Secure.
Not the doormat any longer.
I loved my hair, despite it being apain in the ass. I was happy with the weight I’d gained, with the progress I’dmade.
“Coming,” I hollered back at Vann.Turning the cold water on, I splashed water on my face and then spent asignificant amount of time washing my hands.
I turned back to the kitchen andexperienced a renewed sense of peace, a sense of being home, the thrill ofanticipation and bite of nerves. I let those mixed feelings wash over me,mingling into a healing balm that I would never get enough of.
Cooking was the thing that saved mebefore, and this kitchen was going to be what saved me now.
Ignoring the orders Vann was stilltaking, I grabbed at the first ticket, glanced at it and got to work. I had filledthree orders before I started handing them out the window.
The people waiting stood in friendlycomradery, laughing at inside jokes and commiserating over their brutal night.
“He’s a beast,” a tiny woman with alip ring growled. Her dark blue hair was cut in a hip pixie style, with shavedlines etched into the sides. I was instantly intimidated. She was way too coolfor me.
A tall, lanky guy with full sleevetattoos that reached all the way to his ears countered with, “He’s the best.”
“And he knows it,” the woman argued.“He’s a nightmare to work for.”
“Nobody’s making you stay,” anotherguy laughed. He was thick, built like a linebacker. His hair was hidden behinda black bandana, and huge gauges stretch his earlobes big enough to make mewince. “I hearApplebeesis hiring.”
The woman glared at him, and Idangled their food out the window before they noticed I was eavesdropping.“Grilled cheese?”
The huge guy stepped up with a tightsmile. “That’s me.”
I reached back for the two pulledpork orders. “These must be yours.” The tall guy and the short girl stepped upnext.
“You know I’m not going anywhere,”the girl continued their conversation. “I just like to bitch.”
Both of the guys mumbled, “We know,”at the same time.
I got back to work, filling the nextthree orders. When I turned back to the window to hand them off, the tall guy wasstanding close by, waiting for me. His food was only half gone, and he held itclose to his face, inspecting it thoroughly.
I called out the orders, handed themoff and then turned to him. “Is there something wrong?”
His gaze bounced up to mine and I sawsurprise written all over his features. “It’s good.”
My mouth dropped open at the tone inhis voice. He was really surprised. Genuinely shocked.
“I mean, it’s really good,” herepeated.
“Thanks?” What was this guy’sproblem? It sounded like a compliment, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t even close.
He must have seen the sneer on myface because he laughed a little and stepped closer to me. “I didn’t mean tooffend you, I just wasn’t sure what to think.”
I started to say something about howthe food I made wasn’t anything especially difficult, but, “You were expectinggarbage?” came out instead.
“I was expecting grease and cookingone oh one.” I wanted to stay pissed at him, but his expression was so open andhonest that I couldn’t hate him after all. “You know what you’re doing.”
Not wanting to get his expectationsup, I said, “For a food truck maybe.”
He smiled at me. “He’s going to hateyou even more now.”
“Who?” I asked, even while dreadcurdled my insides and my gaze jumped toLilouinvoluntarily.
He smiled wider and held up hisbasket. “Thanks for the meal.” Turning his back on me, he joined the rest ofhis friends or peers or whatever. They all talked animatedly and laughedloudly, but no one else came back to compliment my food.
