𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔

-7-

[ᴊᴀᴄᴋ]
_

The pan sizzled and created steam so hot it made me sweat. I tossed the pan, setting it back on the stove. I'm so deep in my thoughts that someone else had to grip me away from that.

"Boss, the mushroom chowder." I looked at Harper, my sous chef, and he pointed at the stove to the left of me. On it is a pot boiling over.

"Ah shit." I cut the stove off and marched over to the chowder. I took the towel from my shoulder and used it to take the pot cover off.

"Heads up!" I pull in to allow another one of my workers pass. I chucked the pan cover to the side and turned the stove off.

"Fuck." Harper handed me his cloth and I used it and mine to transfer the pot to the sink. I overcooked it. To mention, I have a table of five waiting on this. 

"You alright, boss? You haven't been on your A game tonight." He asks, his Italian accent heavy on his tongue.

"I'm fine."

"You sure? Because this is the fourth pot you've done messed up." He points out. And it is. Only the stuff I make has been sent back to the chicken. Either too hot, too cold, overcooked or fucking undercooked.

I hand Harper his towel back and went to the sink. I washed my hands and strutt my way to the front with him as my shadow.

"I'm fine, Harper, I promise. Just get the food out."

"A-and your tone, it's not like you to be all blue. But the zoning out is pretty familiar." I walked from behind the corner, gazing at the restaurant in front of me. It's therapeutic to switch from chaos and heat in the back to silent chatter and central air to the front.

"You're my sous Harper. You watch and lead the kitchen when I'm not there." I inform him.

"Yeah, I know that, but

I stopped and clasped my hands together. "Finny, I appreciate you checking up on me as much as you point out my fuck ups, but right now I don't want to talk alright? Just go watch your kitchen." I pat him on the shoulder and sent him a smile.

I turned on my heel, and my smile dropped as I heaved an irritated sigh. I pinch the bridge of my nose and make my way to table fourteen, the table that ordered the mushroom chowder, a dish from the specials list.

Sitting at the table are five females all dressed for an occasion. They were all smiles, still drinking their beverages as they were still waiting for their food.

My brain has been clouded with what happened this morning with Amy. I want to know why she suddenly cried and then pulled away from me. I probably shouldn't think about it that hard, but to be honest, I've grown attached to her over the years.

Not to mention her being the mother of our child, so I have to be concerned about her and make sure she's okay. Otherwise, what father and friend would I be?

I stopped at the table and plastered a smile on my face. All five of them looked at me and with curiosity and confusion.

What struck me to the core, however, is that one of the girls is Miami. Her brown eyes widened, and she fixed her posture.

Her hair is braided in red knotless braids that match her red outfit. My stomach opened, and I nearly walked right back to the kitchen.

I haven't seen Miami in years, so to see her so suddenly stunned me. The last time I had seen her, though, was at Madeline's wedding. I couldn't believe she had actually shown up there.

She apologized and had begged we worked things out, but I couldn't do so.

"Goodnight, ladies, I am head chef and owner of Viva La Food, and I am the one responsible for your dish tonight. I just came out to say that I overcooked your meal by just a few minutes and since the meal takes half an hour itself to make I didn't want my guests waiting another thirty minutes so I am coming to the five of you beautiful ladies directly to ask if you would maybe want a change in dishes and I'll have my team as well as I work on that quickly for you. And you will also be discounted for having to wait so long."

There was a bit of silence as I waited for them to accept the offer.

"Aww, but I heard the stew is really good." One of them whined.

"Yeah, we wanted the stew." A more aggressive one. I could see it in her body structure and hear it in her tone.

"Damn, twenty minutes just to get nothing is crazy."

Ah crap, five black girls and all of them are hungry is just not a good storm to be in.

"I ain't eating nothing else. I want to try the stew."

"Yeah, but then we'd have to wait another thirty minutes, Keri, and I ain't waiting another thirty minutes. It den cost us like forty dollars."

Miami was staring at me the entire time as her friends complained.

"What about you, Miami? What are we doing? We hopping somewhere else or what?"

Miami cleared her throat and decided to save my ass tonight.

"It's fine, girls, Jack would have you all straight."

All of them shot her a look and then gazed at me. The boisterous one was the first to catch on.

"Oh wait a minute, ya'll, this that nigga she been telling us 'bout."

Keri, the only name I caught, gasped and looked at me.

"Shut up."

"Oh, so you the Jack we been hearing so much about." A girl with platinum dyed hair says with a grin. So she's been talking about me, even after everything she did?

"Ya'll missing the part where he literally said he's the head chef and owner of this joint."

Miami cracks a smile, but I know that smile. She's blushing.

"So we could get free food, is what you saying?" Another one of them asks. And finally, Miami spoke again.

"Let's not push it, ya'll. He's running a business here, alright. But Jack is an amazing cook, even if we choose something else we'll still eat good."

"Ooohh bitch of course you would know. I'm siding with Mi."

"Kiara, you always siding with someone when you want free shit."

"Okay and?"

"Girls," Miami interrupts. "What are you all getting?"

"We don't have a dang menu anymore." Kiara points out.

I sighed. "How about the Cajun shrimp pasta? It won't take that long to make, and for your next visit, you will get your mushroom chowder on the house."

Kiara was the start of the yes train. "Sounds good to me."

"Alright."

"Sure."

They all agreed, and I nodded, shooting Miami one last look before leaving their table. I could hear their teasing squeals as I walked back to the heat and fast-paced kitchen.

It's hard running a business at first, but over the past five years, I've grown used to it.

"How'd it go?" Harper asks.

"Change of dish, Cajun Shrimp Pasta."

"Ohh, nice save boss."

Yeah. Nice save.

~