“Your chest?”
“Nope.”
“Do you still feel sick?”
“As in do I wanna puke my guts up?”
“Yes.”
“Nope. Can I go back to sleep now?”
“If you tell me what hurts.”
Lenny half expected another monosyllabic response, but as they stared at each other, Nero’s belligerence seemed to crumble. He grasped Lenny’s hand, then raised it to his head. “It’s fucking killing me, Len. I need to sleep.”
Len. It was a nickname Lenny despised, but uttered by Nero it suddenly held a certain magic. He relinquished his grip on Nero’s shoulders and let him lie down. “I’m going to get you some water. You can sleep when you’ve drunk it.”
Nero grumbled, and obediently stayed awake until Lenny had poured a pint of water down him, but he was asleep again by the time Lenny returned from the kitchen a second time. The urge to lie down beside him and snooze away what was left of the night was strong. Even sick, Nero was the best bedmate a man—or woman—could ask for. But it was 5 a.m., which meant Nero was due back in the kitchen in a matter of hours, and if Lenny was going to step into his shoes, he had to start early.
He left Nero sleeping and went downstairs to the kitchen, glad he’d paid attention when Nero had shown him how to set up the kitchen. Thankfully, it was Tuesday, a service he could maybe handle on his own if he did enough prep.
His first port of call was the huge walk-in fridges. Meat products still made him want to hurl, but Nero had taught him well, and he knew just what to do with the trays of steaks, poultry, and chops. Next up, fish. There were scallops, but Lenny despised them. He picked haddock and new potatoes and made a summer fish pie that he could pre-portion and chuck in the oven when the orders came in.
The veggie special was simple—the last few bags of gluten-free pasta, paired with courgettes and pecorino, and with all the ingredients laid out ready for prepping, Lenny allowed himself a cup of tea. He had a few hours to kill before the rest of the team filtered in, and he found himself enjoying the quiet. The only thing missing was Nero.
I miss him. Pain squeezed Lenny’s heart as he realised how true his errant thought was. Nero wasn’t far away, but Lenny wanted more than anything to lie with him, rub his aching head, and kiss it all away.
He had to settle for peeling courgettes and grating cheese. Pouring seasoned oil over meat and parboiling pasta. He was loading his prepared pies onto trays when a low chuckle startled him.
Lenny whirled around, searching for Nero, though his heart knew it was Cass. “Jesus. You scared me.”
“Ditto, mate. Thought we were being burgled.” Cass ventured forward and peered at the fruits of Lenny’s early start. “This looks good. Bit twatish of Nero to have you in here so early, though. What’s he doing? Cleaning some shit like a grumpy old woman?”
“He’s in bed, actually. He’s sick.”
“Sick?” Cass frowned. “What’s up with him?”
Lenny shrugged. “I think it’s a virus, but he’s exhausted too. I’m gonna work for him today.”
“You did all this on your own?” Cass’s frown faded a touch. “Wow. I’m impressed. You sure you wanna go back to front-of-house?”
“I never agreed to that. I’d rather help Nero, or Jake.”
“Jake? Ah, with the branding and shit?”
“I think so.” Lenny wrapped the last of his trays in cling film and day-dotted each one. “He said he’d show me how to use the digital studio. If I can help him and work in the TST kitchen at the same time, I might be able to do something useful with my life.”
“TST? Oh, you mean the Stray Tiger? Sorry, I’m still half-asleep.” Cass rubbed his face. “Lenny, mate. You can do whatever you want, and it will be useful to us. All you gotta do is find what makes you want to come to work in the morning. Figure out what that is and we’ll talk. Now, what do you want to do today? I’m here, so you can have the day off if you want?”
“What about Jake? He’s not home alone, is he? He sounded pretty out of it when I spoke to him yesterday.”
“Jake’s fine. He don’t like being mothered by me and Tom. Gets right on his tits, so we’ve left him to it. He’ll call if he needs us. He ain’t Nero.”
“I should probably stay, then, in case you have to leave again. Is it okay if I go and check on Nero, though? I haven’t been up in a while.”
“Course, mate. I’ll finish this lot. Come back at twelve.”
Lenny didn’t need telling twice. He explained his menu plans, then left Cass to finish the prep and organise the rest of the kitchen, and dashed upstairs, ditching his chef whites at the door and padding into the bedroom sans trousers.
