In Our Image: The Hollow

Chapter Ten

Guess it's time to get the show on the road, no point in walking around sulking and bitching, Clair has made her decision. By the time I get to the Sycamore it is already pretty busy, great... means the kitchen is nice and backed up.

The Quintons have long controlled and used The Hollow as their day to day operations. It provides a great source of income for the sect but also a steady supply of blood and a cover to blend into Salem. For us it's the Sycamore, a historical restaurant that has sat outside of Salem for... a very long time. It is a landmark in the area and people drive from miles around to dine with us.

It is a black tie establishment with well to do customers. We are frequented by local celebrities and even politicians make their rounds to the Sycamore for the best French cuisine in the west. I enter through the back door of the stainless steel clad kitchen, the moment I walk in noise pours over me.

Fuck me, what's going on here...

I walk past one of the ovens and smell the burning; I see Lacey and Tara running around frantically.

"Trouble with the Tarte tatin?" I ask while peering into the oven.

"Piss off Jude." Lacey spouts as she fumbles for the mitt and removes the pan.

"You've over baked the apples." I give one last jab before turning and heading towards the dish sink.

Tara yells at me as I smile and continue on, "This is your job anyway you shit!"

I reach the large sink where the dishes are cleaned; Trevor is already there with a stack of plates. I remove my long sleeve shirt and tie an apron around my waist to begin.

"Bullshit that it was Tara and Lacey's idea to go to The Hollow in the first place but we get stuck doing the shit work." Trevor complains as he sprays a bowl of Cassoulet clean with the high pressure washer.

A cluttering can be heard over the water and clanking of dishware, then Tara's voice rings out.

"Fuck!"

I smile back at Trevor, "I don't know Trev, sounds like we have the easy work. Doing dishes, pain in the ass yes but the pressure of the kitchen... that's no joke."

After a few more profanities from the kitchen and wait-staff poking in wondering where orders are, I realize we're in trouble.

One of our female resident waitresses walks in, "Guys what's going on in here? Table seven is waiting on the half loaf of Brioche, table three is missing two Beef Bourguignon and nine sent back the Cassoulet because they ordered duck not beef."

There is arguing back and forth before I have to step in. I look over at Trevor who is looking back at me with a knowing glare.

"Go man, I got this." He says nodding to the kitchen.

I dart for the kitchen untying my apron and setting it on a table as I approach Lacey and Tara. They look at me with pleading and thankful eyes as I begin washing my hands and preparing to go to work.

"Okay listen, we're slammed and behind, just do exactly what I say and we got this. Lacey, with me, Tara, go out and tell Hannah to give a complimentary bottle of wine to the waiting tables. Aim for the back of the cellar, a white... go for a Sancerre if Clair has them stocked."

Tara and Lacey look at me with relived eyes as I suit up so to speak and do what I do best, cook.

I know Clair said dish duty, but she'd be even more pissed if we lost customers or ended up with bad reviews online. I'll just have to do what Trevor doesn't later.