Mitch

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“I see you found your way to the kitchen.” Nate walked over, a grin on his face. Dirt from the construction site covered his clothes. He brushed off his sleeves and pants, sending a small cloud of dust into the air.

“Yeah. Thanks to good ole Cain, here.” Mitch glanced down at the wolf.

Cain offered up a toothy doggie smile and a few wags of his tail. After a short yip, he dashed back the way he’d come.

“Does he ever change into human form?” Mitch asked.

“Rarely. He much prefers life on the furry side.” Nate gestured toward the front door. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

Mitch found a large bold sign on the door. He paused to read. You must be in human form in order to eat here. Lack of clothing is not an option.

Nate chuckled. “Had to put that up a while back. Some of the herbivores became a little uncomfortable with the predators eyeing them like they were the main course.”

“Gotcha.” Mitch shook his head and entered the building.

The place reminded him of a normal dining hall, filled with tables and chairs. Off to the side stood a large heated buffet server. Next to it was a similar one, except this had holes, presumably to place ice and containers of cold foods. Both were topped with a glass shell, to protect the bounty from people coughing, sneezing, and breathing on the fare.

In the center, a long steel counter ran along another serving station. The sight drew him back to grade school where all the children lined up for their allotment of cafeteria food for the day. He hoped the meals were a tad tastier than those.

A worker emerged from behind swinging doors carrying a tray of cupcakes. Pink icing topped each one in a pretty swirl. The guy carefully placed each one in a fancy metal tree with shiny steel circles just the perfect size to hold cupcakes. About three feet tall, it sat on yet another table, this one to the left side of the tray line.

“Let me guess. Dessert first around here?”

“Something wrong with that?” Nate asked.

“Nope.” Mitch chalked it up to the need to appease a hoard of hungry shifters. Whatever they wanted, they pretty much received.

A whole different ballgame than I’ve seen.

“There’s several workers. Let me introduce you to the kitchen bosses.” Nate led the way through the swinging doors, not stopping until they neared what appeared to be a back door.

Mitch scanned the room, finding it typical of large restaurants. Stations stood empty but ready for preparing the food. Large ovens, huge dishwashers, and at least three full-sized refrigerators were all in view. He knew a walk-in freezer would be close by. Bowls and assorted kitchen tools hung from overhead metal bars. At knee level, cabinets galore presumably stored more necessary items for feeding the masses. All the equipment shone with cleanliness, the brightness of the steel brilliant under the lighting.

Two men stood near one of the refrigerators, having words.

“I need those for my stew.” A short, squat man grabbed a bag of potatoes from the other’s hands.

“And I need them to be wrapped and baked!” A taller man with sandy hair stole the vegetables back.

Mitch blinked at them. Are potatoes in that short of supply they have to fight over them? Anxiety and a healthy dose of trepidation flared. A tingling began along his skin. He ignored the tiny prickling sensation.

“Guys. Knock it off. There’s plenty to go around.” Nate planted his hands on his hips, glared at them, then turned to Mitch and whispered, “They love to argue. Doesn’t matter what, when, or where. You could call it their hobby.”

“Odd hobby.”

Nate pursed his lips. “Works for them.”

“I guess.”

Nate turned back to the men, cleared his throat, and spoke. “Mitch, this is Hogan and Jarvis. Guys, this is Mitch. He’s a five-star chef.” Nate pointed to each guy in turn.

Both men’s eyes lit up. “Really? Five star?”

“Yeah.” Mitch tugged at his shirt collar, feeling a little closed-in with the rapt attention. The humidity of the evening combined with the heat of the kitchen made for an uncomfortable temperature. He immediately rolled up his sleeves, absently noting that the hairs on his arm were elevated.

Oh, crap. Not now. He drew in air, slowly blew it out, and tried to dampen the electrical current flowing through him. The stress of the day in addition to the air heavy with moisture made for a bad combination. A really, really bad one.

“Cool. Five star. All those fancy meals. The crew will be excited.” Jarvis, the taller of the two, ran his hands over his jeans.

Hogan nodded. His dark hair originated from his wolf genetics, at least in Mitch’s opinion. He recognized the scent immediately. After all, wolves were thick on the ground. Not like unicorns, elephants, and skunks. Thankfully so, for some of the more unusual species. “I’m the meat guy. You name it, I can do it with meat.”

Come to think of it, Hogan did resemble a butcher. Broad shoulders and muscular arms were shown off by a short-sleeved shirt. A little short and husky, he could have easily been a weight lifter, a professional wrestler, or a furniture mover.

Jarvis, on the other hand, was a lot younger, leaner, and his hair-do shouted hippie revival. The long locks were held in check by a flowery headband. The slight reddish cast to his lighter hair didn’t really offer clues to his shifter variety. Undoubtedly, one of the rarer versions.

