My eyes dropped to the shattered plate on the floor, glass mixed in with onions, and then to the wall where he’d thrown it. More specifically, to the picture of the kitchen staff. The glass inside the frame was cracked right over Felix’s face, the damage splitting all the way down between him and Margie.
“You all right, Chef?” Russ, another line cook, tentatively asked.
My head snapped up, a wave of dizziness crashing into me, knocking me off balance. My hand shot out, slamming down on my prep station, sending a secondary jarring sound through the space. I winced, doubling over, spots filling my vision.
“Someone see to Angel,” Felix barked. “Check her blood sugar.”
A second later, Monty’s voice was close. “I got her, Chef.”
“How are the guests looking?” Alex called out, clearing her throat.
I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. “The dining room is fine, but some people did hear the crash. That’s why I came back here.”
There was more silence, and if I had the strength to look up, I knew everyone would still be staring at Felix. It was one thingfor him to yell, but throwing things? That was new. And highly concerning.
“Hey, you can’t faint on me. You told me I could have a slice of cake when the night was over,” Monty said.
A weak laugh left me. “I just need to sit down for a moment.”
He was gone and back again, the emergency chair behind me. “Take a seat. Where’s your bag?”
“In my cubby,” I rasped, leaning back and keeping my eyes closed. My stomach rumbled and my brain was finally able to focus on my body instead of the outside world. By the time Monty returned with my bag, it sounded like things were moving in the kitchen again, but someone could slice the tension with a knife.
“All right,” Monty drawled, “we got chocolate chip and granola or a peanut butter protein ball thingy.”
I cracked open a single eyelid. “Protein ball thingy,” I parroted.
He held up the red and tan packaging. “Yeah, these things.”
“No, Monty. That’s what I want. Give me two of those please and my water.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah. Here you go.”
A few minutes later, when I started to feel better, the dots and dizziness having slunk back to wherever they usually hid out, Chef Felix came over to me. I made a move to stand up, but he shook his head once. I waited for him to stop walking, but he didn’t. He leaned over me, bracing a hand on the back of the chair, hiding me from the rest of the kitchen staff.
“Are you all right?” he asked gruffly.
“Could ask you the same thing,” I said, taking a final sip of water.
There was that stone set look again.
I sighed. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m good to go. I need to get that cheesecake out of the oven.”
He looked over his shoulder and barked out the order. “Someone grab that cheesecake out of the oven.”
“Heard, Chef!”
Felix returned his attention to me and gave me a flat-lined smile. “This is my last night.”
“Excuse me?”
He pushed off and held out his hand to help me stand. Once I was back on my feet, he told me to follow him to Marg’s office. He didn’t even let the door shut before dropping the bomb. “I can’t do this anymore.”
A chill shot down my spine like a cold front. “What do you mean?” I whispered, leaning back against Marg’s desk.
He looked at her desk and then the rest of her cramped office. “This isn’t my dream.”
“Which are you referring to? Being sous chef here or cooking in general?” I asked, making a point to keep my voice gentle. Despite the rest of the staff only being able to tolerate Felix, I didn’t mind him. He was good at his job. He was organized and brought fresh ideas to the menu. He hadn’t produced a bad recipe yet. During prep times, he was quiet, but he never failed to check in with the crew.
