Mr. Fake Right

Chapter 1

Tavi

“Where the hell is my onion jam?!”

“Coming up, chef!” I yell back.

“Behind!” I call as I place the hot pan on the line.

Chef Colson, my head chef, tastes the caramelized onions before nodding his head in approval. “Tastes good. Plate it for me.”

I take that compliment to heart, and continue pushing myself throughout the dinner service.         

***

“Carla, your tomato soup is too strong! It needs more cream. Take it off the heat!” I yell as I pass through the sauce station.

“Yes, chef!”

“Marco, this needs more salt!”

I stop suddenly at the meat and fish station when I notice one of our line cooks using a burnt beef tallow.

“Max, that tallow better be fresh! We got our first Michelin star, we’re not going to lose it over a careless mistake! Fix it, please!”

“Heard, chef!”

As the sous-chef, it’s my responsibility to make sure the food that comes on the line is faultless, and that it keeps moving.

I heave a sigh of relief when I get back to my station, which is garnishing. I snap my head around as I feel someone looking at me. Chef Colson smiles, approval all over his face.

As the last order for service goes out, everyone takes a breath and soaks in the quiet. No more than a moment passes before Chef Colson calls our attention.

“Alright, everyone, it’s time to clean up, and then we can call it a night.”

It takes another hour, and everyone goes home, leaving Chef Colson and me alone.

***

I jot furiously on my notebook about techniques I can utilize and other systems I can implement for a more efficient kitchen. Then suddenly, a hand appears, pressing down on it.

“Real funny, Colson,” I say mockingly as I tilt my head up.

He shakes his head before flicking my forehead.

“Ow! Hey! What gives?” I protest.

“Join me for a smoke,” he invites as he walks toward the exit.

“You know I don’t smoke,” I say, frowning.

“Come on, Tavi,” he insists.

Shrugging, I follow him outside, picking up my stuff on the way. I don’t know what he wants, but I know he doesn’t mean any harm. He’s the closest thing to an older brother I’ve got.

When I step out of the restaurant, I wrap my arms around myself as the warmth of the night startles me. I look around. Usually, Hollywood Avenue is bustling until late into the night, but now, it’s devoid of noise.

“Well,” Colson, who’s already seated on the curb, breaks the silence.

I shift my gaze to him, and he raises his brow.

Rolling my eyes, I take the spot next to him. “So, what is it?” I ask, eager to get to the point.

He chuckles. “Geez, always in such a hurry.”

I shrug as I stretch my legs.

“You’re always running at a hundred miles an hour. You think that’s good for you?” he asks as he lights his cigarette.

“Well, isn’t it a waste of time if we do otherwise? I’m not getting any younger,” I say, fanning the smoke away.

“You’re only twenty-six, Tavi. You have the whole world ahead of you…” he falters for a moment. “But you’re not going to see half of it if you’re so focused on running through the entire thing!” he exclaims as he bumps my shoulder playfully.

I frown. “But if I slow down, then I won’t make it to where I want to go.”

“Can you get there if you walk?” he snickers.

“Not as fast as if I run,” I reply.

“But aren’t you going to get there anyway?” he insists.

That question makes me stop, and I don’t know why, but it stirs up something within me.

Silence falls for a while.

I sigh. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Then don’t be afraid to slow down for a walk when you need to. I’m not only saying this because I’m your head chef,” he says. “I’m also saying this because I’m your friend.”

I remain silent, staring at the sky.

“And the last thing I want is to see you passed out on my kitchen floor. Understand?” Colson adds.

I try to protest again, but as soon as I shift my gaze to him, all I can see is the seriousness in his expression.

“I’ll… I’ll try to slow it down,” I reply, nodding my head.

“Good. I want you to keep an eye on yourself as well,” he says.

“Aw, you love me that much, Colson?” I taunt as I punch him in the shoulder, trying to ease the tension.

“I love you enough to give you potatoes to peel tomorrow if you don’t take this shit seriously, Tavi,” he prods as he tousles my hair aggressively.

I stick my tongue out before I stand up, dusting myself off.

“Are you heading home, kid?” Colson asks.

“Yeah… I have to rest as you say,” I reply casually.

“You better!” he shouts before going back inside the restaurant.

I settle myself in the driver’s seat and start the engine. 

During the ride, I ponder over the events of the day.

Chef Colson’s words still stick with me. All I can think about is how slowing down makes sense, and how it would affect me if I keep rushing through things. But I know I’m not the most naturally talented chef, so I have to get by with hard work.

I can’t afford to stop.

Out the window, the lights from the buildings spread before me, anticipating what tomorrow brings.