Page 15 of Hot Hearts
From the collective gasps, one would’ve thought I said I’d murdered someone. Jess, my sous chef, clasps her hands over her mouth. Her eyes are wide with surprise.
“Why is this so shocking?”
Jess drops her hands back to the stainless steel counter. “Because you’re…you.” She waves a finger in the air as if that one word explains everything. By all the nods of agreement in the room, I guess it must.
“I am getting married, and it is to Slater Braxton.”
Another chorus of gasps sweeps around the room.
“The critic?” Jess’s mouth is agape. “With you?”
I clench my jaw in irritation. “I did not know that she was a food critic when we met, but I do now.”
“How will that work?” This comes from my pastry chef, who leans against the marble island that serves as his station with his beefy arms folded across his chest and a frown on his mouth.
“I was told that this is not the type of establishment she usually reviews, so there shouldn’t be a problem.”
“But if she’s part of the establishment, she doesn’t have the same independence that she did before,” he points out.
Terry, the head of the line prep, shakes his head. “Yeah, it’s like her reviews will be tainted because she’s an insider now. Before she was one of us, I mean, not us, but like one of the people.”
The whole kitchen starts murmuring about what a shame this is and how much they like Slater’s channel. The general consensus being that it’s a loss that Slater is marrying me. Apparently one million followers on TikTok is more impressive than maintaining a three-star Michelin rating.
“Slater’s TikTok account will not be preparing the meals tonight, so let’s get moving on the protein. Terry, run down that lamb. Gabby, please let Slater know that I’ve got a problem with prep and that I’ll call her when I have a free moment. Jess, come with me. We need to rework the menu.”
Everyone scatters at my orders. It’s time to get to work.
About ten minutes later, Gabby returns with a note in her hand. I flick it open and read the message.
I heard about your beef issues. Sad! I’ll stay out of your way. Come up whenever you’re done. xoxo
“She wrote this?” I ask Gabby. I’m not familiar with Slater’s handwriting other than the scrawl of her signature on her driver’s license, and while it looks nothing like this round printed lettering, I’m not an expert.
Gabby nods.
Slater doesn’t seem to be the type to write “Sad!” either, but it could be the pregnancy hormones. Again, not an expert. I don’t know what “xoxo” means.
I tuck the note in my pocket and shoo Gabby out of the kitchen. She has a tendency to linger back here. If she’s interested in cooking instead of serving, she should go to culinary school.
Jess and I finish making the changes and filling out a list of produce and fruits we’ll need to make the new lamb dish. Terry has secured enough lamb for forty dishes. I call Slater to see if she wants to make the supply run with me, but her phone skips right to voicemail. I don’t have time, but I run upstairs anyway to find the apartment empty. She probably went home to get her things.
I shoot off a text.
Call me.
I read it back. It seems abrupt. Should I add xoxo since that’s how she ended her note? Maybe I should come up with my own code phrase. What’s the name of her channel. Favorite Feeds? I type in FAFE and hit send.
Call me
FAFE
That looks good. Call me, Favorite Feeds. I tuck my phone away and head off for the supplier. It takes me an hour to pick everything up. By the time I’m back at The Plate, things are getting more hectic as service nears. I need to roast the lamb and prepare the sauce. Even though I don’t have the time, I run upstairs again to check on Slater, who has not responded to my text.
The apartment is still empty. My phone is silent. Another text won’t hurry her response. I’ll talk to her later tonight about how, as my wife, she needs to reply to my texts.
She’s never been married before nor had sex, so she just doesn’t understand how these things work. I’ll be patient and let this slide. Clear lines of communication are how the kitchen works smoothly. It’s reasonable that Slater, being a customer, doesn’t understand this.
Service goes smoothly. Everyone loves the lamb. We celebrate an anniversary and two birthdays, and once thekitchen and front of the house is spotless, the staff goes home happy.
