Page 25 of The Chef

I’m still thinking about it all when I reach their table. I’m still daydreaming about Cliff dating a supermodel when I ask them for their order. “Know what you want, guys?”

I’m still caught up in thinking about Cliff and this now-famous actress when the group quickly reel off their choices and I hastily write them down, in shorthand, on my notepad.

I head back to the bar and input their orders onto the till machine.

“You’re taking your time,” Cliff says, peeking over my shoulder as I tap methodically away at the screen. The order digitally shoots through to the kitchen, to be printed out for Dominika to make.

“Well, maybe if you taught me how this system works then maybe I might be at a pace closer to your liking,” I reply to the annoying hunk, and Cliff grunts in response. He sulks away to his family’s table, carrying a tray of the cocktails he’s made. They all cheer him as he flourishes them onto the table in front of them.

I serve the other customers in the restaurant until Dominika rings the bell for the Finn family’s order. I head towards the kitchen, but Cliff raises a hand at me, gesturing that he wants to take the food out himself.

Sure, you do it, pal.

I watch from the bar as he takes the plates, balancing three at a time on his arms, from the kitchen. I watch as he asks around who has what plate.

I watch on as there’s a lot of shaking of heads and Cliff looking confused.

Someone says something, and Cliff’s head lifts up and turns to me. He glares at me with a look just like the one he gave me in the bank the other day.

And I instantly know what’s up. Why the shaking heads. Why Cliff’s glare.

My hands clutch the side of the bar.

Shit, I’ve gotten his family’s order wrong.

9

BAY

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

I’ve messed up their order.

I’d been daydreaming too much about Cliff and his supermodel ex-girlfriend and what they were talking about that I completely screwed up what his family had ordered.

I can see in Cliff’s eyes, the way he stares me down across the restaurant like he has lasers, that I have really royally screwed up this time.

Big time.

Fuck.

With a flick of his head, his hands full of steaming plates, he motions me to the kitchen. I let go of the counter of the bar and follow him to the back, my breathing heavy. I’ve really, really screwed up. My first day and I barely make it an hour into my shift.

Typical me.

I pass by the table full of his family members, and I murmur out a quick sorry as I skip pass, but before I can disappear into the kitchen, the blonde girl - Cliff’s cousin, I think - grabs me by the wrist. She holds me tightly, not letting me go.

“Don’t worry about Cliff,” she whispers to me so that the others on the table can’t hear. “He can be a real dick to everyone when he’s in a funk, including his own cousins.”

“I really am sorry about what’s happened.”

“Honestly, don’t worry about it. And don’t let Cliff get to you. I’ll sort him out, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll have a word with him. If he yells at you then he’s in the wrong. He can be a right prick sometimes.”

I nod slowly and she lets me go with a faint smile. I avert my eyes from hers, embarrassed. I don’t want strangers feeling pity for me.