Say Uncle

Greyhound with Lime

“You seriously can’t tell the difference between cabbage and lettuce? Absolute imbecile!”

The sound of Tate yelling greeted me before entering the torrid kitchen of Collimore restaurant, witnessing the moment he threw shreds of lettuce at the young commis chef, Jonathan. He tried not to coil at the vegetable being thrown at him or the humiliation of it in front of his co-workers, but I noticed his shoulders trembling.

“Now what are our guests supposed to eat when they order a cabbage soup? Lettuce soup!?”

I shook my head in shame, walking toward them in the center of the kitchen around several chefs half occupied with continuing orders at their stations while also watching the speculation unfold between Tate and Jon. A few wandering eyes noticed my entrance, including Josephine, who just rolled her eyes at me for coming in on my day off, especially in the soft blue one-sleeve dress she let me borrow.

I didn’t plan on staying long.

“Hmm-mmm,” I cleared my throat, catching their attention. When Jon spotted me, his trembling ceased in relief while Tate sighed in annoyance at my appearance on a day I wasn’t supposed to be here. Good. It kept him on his toes. “There’s no need to degrade him. It was a mistake and I should have also checked that he got the right delivery.”

Tate scrunched his nose at me. As executive chef, Tate only showed his face for a few hours in the day, usually when he knew one of the big wigs was here to impress or just before a lavished event, the next being Thatcher Collimore of Collimore Suites and Resorts' upcoming wedding this Saturday. Besides that, the kitchen rarely saw him and I knew his presence brought an unpleasant aura to us all, many preferring him either sucking up to executives or in his office.

“I didn’t see you on the schedule for the day,” he stated, placing the bowl of what used to be lettuce that now gathered on Jon’s clothes. I gestured for Jon to get cleaned up in the bathroom while mouthing an apology on Tate’s behalf. “But I guess you get to do whatever you want.”

I scoffed, knowing what he was implying.

This Saturday, I’d be attending Thatcher Callimore’s wedding to my mother, Valentina Lozano, officially becoming his stepdaughter. So, I had some leverage around the restaurant and hotel. As head chef, I tended to the delegations of supervising the kitchen, menu making, morning prep, and even the work that the executive chef usually undertakes. I spent the majority of my day in this kitchen and even on my days off, I’d find excuses to step in. Today's excuse: double-checking the wedding menu and items for Saturday and picking up some earrings I left in my office.

“I’ll be in the office,” he sighed in frustration before his eyes landed on the kitchen porter. “Andrea, clean this mess up. It’s a safety hazard.”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Andrea muttered, hurrying to get the broom and dustpan. As she scurried, her earrings dangled to her shoulders and I didn’t have the heart to reprimand her again about her obsession with dangling earrings in the kitchen, especially after Jon’s humiliation.

I gave a look to Josephine, who took it with a nod, noting she’d have another talk on their break and keep an eye on her. Jon, Andrea, and Zoph were new to the team, having only graduated a few months before. And when Tate condemned them as punching bags, I’d always have to intervene when it got out of hand.

The moment Tate headed down to his office, a vocal sound of relief reverberated through the room along with the comforting clamoring of pots, pans, and food searing on an open flame. Attempting to fit in despite the outfit, I headed over to Josephine’s station where they were preparing an order of seafood linguine in a white wine butter sauce, her specialty. She greeted me with a glare, tossing the mussels and squid over an open flame.

“Shouldn’t you be on your way to meet your date…across town,” she said. This would be the fourth blind date since I decided to return to the dating pool after a year-and-a-half-long hiatus and no one wanted me to hop on that dating train more than Josephine. “There’s no reason for you to be here, Callie.”

“Obviously, there is Tate showboating around here. Why didn’t you stop him with Jon?”

She cleanly poured the seared seafood onto a plate which another chef hastily cleaned and garnished with herbs and vegetables on the side before calling on the waiter to deliver the last of the table order. Ah, there was something magical about a smooth-running kitchen.

Josephine finally took a moment to breathe and cut off the stove as she backed away for someone to clean it before the next order. “Because Jon is a grown man who can stick up for himself, even with Tate. And it’s not my job. Now going back to you, what are you doing here?”

“The menu for Saturday,” I answered nonchalantly, heading towards my office. “I wanted to double-check that everything had been delivered and there wouldn’t be any screw-ups, especially after that lettuce fiasco just now.”

Josephine wasn’t buying it, crossing her arms. “You’ve quadruple checked already and I assure you, Val is going to have the most luxurious menu for her wedding that anyone has ever seen. So stop trying to avoid this date.”

I unlocked my office, turning on the lights so I could find those pair of earrings I left, despite knowing they were green and didn’t match my soft blue attire. “I’m not, I just need my earrings, and I’ll be on my way.”

“You don’t need earrings; you need to hype yourself up and tell yourself, ‘This guy might be the one to mend my broken heart.’” She dramatically swooned. Walking over to my desk where I still had the seating arrangements for the wedding and a few old color scheme ideas. Too late to implicate them now.

“Highly doubt that. I have already got the best heartbreak remedy waiting for me at home, along with a marathon of Friends and silk pajamas. Ben and Jerry are the only men that haven’t broken my heart…yet.”

“See, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”

“I’m being realistic. This guy looks good on paper but it could easily go south.” Honestly, each of my dates had now gone south and I wasn’t looking forward to this one but Josephine has been pushing me to try. Half to get over my cheating ex and the other half to stop third-wheeling with her and Ahmed. She needed this as much as I did, maybe even more. “And if Ben and Jerry can’t solve it, Mise En Place will certainly find a way.” I gave her a wink while she just crossed her arms and pinched her lips in a smile. Still, after a year, she remained uncomfortable with the b**m club I frequent to…relieve my stress but said nothing, knowing it helped me explore a lot about myself in a safe environment after Wyatt.

