Dirty Chef

I checked the asparagus. Another minut—

“Sixty seconds!”

“Motherfucker,” I cursed.

The crowd seemed to find that funny too.

I had to wait.

I slipped the towel from my apron and wiped a smudge of mashed potatoes from the edge of the plate. Then I waited until there were thirty seconds left before I brought the asparagus off the grill, placed it on top of the bacon, and then it was just the sauce and butter.

After drizzling the butter over the potatoes, I poured three lines of reduction sauce over the meat, and then I was done.

I blew out a harsh breath as the announcer called the time, and I took a step back.

Holy fuck, I was spent.

We did these trips every now and then; sometimes it was just to show support to friends, sometimes there was a festival I was participating in, and sometimes there was another type of event altogether. Great promotion, Alessia reminded me. But I was so fucking thankful that I stuck to our steakhouse in northern Washington. It did create some hype too, that I only had one place in a small town. We had critics and guests coming from all over just to try the food at Coho.

Wren gave another speech, saying he was grateful to have his friends here tonight, he hoped everyone would enjoy their evening, and so on and so on. I was already searching the crowd for Alessia.

We’d be in Vegas until Sunday, so we had two more days of, for once, dining out as guests.

When Wren was finished and the crowd was clapping wildly, I shook his hand and gave him a one-armed hug.

“Congratulations, my friend,” I said.

“Thanks. I’m really glad you made it.”

“Of course.” I smiled and clapped him on his back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my wife. We have reservations at this new place in town called Wren. Who does that, by the way? Names a restaurant after himself.”

He laughed and told me to get the fuck out.

I grinned and removed my apron, then made my way out to the big dining area, and I got lucky. I found what I was looking for right away.

“Daddy!”

My boy had Grady pipes, what could I say.

I gave the two loves of my life the sweaty smooches they deserved.

Alessia laughed and wiped her cheek. “I see you worked up a sweat. You were amazing, tesoro.” She peered down at our three-year-old. “Wasn’t Daddy awesome, Nicholas?”

“Yeah.” He laughed at everything. “Did you win?”

I picked him up and positioned him on my hip. “It wasn’t that type of competition, but don’t I always win? Huh?” I poked his belly until he giggled like mad.

I smiled and pressed another kiss to his cheek.

This little bundle of energy knew how to make my day. They both did, but Christ. Becoming a father had given me a new sense of purpose. We’d named him after my pop, for everything he’d done for me when I got into the restaurant business, and my little junior loved being in the kitchen too.

“Excuse me, sir? Your table is ready.”

I booped Nicky on the nose. “You ready to eat, sweetheart?”

He yawned and nodded hugely.

Tomorrow we’d make up for today’s “adulting.” Late reservation, late evening. Nicky would get a kick out of an amusement park tomorrow instead. It would be to celebrate his birthday too. He’d turned three last week.

Grabbing the wife’s hand, I kissed her knuckles and motioned for her to go before me.

My stomach growled, and I wasn’t the only one. I grinned when I felt Nicky’s belly rumble too.

“I want lasagna,” he exclaimed.

“You can have that when we get home,” I chuckled.

Alessia shot me a sly wink over her shoulder.

The girl was smug because the chef’s son’s favorite meal was…Mama’s lasagna.

Then again, nobody could blame him. It was fantastic.

The only bad part about tonight was our table’s location. Given that I was one of the “celebrity attendants,” we were seated somewhere in the middle of the restaurant. The ceiling was high, the lights were bright, in shades of orange and red, and the staff was running all over.

On the black-painted walls were photos of Wren’s career timeline. There was even a picture of him and me, from when we’d worked together in Atlanta.

A staff member brought out a booster seat for Nicky, and he wriggled his little butt as I put him in it.

“A server will be right with you, Chef,” he said.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

“Where do you want me, honey…?” Alessia gave me a curious glance. It was a sweet question; she only asked because she knew I was often tired after events, so she wondered if I wanted her to sit closest to Nicky. But then, I was me.

“On all fours?” I slid her a smirk and pulled out a chair for her.

I was a happy fucker in the middle.