“I’m the vegetarian extraordinaire,” Jarvis replied. “I’m into chopping, creative presentation, and a little class with dinner. I’m all about groovy.”

Groovy?

“I’ve got class,” Hogan argued. He gave Jarvis a shove.

Jarvis snorted. “You wouldn’t know class if it bit you in the ass.”

“Would too.”

“Would not.” Jarvis pushed back, sending Hogan stumbling into the wall.

“Guys, enough.” Nate put an end to the argument with the stern command.

Mitch closed his eyes and sent up a little prayer. He knew that chefs and cooks had a reputation for being difficult, all undeserved in his opinion. However, these two took the cake. Polar opposites. They would make for a well-rounded staff if they weren’t on the brink of a knockdown drag out. “So you two run the kitchen?”

“Yeah.” Hogan rubbed his side where he’d hit fairly hard. “There’s a handful of apprentices that help out, but we’re the directors.”

Jarvis smirked. “Apprentices? That’s putting it nicely. They’re the crew. Not sure their dreams revolve around cooking for a living, but they work hard.” He grinned. “One of them beat Hogan here in the barbeque cook-off this summer.”

Hogan rolled his eyes. “Just because the judge had a sweet tooth and the kid loaded the ribs with a brown sugar rub.”

“It was really good,” Nate added. “Not a single piece left over.”

“I see.” Mitch scratched his stomach. The tingling sensation with the energy made his skin itch. “Sounds like you two have the place under control. Are you sure you even need me here?” He addressed the question to all three of them.

“The more the merrier,” Jarvis answered.

Hogan grunted. “I suppose expanding my horizons couldn’t hurt a thing. Might pick up a fancy trick here and there.”

Mitch rubbed his neck. Come on. Not right now.

“Then, it’s settled. You start immediately.” Nate smiled with satisfaction.

“Umm. Dude? Your hair is standing on end,” Jarvis stared at him.

“By damn it is,” Nate agreed.

Mitch lifted a hand, touched his head, and cussed a blue streak. “Excuse me.” He bolted out the back door, scanned the area, then rushed to a sliding halt next to a stone. An instant later, a loud bang, stronger than a sonic boom, shook the ground. He opened his eyes, found the rock blackened and about a hundred yards away. His shirt carried a few jagged holes, but besides that, he seemed uninjured. Thankfully, that always seemed to be the case. Whatever stood right next to him at that moment never fared as well, though.

“Holy shit.”

Mitch jerked his head up to find all three men standing in the doorway, their mouths gaping open, their eyes wide. Shock was plastered on all their faces.

Well, hell. Mitch had hoped to hide this peculiar gift from the others. People feared getting too close to him just in case the electricity built up to maximum level and exploded out, like a large bolt of lightning emanating from him instead of the sky. No one wanted to get singed. Or electrocuted. He couldn’t blame them. But, it made for a damn lonely existence.

Unfortunately, between the three men, he knew his secret would be no more. Gossip was a pastime of shifters as well as humans. All part of socialization. Which meant Mitch’s unwanted ability would be spread across the whole preserve by morning. He’d be lucky if someone didn’t kick him out.

He hadn’t even unpacked yet. Perhaps that was a good thing. Less work involved before hitting the road. Again.

“What the f**k was that?” Hogan asked.

“Crap my pants. That was bitchin.” Jarvis gaped at the rock, still smoking from the effects from the blast of energy.

Mitch didn’t even ask for a translation. He got the gist. And, as excited as Jarvis sounded, Mitch was just as frustrated and upset.

Nate approached slowly, his gaze flicking between the rock and Mitch. “Wow. I don’t have a damn clue what just happened, but wow.”

Mitch lowered his head. The itching sensation dissipated as soon as the energy released. Well and good. Except now everyone here would treat him the same way as those where he grew up. They’d purposely avoid him, just in case. “If you want me to go, I will.”

Nate slowly shook his head. “That’s new.”

Mitch cleared his throat. “It happens sometimes.”

“To others?” Nate asked, his expression cautiously curious.

“I don’t know. I’m the only one that I know of.” Mitch rubbed his sweaty palms on his worn shirt.

“Can you control it? Direct it?” Nate studied him hard.

Mitch grimaced and answered a little sheepishly. “Not really. It gets to a certain breaking point then discharges.” He lifted his chin to meet Nate’s eyes. “The good news is I usually have enough warning to get outside.”

“Usually?”

“Well, there was this once. Let’s just say the house sort of exploded.”

“Ouch.” Nate turned to view the rock, then back to Mitch. “Interesting talent.”

“Some people seem to naturally collect lint. I attract electricity from humid air. Hygro-electrical charge if you will.”

