“You were doing Dieter a favour. I didn’t want you to walk in here and have to do a shit ton of work. What are you doing tomorrow?”
My body tensed, automatically on the defensive. “I’m here at eleven. That dick from Wholesome Foods is coming round.” Like most chefs, I could swear. Also like most chefs, I had fuck all patience for dickwads.
“Leave him to Dieter. There’s a new tapas in Clapham and I want to check out its lunchtime menu. The Water Hater gave them an amazing review yesterday.”
The Water Hater was the nickname for a food critic who always commented on the quality of the table water; his pathetic attempt at a joke at the end of his usually scathing reviews. I knew Simone was pretty much obsessed with his ratings, given that in the early days of her other restaurant, Blue, he’d pissed her off with a comment about her halibut. Occasionally, if I wanted to piss her off, I’d make reference to something positive he’d said about somewhere else, then I’d watch the fireworks from a safe distance.
I wasn’t quite sure I trusted her with her own knives, let alone mine.
“I’m always up for trying food somewhere else. Who’s the chef there?”
She shrugged. “Nick Buckley. And he’s a twat.”
A twat I knew had asked her out on a least three occasions. I didn’t laugh, mainly because that was the best way to piss Simone off. She was as prickly as a cactus with extra spikes at the best of times and wound tight. Laughing would just unleash a shit ton of fury.
“You know we’ll do a better job with Toad Hall than him.” I believed it too. Buckley was a good chef; he was creative and inventive with flavours, but he had no style to go with it and lacked imagination with the overall selling point. I’d seen photos of his new place and it looked just like any other tapas restaurant.
“I know. I just wonder why he gets amazing reviews. I don’t see it.”
“He’s trendy at the moment. Probably because that footballer was raving about the meal he had at his other restaurant. I wouldn’t worry.” The need to reassure her was strong, which surprised me. Simone was ballsy. She rarely showed weakness – a bit like an alligator - and kept most people at arm’s length.
She eyed her martini. “I know. I don’t usually let critics bother me. I’m just nervous about this opening, especially because the chefs weren’t up to it that I saw before.”
She looked up at me with cat-like eyes. Vulnerability and worry made her look younger and I fought the urge to wrap her up and tell her that everything would be okay, because I couldn’t promise that.
“Do you want me to start it off? You know tapas was one of my specialities.” The words were there before I’d even thought about it.
Simone frowned. “I don’t know, Jack. I don’t think we could manage without you here. I don’t know why you haven’t looked to start your own place yet, if I’m honest.”
I sat down opposite her and wondered what had possessed my boss who had bigger balls than anyone else I knew. It was rare that she paid anyone a compliment. I had no doubt that I was good at my job, but I also had no doubt that my own restaurant was not going to be in my future. That sort of thing took capital that I didn’t have and time I didn’t possess.
“Why don’t we split it between us. I know someone who’s looking for a chef’s position in a fine dining restaurant like this. If you took them on I could help you with the tapas initially, which means we would just need one chef rather than two.”
Her expression softened, then her eyes narrowed, like a cat that went from playful to ready to maim. Simone was always suspicious.
“What would you want in return?”
This time I did laugh. “Let me design a few items for the menu. Have an input.”
“Here or there?”
“Both.” There was nothing like pushing your luck.
She sipped her martini. “Okay. We need to look at the winter menu anyway. What time tomorrow? Can you get here earlier? We can look through his promo stuff and the menu online.”
“I need to drop my daughter at school. I’ll head over here straight after that.”
There was surprise weaved into her expression that she couldn’t mask. I hadn’t spoken much about Lauren. Keeping work and home separate was crucial and I wasn’t the type of person who wanted to get too much into my personal life, because apart from Lauren, it wasn’t something that glittered.
“You have a daughter? How did I not know that?”
I could answer her honestly and say it was because we were simply commodities for her that performed a service but I wasn’t sure how she’d react.
“We’re busy. We don’t have much time to talk.” It was true.
“I should probably know things like that. It’s a bit shit if I don’t know the most important things about my team.”
She looked genuinely downcast about it. Simone was a mystery. I rarely saw her in relaxed mode. She worked longer hours than any of us, splitting her time between the two restaurants and the new building, in meetings with investors, suppliers and everything else that it took to run a business. I hadn’t worked out yet if she slept or if she just plugged herself in to charge.
