𝐅𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓; G. Ramsay

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

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THE DINING ROOM was about half full.

Customers lingered around the bar, others slumped in the seats picking at their foods.

Gordon eyed the tables with a narrowed stare from behind the kitchen window. His arms were crossed over his chest with disapproval.

I stood beside him, waiting for my tables food to come out of the window. It was taking forever, and I've already gotten two complaints from the same table on a messed up first order.

"Rick, this poor server has been waiting here for ten minuets, talk to me, what's going on?" Gordon asked, finally speaking after watching.

Rick glared down at the pan he was frying the frozen chicken in. Gordon wasn't going to get a peep out of him. It's just how Rick is.

"Hello?" Gordon quipped, raising his brow up.

"There's no point, he's not gonna answer." I shook my head. A heavy sigh escaped my lips, and I kept my hands on my hips with frustration. It helped me to keep my chest open and breathe, instead of throwing a hand and snapping off on somebody.

"What? He can't not talk in a kitchen. There has to be communication." He looked down at me.
A soft chortle escaped my lips, and I stole a glance at Gordon. "Yeah, well, Rick doesn't."

Rick grunted down at the food after listening to us, and continued to cook other things at the same time, messily.

"If he does open his mouth, it's to talk back, or shit talk." I narrowed my eyes onto Rick's back.
There was a tiny bleach stain on his right shoulder blade.

Gordon let out a quick sigh, and regained his stature.
"Go check on your table, and tell them you'll comp their drinks." He told me.
I nodded, feeling my nerves rattle.

"Come back in here after that, and I'll make sure you get your food, love."

My heart practically jumped at the name.
With a hesitant nod, I spun on my heel and walked back out to the dining room.

I'm pretty sure I can hear some yelling from the kitchen, but I choose to ignore it.

I make my way up to the couple's table, where an obviously irritated man sits across from his bland wife.
"Hi," I started out with an anxious smile, "I'm really sorry that it's taking so long, but we just wanted to make sure everything was done right. But I am going to comp your wine for you." A pressured smile stayed on my lips.

I hope that they don't freak out.
I've had just about enough of the rude customers tonight.

I really almost dumped somebody's drink over their heads for being an asshole to me.

"It's okay!" The women waved her hand at me, "Thank you. We know it's not your fault."

I let out a laugh of relief, and leaned back. "Thanks for understanding, allot of people like taking it out on me." I had to be honest.

Maybe they'll play the pity game, and give me extra tips for trying.

"I just waitress, like, I don't cook it." I joked.
They both gave me a soft chuckle, and enjoyed my company. "Anyways, I'll be right back for your food, guys."

I walked back into the kitchen and sighed, feeling a set of eyes on me.
"What happened? It looked like it went well, yeah?" Gordon asked me eagerly.

I nodded, showing off a small smile.
And suddenly my knees went weak, and my heart beat faster.

After watching him for years on TV, I never thought I'd get the chance to be face to face with him.
It's like a damn dream come true.
And not only because were helping the restaurant.

"They were nice about it after I comped them." I finally spit out, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.
My eyes grazed the window for my food, eyeing the plate with a large pile of chicken Alfredo on it.

"Good, now go take that out, and give them some extra bread." Gordon handed me a bread plate, and placed two slices of bread on it for me.
I smiled thankfully up at him, and nodded.

"Thank you," I managed to get out of my mouth. My shaking hands grabbed my plate of Alfredo.

I can smell the cheap ingredients Rick used to make it with. I was used to the smell; it was our number one selling dish here.

Why? I hadn't a clue.
It was disgusting. These people have no taste.

I reached the table, and placed the new plate of pasta in front of the irritable man. "Here you go, sir. Again, I'm really sorry about everything. I hope everything tastes okay with this one." My smile read apologetic, and I hoped he got that memo.

He nodded, showing off a fake grin in return. "Yeah, me too."

My lips dropped back down to a faint look, but his wife interrupted the stale air.
"Thank you, dear. I'm sure it'll be much better."

"Enjoy."
My smile came back, and I nodded, walking off.

Gordon shot me a smile from the kitchen, and I couldn't help but smile back.

I could really get used to him being here; too bad it's not for long.

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