“Very interesting.” Nate pursed his lips then clapped Mitch on the shoulder before starting in the other direction. He made a detour, ducked into the kitchen, then re-emerged carrying a moderate-sized red water jug with a white handle.

Completely perplexed, Mitch watched him take a few steps. “Wait. Don’t you want me to grab my suitcase and leave?”

Nate spun around. “Why would I want that?”

“I don’t know?” Mitch threw his arms up in the air. “Because I’m a nuisance and can blow up things with no warning.”

Nate have a slow nod. “That you can do. But it’s no reason to run off.”

Shocked at the answer, Mitch blinked. “It’s not?”

“Nope.” Nate approached once again. “In fact, the way I see it, you fit right in.”

“Huh?” Now he was totally floored.

Nate smiled with true amusement that easily reached his eyes. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

“Figured out what?”

Nate’s grin widened. “You will. In the meantime, I hope you fix something delicious for dinner. I’m hungry.” With that said, he started back to the construction site.

Mitch watched him go, rubbed his forehead, then focused on the two men still standing in the back doorway of the kitchen.

“Come on, Mr. Five Star Chef. Show us how it’s done in those fancy restaurants,” Hogan said.

Well, all right then. Mitch took the acceptance in stride, though the very idea of their reception dumbfounded him. Still, he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“How does spicy charred ribeye with pepper relish sound?”

Hogan tapped his chin with his finger. “If we have enough ribeye steaks.”

Mitch thought for a second. “How about crispy sesame beef, instead?”

“That’ll work. Don’t know what’s all involved, but we got plenty of beef.”

He caught Jarvis’s attention. “Vegetable dumplings? Cesar salad? Glazed sweet potatoes?”

Jarvis grinned. “Oh, yeah. That’ll rock with the herbivores.”

Mitch walked over, halting when Jarvis blocked the doorway.

“Just so we know, you aren’t gonna do that kaboom stuff again anytime soon, right?”

“Right. I’m good for a while.”

Jarvis’s shoulders relaxed. “Right on.” He swiveled and entered the room, vacating the doorway to allow Mitch to enter.

Wonderful. My roommate is a furry wolf who plays with rubber ducks along with his skunk best friend. I show up to work, only to discover I need to start wearing flowers in my hair and brightly colored clothes to fit in with the vegetarian shifter that I still don’t have a clue what he is. I haven’t even unpacked and I’ve already built up enough energy to launch a rock halfway across the compound.

He sighed.

On the plus side, what else can go wrong?

A clatter of hooves on cement drew his attention. He strode through the kitchen in order to peer over the swinging doors.

There stood a centaur, half man, half horse, stealing a cupcake from the display. The guy had jet black hair, a dappled gray coat on his horse form, and a long black tail. Muscles rippled under the hide, hinting at exceptional power and grace. Gorgeous. But what snared Mitch’s attention was his eyes. Deep blue, like a stormy sky or the ocean at its deepest.

I must be hallucinating. Mitch blinked, but the illusion didn’t disappear.

Instead, the centaur grabbed a second cupcake, took a bite of the icing, and lifted his head. A spot of pink icing on his nose stood out against his tan skin, adding a lighthearted and comical element to the powerful beast.

Damn amazing.

The beast raised an eyebrow, met Mitch’s gaze, and licked the icing in what could only be called a completely erotic way. He grinned wickedly before winking at Mitch. With treats in hand, he spun around, flicked his tail, and walked out the front door.

Obviously, he chose to ignore the sign on the door. Honestly, who would bother to tell that guy no?

The same man who carried out the first cupcakes pushed past Mitch with another tray. He walked over to the stand and stared. “Bloody hell. Damn cupcake thief!”

“Does this happen often?” Mitch asked.

The guy swung around with a severe frown plastered on his face. “Every f*****g day. I can’t make cupcakes fast enough. People keep stealing them.” He went on a cursing tangent that seared Mitch’s ears.

People? More like a god-like mythical creature possessing hooves and a tail.

“I guess we should get busy.” Mitch interrupted the tirade. “I’m Mitch by the way. The new chef.”

“Tony. Pastry chef extraordinaire.” He juggled the tray and shook Mitch’s hand.

Mitch picked up an unfamiliar scent. One that baffled him. “Pardon me for asking, but what kind of shifter are you?”

Tony grinned saucily. “Honey badger.”

“Oh, hell.” Mitch swallowed hard. Badgers were downright mean. Aggressive. And dirty-handed.

Tony chuckled. “Nice to see I haven’t lost my touch.” He finished depositing his cupcakes on the rack, strode around Mitch, and returned to the kitchen.

Yeah. What else could go wrong today? I don’t know why I even bothered to ask.

He didn’t have much time to ponder the question. Time was ticking and there would be a large number of guests showing up for dinner. With a combination of excitement, enthusiasm, and antsy nervousness, he went to work.