“Well, I hope it works out. You deserve a good guy, Callie.”

This time, I pursed my lips at her, not one to get my hopes up. That was the old me, the dumb me who basked in the romanticism of romantics and dates and finding ‘the one.’ And I thought I had found the one with Wyatt until I caught him sleeping with my ex-best friend-now-nemesis, Bella Southby, and swore never again.

“Sure. Now, let me find this bracelet so I can go meet this ‘good guy.’”

It wasn’t until I pulled out the third drawer that she reminded me, “I thought you were looking for earrings.”

“Both. I’m looking for both.”

Pulling out the fourth drawer of my desk, I finally spotted the green earrings I already knew weren’t meant to go with my style, pulling them out only for Josephine to squint and look at me in annoyance. “Stop. I know you did not come all the way here for those.” Before I could say anything, she pointed towards the door. “Girl, take your butt to your date before I ban you for a week from this kitchen.”

“Okay, okay…but I need my braces—”

“Leave, Callie!”

*~*~*~*~*

As a foodie, I thoroughly enjoy dining at a handful of restaurants, and The Maple is one of them. From the dim, sophisticated ambiance to the delicious food and drinks made expertly, I found myself meeting my dates here. It was a coincidence the first time, but now, it was my go-to. I knew the staff well and felt it to be a safe, dependable place, whether packed or vacant. And it gave me clarity if someone was right for me without too much glitz and glam to distract me from actually knowing the person.

“Hey, Callie,” Erin greeted them at the entrance. “Your table isn’t ready yet but you can sit at the bar until it is.”

“Thanks, Erin.”

Walking past the podium, I headed towards the bar in the back, a couple clinking their glasses while a man nursed a drink of old-fashion in one hand and texted furiously on his phone in the other. Taking a seat, I took out my phone to text my date, Adam, who hadn’t arrived yet. And here, I thought I’d be the one running late after stopping at the kitchen.

You: I’m in the restaurant at the bar. The table isn’t ready yet.

Adam: …

“Would you like a drink, Callie?” the bartender, Martin, asked with a smile.

Most of the staff knew me on a first-name basis, since I’d befriended the owners, Marianna and Tony Maple, and helped them with a few menu items. Flipping my phone over, I returned the smile as I crossed my legs on the stool. “Sure, my usual.” A greyhound on the rocks with a lime on the side. Usually, calm my nerves before a date, the tanginess of the cranberry strength on my tongue and the strength of the vodka sweltering my veins.

“Is this seat taken?” a deep, rustic voice asked beside me.

Turning towards the voice, smoldering hazel eyes and a boyish smile peaking from behind a mature rugged honey-brown beard greeted me. A mop of matching curly hair sat on top of his head with a few coils slowly fading to silver, either from age or sunlight. Taking in his appearance, he had a mixture of maturity and youth that radiated from the curl of his hair to his well-crafted shoes. He’s probably in his early thirties. The scent of oak wood and mint embraced my senses as he stepped closer to me, that boyish smile staying firm on his lips as he repeated his question.

“Miss, is this seat taken?”

Quickly, I shook my head, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear to act as though I wasn’t mesmerized by him for a moment. “No, it isn’t,” I finally answered. What was that? It’s been a while since I’ve been into someone, but I didn’t have to be so obvious. To blanket the sudden burst of attraction, I flipped my phone only to see a thumbs-up sign from Adam, nothing about his whereabouts or if he was close. I sighed, already having the gut feeling this wouldn’t be a memorable date.

“Your usual.” Martin placed the glass in front of me.

I could feel the man’s eyes on me before landing on my glass. “Greyhound?” I nodded. “I think I’ll take one too…with a…”

“Lime on the side,” I included for him, finally looking directly at him. In a split second, I could see a glint in his eyes which hastily vanished as he ordered his drink politely, dropping a five in the tip jar.

Squeezing the lime, I heard him ask, “Does it make it taste better?”

“Yeah. Well, to me it does.”

Arching an eyebrow, he accepted the drink from Martin and squeezed the lime into his own cup before taking a sip. “Mmmm, that’s a nice twist.”

“Glad you like it.”

“Any more recommendations?” The way recommendations rolled off his tongue sounded seductive and flirty. Was he flirting with me? Callista Marie Lozano, conseguir un agarre, I chided myself. You came here for a date and he’s not Adam.

Despite knowing I shouldn’t have furthered the conversation, I smiled, now taking a generous sip of my drink. “The double-smoked salmon with the marsala risotto is one of my favorite dishes. Is this your first time dining here?”

He nodded, taking a swig as his hazel eyes rested on me. “Business dinner and I need to impress a few investors.”

“If you really want to impress them, order the white chocolate cheesecake. It’s absolute heaven.”

“Dually noted.” Taking another sip, with a slight lean toward me, he asked, “May I ask for—”

“Callie!” a voice shouted.

Catching my actual date at the entrance, they headed my way. Adam waved as Erin turned to me awkwardly, clutching two menus. Something in my gut sank, not wanting whatever had just bloomed between me and this handsome stranger beside me. Despite the feeling, I grabbed my drink and stepped off the stool with a stiff smirk. I lifted my drink in his direction as Erin headed my way with Adam in tow. “Until next time?”

He lifted his own glass, the corner of his lip lifting in a suave smile. “Until next time.”