Page 50 of Strike
“We’re fully booked,” she said, flipping her hair back over her shoulder.
“Oh, no, I’m here to see Hector. He’s expecting me.” I pointed to myself. “Callie Winslow.”
The hostess blinked at me, not looking very impressed. “Just one moment.”
Ugh. Would I ever get over my insecurities? Fiddling with the strap of my handbag, I watched as she disappeared into the kitchen. What kind of job was Hector talking about? Did he want me to work in the kitchen here? I had my own shop to think about, and taking on an apprenticeship seemed like a pretty large step back.
When the hostess returned, she pouted and said, “This way, please.”
Following her through the restaurant, she opened the kitchen door for me and ushered me inside. Within the staff-only area, it was a complete sensory overload. Hustle and bustle had nothing on the chaos that sat inches from the calm and delicate restaurant where people were currently enjoying their artfully arranged lunch.
Recognizing Hector by a stove, I approached him, forgetting about the haughty hostess entirely. He was very tall with a shaved head, pale skin, and a certainflairabout him. He was known for his eccentricity, and everything he touched turned into an elaborate theatrical presentation. There was a reason he was a celebrity chef.
“Callie!” he exclaimed when he saw me. “So good to see you!”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I replied, peering curiously at the stove. He was cooking something sweet, the scent of caramel becoming stronger the closer I came. Even though we’d just met, he welcomed me like an old friend, and it put me at ease.
“Here, taste this.” He grabbed a teaspoon and dipped it into the steaming pot of sauce. Holding it over his hand, he blew on it before moving it toward me. “Careful, it’s hot.”
Not sure what to do, I awkwardly let him hold the spoon to my lips. Tasting the sauce, my eyebrows rose. Caramel with hints of cinnamon.
“Classic, yes?”
I nodded. “Brown sugar, butter, cinnamon, and vanilla.”
“I thought it was only fair I brushed up on my dessert skills before I met you.” He smiled and turned the heat off. Clicking his fingers, a member of the kitchen staff came running and grabbed the pot as he guided me through the maze of prep areas. “Now, let’s find a quiet spot and have a chat.”
Glancing around me, I wondered where that would be. The restaurant was in full swing with its lunch sitting. Chefs and kitchen hands were running back and forth, shouting orders and bashing pots and pans furiously as they plated up. Outside, punters were talking loudly, the din almost too much to handle. Corks were popping off the top of wine bottles, glasses were clinking, and laughter abounded, and as Hector led me through it, my head spun. This was how a real-life successful restaurant looked.
We sat at a table by the window, set apart in a little alcove. It was shielded just enough that the noise from the restaurant was muffled slightly.
“Tell me, Callie, is food your passion?”
“Desserts are,” I replied. “Ever since I was a little girl.”
“And what is your favorite thing about desserts?” He waited patiently, and I wondered what he wanted to hear.
“They bring people together,” I said, just saying what I believed. “They make people happy. That’s a great thing. If it tastes amazing, then even better.”
Hector laughed, looking pleased as punch. “You’re right, you know. Food is all about sustenance. We need to eat to survive, but who said it couldn’t taste great? Art is everywhere, and you and I are artists.”
“Your food is certainly an inspiration,” I said in agreement.
“Why thank you, my dear. Now, you must be wondering what all this is about.”
“Yeah, I was a little surprised to receive your message.”
“I’m truly sorry to hear what happened to you and your shop,” he went on. “I’m so glad you’re okay and it is being rebuilt. Such an inspiration.”
“I just did what had to be done.” I shrugged.
He smiled mysteriously and then became rather animated. “To hell with it! I’m just going to say it. I want to work with you, Callie.”
I blinked, suddenly overcome with shyness.
“I have a string of restaurants all over the world,” he continued. “We specialize in theater. Every meal is an event, designed specifically to delight and amaze, not just through taste and delicious food but a total sensory experience. Your mind, your ideas, your creations. I want you to bake for me, Callie. Help me develop desserts for my restaurants, teach my staff, learn from me, and I’ll take you right to the top.”
I stared at him blankly, completely overwhelmed by his speech. “The top of what?”
