A Loveless Meal

Chapter 4: His Smile

As soon as Vincent was out of sight, Rody sat at one of the tables and put his head in his hands.
He didn't really understand what Vincent meant. Not at all. And he really wasn't sure why things had escalated so much or why he'd talked about this with his boss in the first place.

But what he did know was that the last few hours at work were going to be tense and awkward now.

~~~~~~~~~~

And right he was. The chefs didn't know why Vincent was in a particularly foul mood all of a sudden, but each of them prayed that they remained as inconspicuous as possible until the end of shift, taking particular care to not mess up any dishes.

In the corner of the room, watching them all like a hawk, Vincent smoked a cigarette, his eyes narrowed and his face contorted into a scowl.

Absolute dumbass. Who does he think he is? He may be older than me, but considering the state of his life right now I'd say he's in no position to judge anything.
Scoffing to himself, he took another long drag from his cigarette. He didn't get why he was so pissed off. He'd never really cared what people thought of him in the past. And really, Rody hadn't even been talking about him in specific.

It was just so... Obnoxious.

If Vincent were to be totally honest with himself, it was probably just a sore topic for him. So many people seemed to have opinions about him. How he should live his life, run his restaurant, even how he should cook his food. Though he really had no idea what 'cooking it with love' meant or how he was expected to improve with such vague instructions. He prepared every recipe to a T, everything precisely correct. How is that not making it with love or care or whatever it is they're talking about? It didn't help that he couldn't taste the dishes to figure out what they're referring to.

Having to rely on other people's feedback or just his intuition had always rubbed him the wrong way in college and while he had become alot more self sufficient since then, he still found himself feeling self conscious at moments.  At any moment he could end up mixing up the salt and sugar, the cinnamon and cayenne, or any number of other vastly different flavor profiles and he'd never know till it made it to the customer.

Ever since opening his restaurant a few years ago, that worry had stayed in the back of his mind. He knew he would likely never make such a foolish mistake, he kept everything well labeled and he rarely even touched the food himself anymore, but he couldn't shake that feeling that it could happen at any time. And he hated it. All he could do is maintain his rigid control and discipline over organization, prep and every step of the cooking process to make sure nothing bad happened and everything turned out perfectly every time.

Vincent sighed deeply, then frowned. Rody's malaise must be rubbing off on me, he thought grimly, before flicking his cigarette into the bin. Rody already sighs enough as it is, he really didn't need to start joining in just because he was irritated.

He went back to watching the chefs, letting the sound of chef's yelling 'Behind!', 'Mise', and the occasional shouts of the cook running the pass soothe his mind. It was fine. Everything was fine. That conversation wasn't important nor worth remembering and everything was in it's place.

However, as always seemed to happen since Rody was hired, Vincent found himself once again irritated.
Two dishes had been put in the pass 5 minutes ago and he couldn't help but notice that they were STILL there.

Huffing and walking up to the window, he saw Rody spaced out while looking at the floor, a sullen look on his face.

Vincent's eye started twitching again. "This fuc- Oh m- ... RODY!"

Rody immediately straightened, his eyes snapping to the window, "Yeah, Vince?"

Vincent stared at him incredulously before gesturing at the dishes in the window, then the two-top table waiting for their appetizer and entree. "Rody, get the fucking order! It's dying on the pass! What am I paying you for?!"