He’d been looking at me since I walked in, his expression more confused than anything else, like he was trying to figure out what was different about me today.
Finally, he stopped loading entirely. He stood up straight, dish in hand, and stared at me openly.
“Chef, you…” He paused mid-sentence, blinked, and tried again. “You look really… I mean, you look… today you’re especially…”
Danny didn’t look up from his cutting board. “Use your words, Kevin.”
“Beautiful!” Kevin blurted it out like the word had been stuck and someone had performed the Heimlich. “Chef, you look really beautiful today. Is it because that movie star is coming over?”
The kitchen went quiet. Rosa’s knife stopped. Danny’s head came up. Brittany turned from the bar with a grin spreading across her face so wide I could practically hear it.
“See, I knew it.” Brittany pointed her polishing cloth at me. “I knew there was something different. You did your hair.”
“I did not do my hair.”
Brittany continued, pointing at my hair. “Miley, your hair is literally in a blowout right now. You have waves. You never have waves. You have a ponytail and a prayer.”
“I always have waves.” I tried to defend myself.
“You never have waves.” Danny had abandoned the vegetables entirely. He was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, enjoying this far too much. “You also never wear mascara to work. Or is that just your natural eyelashes looking like that?”
“These are my natural eyelashes.”
Danny came closer. “But those don't look like your usual natural eyelashes.”
“How would you know what my natural eyelashes look like?”
“Because I’ve worked here for three months and I’ve never once seen them look like that.”
Rosa, still at her station, finally spoke. One word, in Spanish, without looking up.
I didn’t catch the exact translation, but the tone was clear. She agreed with them.
“Okay! Okay!” I held up both hands. “First of all, I look like this every day. You’re all just unobservant. Second of all, a woman is allowed to take care of her appearance without it being about a man. Third of all, even if I did happen to visit a spa yesterday and get my hair done, that would be for me. For my confidence.”
Silence.
“She went to a spa,” Kevin whispered to Danny.
“And got her nails done,” Brittany added, pointing at my hands. “Nude pink.”
“I will fire every single one of you.”
“No, you won’t.” Danny grinned.
He was right. I wouldn’t. And I hated that he knew that.
I turned back to the kitchen, embarrassed, and got back to pulling ingredients together.
Behind me, Kevin was still telling Brittany I smelled different too—like fancy coconut. Brittany said it was probably a scalp treatment, Kevin wanted to know what that meant immediately, Danny cut in to tell him to stop speculating and get back to work, while Rosa let out a sigh that said she was done with everyone under thirty.
Ugh, these people! Iloved them and they were going to be the death of me.
The production crew arrived at one. They swarmed the dining room, rearranging tables, setting up lights, taping cables to the floor. My cozy little restaurant suddenly looked like a film set, and my stomach did a slow roll.
The interviewer was Sandra Koh. Professional and warm, and within minutes she'd made me feel like the most interesting person she'd spoken to all day. She asked me pre-interview questions about the restaurant and I answered on instinct, my eyes drifting to the front door every thirty seconds.
Two o’clock came. Two-ten. Two-twelve.
