? And her first sous chef position, though she had subbed for some and had plenty of experience in a kitchen in culinary school. “I can interview tomorrow.”
“Great. I’ll set it up with him. And don’t tell him we have a connection. No one here has to know that.”
“Are we doing something unethical?”
“Of course not. There’s just no reason to publicize that I went to college with your mother.”
“Whatever you say. Let me know the time.”
“I’ll arrange it now.”
When Chloe hung up, the manager came over. “Taking a call during your shift? That’s unlike you, dear.”
“I’m all caught up, and I’ll check the customers again right now.”
“You’re grinning. Was it good news?”
“I have an interview tomorrow for a sous chef position.”
Marcus smiled. She’d been honest with him since she came back to work here that she was looking for a chef’s job. She’d lost count of the years she’d worked at this restaurant off and on. “Aw, I’m glad. I’m sorry we couldn’t accommodate you.”
“Your kitchen staff is wonderful. And don’t worry, I’ll give my two-weeks-notice if I get the job.”
“Chloe, we have a huge roster of waiters and waitresses. Go ahead and take an offer right away.”
Chloe walked on air the rest of the night. Dear Lord, this was the break she needed and she was grateful for it.
“So, what qualifies you for this position, Ms. Masterson?”
The woman cocked her head, thoughtfully. “I’ve worked in restaurants since I was eighteen, paying my way through college and the culinary school. I know kitchens, and the jobs everyone does. And as part of our school curriculum, we interned in kitchens all over France.”
He noticed her eyes changed colors when she rose to the occasion. Instead of blue, they went a smoky gray. He looked down at her resumé. “I see. You went to the Cordon Bleu in France. But you’ve had the menial jobs in kitchens. No sous chef experience.” He checked her age. She was only 28.
“First off, I don’t think any job in a kitchen is menial. Every single one of them is necessary to a well-run routine. Second, I did sub as a sous chef more than once in various kitchens. With my educational experience, I’m qualified.”
Her confidence silenced him. But she was too young. Too pretty. However, she’d be the perfect student. He could teach her a lot.
“I’d like to work with you, Chef Garrick. I watched every season of your cooking show on the Food Network. I was sorry to see it end.”
Surprised, at first, then his gaze narrowed. “Flattery won’t get you the job.”
“I didn’t think it would. But you have a reputation of being hard to work with. I’ve seen you in action.” The shows went behind the scenes in kitchens. “I can handle you.”
He laughed. “Famous last words, but all right, Ms. Masterson, let’s give it a try. He checked his watch. “Not today, though. You can start tomorrow. Be here at 2 so we can talk before the staff arrives.”
“All right. You won’t regret this.”
“I won’t. If you’re incompetent, I’ll fire you without hesitation.”
“I’m not incompetent. You’ll see.”
“Well, don’t quit your waitress job just yet.”
“Attention, please.” When Chef Garrick spoke, the entire kitchen quieted. Really quieted, in a way no other kitchen Chloe had worked in.
“I’d like to introduce the first of our candidates for sous chef. This is Chloe Masterson. For now, you can call her Chloe.”
Aurora Charles, an old school friend, waved at her. A guy winked, but she didn’t know him. She saw Sammy, the son of her father’s friend, shift from one foot to another. “Hello, ev eryone.”
“She’s going to rehearse for sous chef today.” With a flourish of his hand, he said to her, “The stage, as they say, is all yours.”
He was trying to intimidate her with the temporariness of her position. She didn’t bite. From inside the pocket of her chef jacket, she pulled out nametags. “I’m going to ask each of you to put your names on these so when I come around and talk to you, I won’t have to ask. Besides I wouldn’t remember all of them by the end of the night.” She smiled. “Though I do know some of you.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Chef Garrick arch an eyebrow. She ignored him. “I’d like you to go about your jobs, and I’ll come to your workspaces.”
“We call them stations,” the guy who winked called out. “Since our celebrity chef came.”
She nodded. “All right, go to work at your stations.”
It took a few minutes to get markers and allow time for them to write out their names. As she waited, Garrick approached her. His onyx eyes sparkled in the overhead light. “You don’t like stations?”
“Actually, I do. It fits in with my philosophy.”
“How?”
“Because I think jobs in kitchens should be well-defined. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Chloe headed down to the first station, adjacent to the counter where completed dinners were placed. “Hi, Sammy. My dad and your dad were friends.” Sammy Smith was young but from the contact they’d had, he’d seemed like a hard worker.
“Hey, Chloe.” He checked to see if Garrick was watching, but the chef had gotten a phone call. “I can use a friend here. He fired two of my buddies yesterday.”
“Oh, dear.” She squeezed his arm. “All right, tell me what you do here.”
“I’m in charge of salads and desserts.”
She surveyed the counter. “You use only arugula?”
“Now we do. The chef changed the dinner salad from spring mix and other ingredients to making the house salad from arugula, pine nuts and feta cheese.”
“That sounds delicious. Especially with his exclusive salad dressing recipe. But do all patrons like the new one?”
