Page 12 of Heart Stopping
She laughed and hurried to clean it up while I went back to stirring. "So, you think I can do it?"
"Iknowyou can," I said. "Are you thinking of leaving me?"
The expression of surprise on her face said she hadn't thought of that.
"I was hoping I could apprentice here," she said. "Between learning from you, and the culinary school two blocks over, I think I can learn everything I need."
She could do worse. I taught a few classes there myself from time to time. Their training was excellent. Of course, nothing compared to learning on the job, like I had with my father when he was still alive.
"If you want to train me, that is," she added quickly, her green-gold eyes now tentative. "I know I can be a handful."
I shook my head at her. "I'd be happy to train you. You're no more of a handful than anyone else I've trained." All two of them.
They'd both gone on to work at high-end resorts, probably making more money than I did. I was okay with that. I preferred to be my own boss anyway.
Besides, if I worked for someone else, it might be difficult to explain where some of the meat came from.
She let out a pleased squeak and gave me a sideways hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"Yeah, yeah." I extricated myself from the hug and gestured to the other side of the kitchen. "You can start on making some more ice cream."
"Yes, chef." She saluted me before heading over and pulling the ingredients out of the fridge to make our semi-famous rumand raisin ice cream. Which was made with real rum and real raisins, nothing…unusual.
That reminded me of the meatballs. I stepped over to check the spaghetti, which hung on a rack to dry. I didn't really need to; I could make pasta in my sleep. I'd been doing it since I was five years old. First with my father in his restaurant, then with my mother at home.
"We have orders." Gina pinned them to the board and hurried away to pour water for the first of the lunch crowd.
I glanced at them before pulling spaghetti from the rack and tossing it into gently boiling water. A couple of minutes to cook and I tossed the pasta into bowls, added meatballs and topped them with sauce, before placing them for Gina to take to the customers.
I had to agree with Erin, they did smell good. Although, I could rarely bring myself to eat the meat I sourced myself. Dispensing of it was one thing, knowing what the 'animal' did was another.
Not that being an asshole was contagious, much less able to be transferred by mouth.
Still…
Gina grabbed the bowls and carried them over to the table. Smiling, she placed them in front of the customers.
"There you go!" She smiled and stepped away.
They retuned her smile and started to eat.
"Oh my God, this is delicious," one of them moaned.
"So good," the other agreed.
I turned away to start on the risotto and ravioli ordered by another couple of customers. The irony of watching the ravioli disappear under the water before it cooked wasn't lost on me.
Bye, Gary.
"I can't wait to make people moan like that," Erin said, looking out wistfully.
I glanced over and laughed softly. "How many times have you made that ice cream? They always moan over that." I jerked my head over to where the machine was happily turning away.
"But that's ice cream," she said. "Making everything else the way you do, that's what I want to learn."
I was certain she didn't want to learn to doeverythingthe way I did. At nineteen, she was still relatively innocent. I wasn't going to shatter that for her. If she knew what I got up to at night, she'd probably be horrified.
I was, and I was the one doing it. I'd vomited the first time, but couldn't bring myself to stop. Not when I knew I was doing good in the world. As long as I stuck to people who deserved it, that would keep me this side of being a monster. Right?
