Page 38 of Culinary Chaos
Bowen looked at her nervously. He should. The kid was just a kid, not old enough or anywhere near experienced enough to be in charge of a kitchen. He had no formal training and yet was supposed to be cooking classically French food every day. The poor kid had no idea what he’d just said, did he?
“Uh… the uh… owners…”
God, he was stumbling over every word, and Hope just needed him to spit it out again.
“They uh… they want us to cook like this.”
Hope let that shockwave roll right through her, expecting it this time. The kitchen was a disaster, she’d seen that the moment she’d stepped into the restaurant, but now that they’d started filming, and she’d finally had a chance to talk to the staff, she realized this wasn’t entirely their fault.
They were set up for failure.
Massive, all-encompassing, disastrous failure.
And she wasn’t going to fire a single one of them.
Hope jerked with a start, the door to the kitchen slamming loudly. She spun toward it, finding Angelica stalking toward her, anger written all over her face, her shoulders tight, and her jaw clenched. Shit, was this when they were supposed to argue about firing everyone?
Well, at least it’d be a real argument this time.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Angelica started out, her voice echoing.
“I’m running the kitchen.” Hope pressed her fists to her hips and glared back at Angelica. She wanted to find Rex in the sea of crew members, see if she was doing this right, if she was finding the balance that they wanted her to find, but she held her ground and kept her gaze locked on Angelica’s forcibly angry face. “Which ismyarea of expertise, not yours.”
“We agreed that we were wiping the slate clean, starting fresh.” Angelica pressed her palm onto the stainless steel countertop, leaning over it slightly as if to get into Hope’s face even more than before. “You haven’t done that yet.”
“I haven’t.” Hope clenched her jaw, mimicking Angelica’s pose. Two could play this game, and that was exactly what they had signed up for. “And I’m not going to.”
She made sure to lock her gaze on Angelica’s. Would Angelica be able to tell that Hope actually meant what she was saying?
“The restaurant’s the problem. It needs a complete overhaul to be functional. They—” Angelica pointed wildly to the few staff that had managed to stick through everything so far “—don’t have the skills to do this.”
“No, they don’t!” Hope dropped her shoulder slightly. Maybe Angelica did finally understand what she was saying. “And they haven’t ever been given them.”
“You think you’re going to train them up in a week?” Angelica snorted. “Don’t overestimate your abilities.”
That was a dirty dig if Hope had ever heard one. They hadn’t talked about how hard-hitting the insults would be, but Hope hadn’t been expecting that one. She probably should have. Angelica was ruthless. And there was some truth to that. One week wasn’t going to replace years of training and education.
“Don’t ever underestimate me.” Hope dropped her voice low, to a dangerous tone, one that should be setting off warning bells.
But it didn’t seem to be. Angelica leaned in even more, only inches from where Hope was standing. If Hope focused, she could feel Angelica’s breath against her cheeks, her face. Her stomach tightened, her entire body in tune with what was going to happen next. She lowered her gaze to Angelica’s lips, slightly parted, the full lower one and the upper one that was curved like a bow but so thin right in the middle, like it almost wasn’t even there. But Angelica’s lipstick hid it well, the makeup artists truly artists.
“Fire them,” Angelica repeated.
“No,” Hope answered, her heart picking up speed. “I won’t throw them to the wolves out there when we should be dealing with the wolves in here.”
“Wolves?” Angelica shook her head, her golden curls bouncing against her shoulders in her confusion.
“John and Nova.” Hope pointed her finger into the countertop. “They’re the problem. Not my staff in here.”
Angelica snorted and shook her head. “Your staff can’t cook.”
“They’ve been thrust into positions they weren’t ready for,” Hope agreed, wondering briefly why Angelica’s lips pushed together at that comment, but she barreled forward. “But they’re being forced to cook with prepackaged food, old frozen meals, and with so little staff that no one could possibly succeed. Theissues in here are bigger than just in here. Andyouneed to get your head out of your ass and realize that.”
Satisfaction rolled through her at that comment. It was a good comeback for the bomb that Angelica had lobbed at her earlier.
“Customers can hear you.” John stepped inside, a worried look on his face.
Customers?Hope pinched her face. There was no one out in the dining room waiting on food. It was barely ten in the morning, and they didn’t open for lunch for another hour.