“There were a lot of grumbles last night.”
“Did you tell him?”
“He went out to the floor. He should know.”
“I’ll ask about it. Maybe we can do both.”
“You’d better check this out with him.”
“I will, though maybe it’ll have to wait till I’m hired.”
“Man, I hope you get the job.”
She smiled and walked over to the steak grill. “Hi, Brody,” she said after reading his nametag. “As you know, I’m an interviewee. Did you apply for the sous chef?”
“I would have if they hadn’t brought in Atilla the Hun. As it is, I’m applying elsewhere.”
“Tell me about your station.”
“I do all the grilling of steak dishes. That’s about it.”
“Does it keep you busy?”
“On most nights.”
“Do you shuck the clams and oysters for the cold dishes?”
“We have a guy do that.”
She smiled and he smiled. He had chestnut colored eyes and blond hair. An interesting combination.
After she checked in with the meat station, and the sauce station, Chef Garrick came up to her before she reached the next station. “Enough of the socializing. I’d like to see you supervise a meal.”
She moved to the pasta station. “Is that okay with you, Aurora?”
“Of course, Chef.”
Aurora was smiling as she turned back to her dish. “I’m making Fettucine Alfredo. The order just came in. It’s a popular early bird dish.”
“How do you cook the pasta?” she asked as Aurora stirred the cream until it barely boiled.
“Al dente now.”
“Do all the patrons like that?”
She shot a quick glance at the executive chef who’d moved a bit away. “No.”
“Chef Garrick ordered it?”
“Yes.”
“What would you do?”
“Have the servers ask the patrons how they wanted their pasta cooked.”
“Good idea.” She leaned over. “I’ll just watch.”
“Correct me if I do anything wrong.”
Chloe didn’t have anything to correct. The sauce—made of cream and butter, combined with two cheeses—was still hot when she poured the mixture over noodles. She dropped a sprig of parsley on top, then handed the dish off to Maddie Jenkins, the woman who served up the orders.
“Good job, Aurora.”
“Let’s get together soon.” She squeezed Chloe’s hand. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
Aurora looked over at Garrick who leaned against a desk counter and had folded his arms over his chest. His dark hair looked tousled, like he’d run his hand through it. And he was frowning, of course. “I’d hug you but that glare cuts ice.”
“Which runs in his veins.”
Chloe crossed to him. “How’d I do?”
“Good on supervision of the pasta. You talked too long to the others.”
“I have some suggestions.”
“You’re kidding, right? You’re not even hired yet.”
“I thought you wanted to see what I’d be like as a chef. Don’t worry you don’t have to make them unless you agree.”
“I can’t wait to hear.”
When she finished with her suggestion about the salads, he sighed. “I’m not getting rid of the arugula, pine nut and feta salad.”
“You can offer a choice with the Mediterranean salad that’s been the usual fair.”
“What else?”
She told him about the al dente pasta.”
“That’s the way it should be made.”
“Customers who’ve been eating it here for years won’t be happy with that.”
“Perhaps the people you got these ideas from should find work under a less exacting chef.”
“Then you’d have eight people quit on you.”
“How do you know that?”
“I can tell you’re short-handed.”
“Ms. Keagan didn’t snitch on me during the interview?”
She frowned. “No, she didn’t tell me that. I calculated the number of people you’d need to fill this kitchen.”
“Well, we can start with you. You’re passable, and I need someone right away, so you’re hired.”
Joy surged through her. She’d waited a long time to get to a sous chef position, but all her patience and effort were paying off.
She hoped. She watched Garrick pick up the phone, probably to call Cassie. And prayed to the universe that she could work with a man like him. Damned if she’d try.
Chef Garrick waited in his office until everyone left, then went into his small bathroom, took off his chef coat and threw it into the laundry bag, then pulled on a t-shirt and a sweater over it. He changed into jeans and docksiders and donned a ball cap. He felt vaguely unhappy. Looking in the mirror, he said, “You chose the solitary life. Don’t complain to me.”
Still, it was a hell of a thing that he had nothing to do, nowhere to be, nobody to meet. And he didn’t want to go home, sleep and wake up the next day only to work again. So, he headed out of the kitchen, and the low rumble of voices and occasional shouts of glee from the casino floor followed him as he walked to the Table Games room and pulled open the heavy door. Though all the seats at the craps table were taken, the atmosphere was more subdued here. More serious, and Garrick liked serious. He had to wait to get in a game, so he watched the players, studying what went wrong.
A man dressed in a tux was winning. The woman with her hand on his back, wore a stunning black dress. He’d seen them in here occasionally, and they always looked amazing. When the man eventually cashed out, Garrick took his place. The croupier in charge of exchanging money for chips, called out, “Money coming in.” In that process, he took small denomination chips from a another and replaced them with a larger amount. This way the table wouldn’t run out of the lower ones.
Garrick traded a hundred dollars for the smaller chips
and made his come-out bet on the line. He threw the dice, which would stay with him until he rolled a craps or seven.
