Perry came in early to get the sauté station prepped and often got salad prep underway as well. Perry liked to have something to hold over Luis’s head anyway, and Jack figured if the guy didn’t enjoy the flak, he’d start coming in on time.
Roz, his grill cook, worked the middle and kept both of the guys in line, and Daniel, his sous chef, seemed to be everywhere at once, setting up, prepping, tasting, and expediting. It was a small crew, but a tight one, and he had faith they could handle whatever Lila threw at them. The hard part was making sure they knew she had authority. He had all but swallowed his tongue telling Emily to take orders from Lila, but he’d managed.
“Guys, this is Lila Grant. She’s here to put the finishing touches on our menu, or change it completely, whatever she thinks is necessary. We want to set New York on fire when we open, and I don’t think the menu is hot enough to do it yet. But it will be.” It had to be. “Just do whatever she says.”
They stared blankly at him, then at her.
Lila glared at him. “Jesus, Jack. You make it sound like I’ve got a magic wand in my pocket.” She patted the pocket of her checked pants and shook her head. “No magic wand, people, and don’t worry, I’m not changing anything yet. I want to see it and taste it first.”
A collective groan rose from the ranks. They’d been through this show-and-tell routine too many times already and were dying to start working up some specials. To his surprise, Lila laughed instead of administering the verbal ass-kicking he was tempted to deliver. “Sick of the food, huh? Maybe Jack here should go out and get us pizza as added incentive.”
His crew cheered. Daniel, the traitor, grabbed an order pad and a pen. Before he knew it, Lila was nudging him toward the back door. “Loaded for me. Thanks, Jack.” The look she gave him was loaded, too, and even though he could understand why she wanted him out of the kitchen, it rankled. If she wanted to develop a rapport with his cooks, he wasn’t going to stand in her way, but this was his kitchen. His staff. His restaurant. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d give her authority, but there was no way he was stepping aside. He thrust the pad at Daniel. “Call this in for delivery then get back here.”
If Lila was going to make a power play, then he would, too. He turned to Lila. “You planning on making them do all the work while you loaf? I have a better idea. Let’s show these jokers how to cook. Side by side. You game?” He paused. “Unless you’ve been catering so long you’ve forgotten how to hustle. I’ll understand if you’re afraid you can’t keep up with me.”
Her smile was sweet, but her eyes were deadly. “I don’t think keeping up with you is as hard as you think it is.”
Her double-entendre elicited an admiring gasp from one of his cooks.
He chuckled, surprised she’d gone there, but he was ready to dish it back. Unlike her, he pitched his voice too low for the staff to hear. “That’s not what I remember, but I’m glad you want to do it again.” Louder, he said “Pick your position, sweetheart. Ladies choice.” He wasn’t at all surprised when she said, “Sauté.”
Sauté was generally the most complicated station in the kitchen, and Inferno was no exception. “Give us some room, folks.”
His crew jockeyed for the best viewing positions on the other side of the window as he and Lila squared off. He pointed at the menu hanging above the station. “Chicken Alighieri.” He ducked to meet the eyes of his sauté cook. “What’s your best time on the chicken, Perry?”
“Eleven minutes, boss.”
“Watch and wonder.” Jack went to work.
Lila studied his every move. He was hyper-aware of her standing beside him. Even with all of the hot, greasy smells in the kitchen, he could still pick out her clean scent, like melons and mint, as she mirrored his movements, one burner over. Their chicken breasts hit the pans skin
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley