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Prologue
The Staff
Thekitchenechoedwithchaos. Clattering dishes, meat sizzling on the grill, popping oil in the fryer, bursts of steam, the air filled with an array of scents and flavors, not to mention the chef barking orders. “Get your lazy ass in gear, Benny! Those drinks won’t serve themselves.”
Diya sighed in complete contentedness as she plated a massive tray full of appetizers. She loved the hullabaloo of a bustling kitchen. Things had been far too quiet lately, and for it to be crazy busy like this, that meant only one thing—business was booming.
This wasn’t just dinner service in the restaurant, plus snacks in the lounge, though that was part of it. The hotel had also managed to snag a high school reunion, which was huge, considering a lot of these guests were in from out of town, so most of the rooms were booked up too. It was a pretty sweet score, and it was all thanks to a glowing review on a travel blog.
To stay on top of things, the manager, Monsieur Holland, had given Cherie the go-ahead to hire a bunch of new staff. Cherie, herself, was new in the role of chef. She’d been sous chef for ages, but she’d received an unexpected promotion after the three-star chef, Raoul, threw a toddler-sized tantrum and stormed out, bitching about he was above all of this.
“Uh, Devon—David?” Diya called, pointing to one of the new servers. There were too many names to learn all at once, and she couldn’t keep any of them straight. They all looked kinda the same, with their wide-eyed, fresh-faced fear.
“Peter?” he offered timidly, so that it almost sounded like he was questioning his own name.
“Peter? Really? Okay, whatever. Here, take this.” She indicated the full tray, then she moved on to the next one. It was like a conveyor belt in here, with a constant stream of food going out, dirty dishes coming back.
“Coral, I need another tray,” Diya shouted above the din to get the dishwasher’s attention.
The pink-haired matron waved a tattooed arm to indicate she’d heard her.
“Freshy, what the fuck!” Cherie yelled as the tray came crashing down on the floor.
Diya turned and saw Peter staring down at his feet, his skin blushed up like a blotchy strawberry. “Sorry, Chef.”
When he didn’t move fast enough, she growled. “Don’t just stand there, rookie. Pick it up!”
As he scurried to pick up the scraps of food, Cherie huffed and stomped over to where Diya was flipping the meat on the grill. “I hate newbies,” she groused, loud enough for all the newbies to hear her.
“Better than the alternative. I’m tired of being short-staffed,” Diya said, not at all put off by Cherie’s attitude. The tiny woman was actually a total softie, but when it came to running a kitchen, she had balls of steel and swore like a sailor, and it tended to make people cry. “Oh, and the newbie’s name is Peter.”
“So? What does it matter? My money is that he’ll quit by the end of the night. I’ll only bother to learn their names if they make it a week.” It was true, working in a kitchen like this was not for the faint of heart.
“Wanna bet on it?” Diya asked.
“Ooh, you know it. Fifty bucks?”
“You’re on,” Diya agreed.
They couldn’t shake hands without having to wash up all over again, so Cherie gave Diya a little wink and a hip bump, then headed to the fryer station to boss somebody else around.
Diya saw one of the servers, Delia, trying to give Peter a bit of a pep talk while he picked up the last of his mess. “It’s all about animal behavior,” she was saying while she filled an oversized bowl with ice cubes. “Intimidation is a strong motivator to instill obedience. You see it in a lot of larger predators, like an alpha lion or a silverback gorilla, but paired with the dominance comes fierce loyalty. And Cherie, just like those animals, will guard and protect us. I would seriously entrust her with my life. There’s a benefit to being a part of the pack, you know.”
Peter was nodding, his jaw a little slack as he listened, enthralled by her. She was studying animal psychology at the local university, and she wasn’t just smart, but also beautiful. Yep, with the way he was giving her those puppy-dog eyes, it was safe to say there was no way he was quitting now.
Easy money, Diya thought to herself, smirking as she tried to wipe the sweat from her brow on the shoulder of her kitchen whites.
When Delia tried to pick up the bowl of ice, she swayed to the side. She claimed she’d been working out, but it obviously wasn’t enough. Peter reached to catch the bowl in time, but they’d already seen what his coordination was like once tonight. Diya, however, was in the right place at the right time. She jogged forward and caught the rim of the bowl before it could tip over.
“Isn’t there an easier way to do this?” she asked Delia.
She chuckled, a little flustered. “Probably. Too late now, though, right? Wanna help me get this to the table?”
Diya shrugged. Why not? So long as their boss didn’t see her walking around where the guests could see her in her grease-spattered outfit. The kitchen tended to get a little sweltering, standing in front of the grill for hours at a time. The banquet hall, however, was an air-conditioned 70 degrees. With the bowl balanced between them, Delia pushed backward through the swinging door and led the way across into the banquet hall. A few guests had already arrived and were mingling in groups of twos and threes, but the night was young.
“Where do you want it?” Diya asked.
Delia jerked her head toward a long table set up along the wall where Benny was setting up a lame excuse for a bar. “Lemme guess,” Diya said, eyeing the cheap beer cans. “They didn’t want to splurge on champagne.”
