‘That’s why we wouldn’t have involved you,’ I said, trying to act like this was partly my idea. ‘If something happened,we’dbe in trouble, not you. You had no reason to think we would ever come in here after hours.’
‘What about Danny at the security gate? He could be in trouble if you got hurt. What if there was a fire and the alarm malfunctioned and people died?’
That was a lot of what-ifs. Also, if the alarm malfunctioned, that wouldn’t be on us. Still, seeing the anger in Roni’s face terrified me enough to keep quiet. I had seen Roni lose her temper on Dante or Natalie, but she usually never had reason to go off on servers. Being on the receiving end of it made me respect Natalie’s cool calmness way more.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘We weren’t thinking.’
Roni sighed and pulled the chair over to her desk. She sat and leaned back, shaking her head at me. ‘Why risk this, Tommy? Your job and your health? For what, a social media post?’
‘It was for my culinary school application,’ I said. Her eyebrows twitched. ‘I want to go to La Mère Labont.’
My eyes flicked up to the certifications behind Roni. One was her bachelor’s degree in culinary arts from Johnson & Wales. The others were her certifications – Certified Executive Chef, a ServSafe food safety certification, and a pastry certification from the American Culinary Federation.
I continued, ‘I wanted to make a short video to show off the skills that …’ I started to saythat my dad shared with mebut stopped myself. ‘… I have. Since I’m hurt, I asked the others to help me.’
‘You were going to make a video of you cooking?’
I nodded.
‘What were you going to make?’ She sounded intrigued.
‘Croquembouche. But with different-flavored creams. Bananas Foster, strawberry, vanilla and salted caramel.’
She chuckled. ‘Why croquembouche?’
‘It always came up when I searched most difficult pastries. I thought it would help me stand out.’
‘Plus, a tower of puff pastries held together with strands of caramel always looks impressive, yes?’
‘I mean … yeah.’
She nodded again. ‘Tommy, why do you want to go to La Mère?’
‘Because it’s the best?’
‘Is it? You don’t sound so sure. Was it the first one to pop up when you searched “best culinary schools”?’
‘Yeah.’ Was she joking? Did she know something about the school that I didn’t?
She took a deep breath. ‘Just because things look flashy or seem to have clout, doesn’t mean they’re the best option for what you’re looking for. So tell me again, do you just want to go to La Mère because it’s ranked highly? Because if so, why not Le Cordon Bleu? Or Auguste Escoffier?’
I had looked at them as well. And I was going to apply to Auguste Escoffier School of Culinary Arts as well as the Culinary Institute of America as backups. Johnson & Wales was another I had been looking at as a backup. All three were listed among the best culinary schools in America.
‘Because my dad went there,’ I admitted.
I wanted to finish because he couldn’t.
‘And of all the schools you looked at,’ Roni said, ‘that’s the one that will fit you the best?’
Of course it would. It was always the one that I’d thought would fit me the best. It was the one my dad had gone to and the one I had grown up hearing stories about.
‘I think so,’ I said.
‘Do you have any backup schools? You know La Mère is extremely selective.’
I nodded and counted them off on the fingers I hadn’t sliced off. ‘CIA, Auguste Escoffier and Johnson & Wales.’
‘Now, I do have friends who are instructors at CIA and Johnson & Wales. If you’d like, I can reach out to them as well.’
