“And I won’t answer again.”
“Then you leave me no choice.”
“Pardon?”
He turns toward the office door. “Hector, my boy. Come on in, please.”
Her stomach lurches as she spots a familiar tuft of red hair and a smarmy grin walking into the small space. There’s triumph in Hector’s eyes. Eden has never wanted to punch someone more.
“What’s going on?” she demands, unable to shake the uneasiness in her tone. She’s outnumbered now, and Hector has made no secret of his distaste for her.
“I was curious to learn about Hector’s termination,” Sebastian says simply. “Alexander normally informs me of such things. I reached out to learn the full story.”
“There was always something about you that bothered me,” Hector sneers. “Nobody seemed to notice, but I did. I did some digging, asked around. Alexander isn’t the only one with connections. I called a few schools, but nobody knows who you are.” He folds his arms across his chest, puffing it out like he’s won. “You never went to culinary school, Eden. You lied. And now Alexander isn’t here to protect you anymore.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “I was willing to overlook this when I first found out. You clearly have talent, and I’m all for defending my head chefs for the sake of my restaurant’s reputations. But now that you’ve declined...”
Eden blanches. No words come to mind. Her guts are in a knot and her stomach is seconds away from throwing up her breakfast.
She could beg. Beg to keep her job, beg Sebastian to overlook her lack of formal education, beg them not to tell anybody.
But she knows better. She’s too smart and too proud and too strong to let people like Sebastian and Hector walk all over her. It’s all business to them. Soulless and calculated and all for the sake of climbing to the top to rake in the cash. And even while having a steady paycheck with a healthy excess to save away to help find her parents, Eden has never seen food the way they do.
Food is beautiful. It brings people together, feeds both the stomach and the soul. Her happiest—and admittedly few—memories are of her and her parents at the dinner table, feasting on the simplest of meals while enjoying each other’s company. Her happiest memories are of her and Alexander in the kitchen together, learning from each other, feeding each other. Working for Sebastian will only taint what food and cooking means to her.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Hector asks, so clearly pleased with himself, it’s almost painfully infuriating.
“Thank you.”
“What?”
“Thank you. For helping me realize what a garbage place this is.” Eden takes off her apron and tosses it at Hector. He doesn’t catch it in time, so it hits him square in the face. “I quit,” she announces proudly before turning to leave.
“Well, looks like the head chef position’s all yours,” Sebastian says.
“I can’t wait to get started,” Hector replies.
Eden doesn’t bother sticking around to listen to the rest of their conversation. She follows in Alexander’s footsteps and walks straight out the door.
She’s free.
* * *
The gravity of the situation doesn’t really hit her until she returns home and proceeds to count her tin of hidden cash. She does this every day, at least once—sometimes more than that when she’s particularly anxious—as a sort of soothing ritual. Eden counts and counts and then she counts again, the sinking feeling in her chest spreading to her core.
She’s two grand short. Just two thousand dollars away from what she needs to hire Maxine Kendo. A measly two thousand away from finding her parents.
Tears sting her eyes as a pressure builds inside her skull. She was so close.
Eden sits on the edge of her bed, exhausted and a little shaky, convincing herself that there’s nothing she could do. She doesn’t know what this will mean for her future. Knowing Sebastian’s slimy nature and Hector’s vindictive streak, they may very well drag her name through the dirt and blacklist her all over town.
Even still, leaving was the only option, especially now that the jig is up. Especially now that Hector is back. Especially now that Alexander isn’t there. She can always find another job. She’s scrappy that way. But still, the pang of knowing how close she came seeps into her marrow and leaves her bitter inside.
“Stupid Sebastian,” she grumbles to herself as she lays her head down on the pillow. “Stupid Hector.”
Eden isn’t entirely sure when sleep takes hold of her, but the next thing she knows, her phone’s blowing up with all sorts of messages.
Rina: Saw you storm out… Where are you? Are you okay?
