At least I hoped I could.
For a split second, I thought about sticking around and waiting for Wyatt or going to Ezra to ask what he thought. Shaking those wild thoughts out of my head, I jogged back to my car and slid into the driver’s seat again.
There was no point. Vann had given good advice and I found I was anxious to see what happened.
Seven
By the timeI’d driven across town to Bianca, I had lost the positive attitude I claimed after talking to Vann. I walked into Bianca feeling freshly defeated.
It took some kind of special determination to fire someone, to take away their hopes and dreams and kick them out on the streets. And, honestly, I didn’t think I had it in me.
Then what are you doing here? a small voice whispered inside me.
It was a valid question. One that I took a few minutes to ponder.
Ignoring the staff that had managed to be on time today, I trudged back to my office and threw my purse on the desk. What was I doing here?
If I couldn’t do something as simple as get my kitchen to follow me, why was I here?
What did I want?
I mean, really want?
Was it to be handed an easy job and given my career? Or was it to carve out a name for myself in the industry through blood, sweat and tears?
Was I going to give up because it wasn’t easy?
Or was I going to dig in my heels and force people to do as I asked?
The answer was obvious.
The door to this job might have been opened for me, but nobody was going to hand me a legacy on a silver platter.
“Enough of this inner dialogue bullshit,” I whispered to no one.
Spinning around, I buttoned my chef jacket and stomped back into the kitchen. I decided this was it. I’d had enough. There were decisions that had to be made for tonight and I was done pussyfooting around. But I also wasn’t ready to start firing people left and right.
That would have to play out naturally, I decided. And hopefully, going into my second week at Bianca, it wouldn’t have to come to that.
I pulled down the clipboard from where it hung next to a cooler and started to go over the schedule. Checking people off the list as they slowly walked in for their shifts and prep work, I started to feel carefully optimistic.
Everyone managed to walk in close to ten. Granted, it was ten-forty-five and Ashlynn, the head sous chef and second in command was only just strolling through the door, but a quarter to eleven was a big improvement over last week.
She glared at me, per usual, as she shrugged on her jacket and started buttoning it. I held her stare, not backing down.
“Now that we’re all here,” I addressed the room in my most commanding voice, “we can start.” I pulled the pen I’d used to secure my hair in a makeshift bun and started going down the list, assigning stations and prep tasks.
“A few final things,” I told them, struggling to keep their attention. “We’re out of the duck for our duck confit.” A murmur of disapproval rippled through the ranks. This was a popular dish at Bianca, one of the staples, and I hadn’t ordered enough. It was my mistake, but I was still learning the kitchen. “Instead, we’re going to do a strip steak and duck fat frites with a mango and watermelon chutney.”
“You can’t do that,” Ashlynn said, speaking up for the first time that day and speaking to me for the first time in two days.
Stunned by the vehemence in her voice, I asked, “Can’t do what?”
“You can’t just change the menu day of,” she snapped, folding her arms over her chest. “That’s tacky.”
My body snapped to attention at her insult, standing straight and flexing every muscle. “It’s not tacky,” I corrected her. “It’s a solution.”
“We wouldn’t need a solution, if you wouldn’t have created a problem.” She wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t the way to speak to your boss either. “Now you’ve put us in a bad situation and want us to fix it by making shit up on the fly? This is ridiculous.”
