Yes, Chef

Chapter 4: Simmering

~Benedict's POV~

"I can't believe Rod lit you up!" Jamie, my pastry chef, says gleefully.

"Yeah, yeah. It wouldn't be the first time. Probably won't be the last." I mutter as I run through a mental checklist of tasks I hope to accomplish during moments of downtime.

Everyone still working for me at this point knows my situation, at least at a surface level. They've all, at one point or another, been a victim of my ire and I'm damn lucky I haven't driven them all off yet. We're operating on a minimum bare bones staff as is but also business has dipped a bit because of the incident that landed me in jail.

I'm hoping if I can get the help I need and lay low for a bit, it'll blow over. My aunt's friend, lover, whatever the hell he is offered to help me with some PR once I no longer have this mandate hanging over my head. He's actually the one who put me in touch with Mads.

Mads. I fucking almost lost it on her tonight. I just couldn't let it go, her being late. And the second she put blame on me for the shitty tone of our conversation, I wanted out. I've spent the better part of my life being blamed for things that weren't under my control. I couldn't take it.

But thank fucking God, Rod called me on my bullshit and dragged my ass back in there after tuning me up. I'd have been groveling once I realized how fucked I would be without her. It's stupid right because we haven't actually had a session yet but I know she's the one who's going to get me out of this pattern. I can just tell.

I mean first she didn't totally write me off when I freaked about doing the sessions here. She had the idea of the tattoo shop. Then she's willing to work with whatever schedule I need. Doesn't she have a full-time job? A boyfriend? Fuck, even like a pet she needs to walk or feed? I'm so damn curious about her but she's rigid about sharing any personal details of her life.

And believe me I've tried to crack her. Even today I prompted twice about a potential boyfriend and she managed to not answer me both times. Rude. Not that it matters but like I want to know her. Maybe it's a reciprocity thing. She's about to delve into my personal life, I should get a similar view of hers.

"Chef? Chef? BENNIE!" I hear someone beckoning me.

"What's up?" I ask, zoning back into the present.

Kurt, my sous chef, is standing in front of me with what looks like a full red snapper. In his giant hands, the damn thing looks like a guppy. Wait...the fish was supposed to be halibut!

"The fuck?" I question.

"So you didn't order this change?" He asks, looking nervous.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I curse loudly. The supplier we've been forced to work with due to costs and lost social capital keeps on fucking up in what they tell us is on hand and what gets delivered.

"I'll make a call." Kurt responds quietly.

"We're just going to make due tonight but make sure someone is held accountable for this bullshit. It can't keep happening." I instill.

"Yes chef." He says and returns to his work.

I pull up the menu real quick and start modifying. Thankfully it's not a massive deviation but enough that we'll need a little more prep.

"Opening in five." Brenna, my front of house coordinator, calls out to the kitchen staff. She approaches me cautiously.

"We are swapping the fish special for tonight. Fuckers delivered snapper in place of halibut." I inform her.