CHAPTER FIVE: A helping hand

CHAPTER FIVE: A helping hand

If this was Garth’s idea of slow, Rae was definitely out of her depth. This was why he’d recruited her, she realised. To prove she couldn’t compete with him.

Sure, a few tickets had trickled in at the beginning, but the minute it hit seven o’clock – BAM – it was like everyone and their dog wanted to come in here.

“Don’t worry,” Garth chuckled as he saw Rae stare wide-eyed at the ticket machine as it spat out a flurry of three more tickets.

“We only have one seating tonight. Tomorrow it will be double this, maybe even triple if Nika can flip the tables like she usually does. You just have to ride the wave for the next hour and a half. You think you can do that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Garth chuckled again. “No, you don’t.”

With his sleeves rolled up, Garth took the time to show her how he wanted each dish plated at the pass. One run through was all she got. Then Rae had to commit it to memory and replicate it to perfection for every other ticket. Essentially, it was copying and replicating how a dish was put together – something anyone could do if they were good with precision and paying attention. You didn’t need professional training to do it, which was good, because Rae didn’t have any qualifications beyond her own experience.

Side by side, they worked together in silence while surrounded by a crashing symphony of a kitchen team stretching its legs. Occasionally, Garth would yell out a ticket, the team would chorus “Yes, Chef!” and then he’d shout instructions or timings when he needed certain things sent up to Rae on the pass. Pots and pans whizzed and clattered overhead, while plates came back carried by the lanky waiter, Tomas, who Rae learnt was on his first training shift too.

“Here,” Garth said quietly to her, as Rae hesitated to place a crab claw between the three oysters that finished off the Styx seafood chowder. His hand covered hers as he guided her to pinch the tongs – that squealed in protest – and placed the claw directly in the centre.

“Oh hush – you like it,” Garth said to the tongs, before going back to his place on the pass and turning to Rae. “You have to do it with confidence, like you do for the dishes at Geras’. Don’t worry, you’re not going to mess it up.”

“In theory, I know that. In reality, these aren’t my dishes. It’s nerve wracking,” Rae muttered as she attempted to try again with the next chowder on the ticket.

Garth quirked an eyebrow at her as he realised what she meant. “You made all those dishes at the bistro? No one else helps you back in the kitchen?”

“Nope. I’ve never had help in my life. Not sure what to do with it if I was offered it,” Rae laughed.

The laughter quickly died when she caught Garth looking at her like she was a lost little deity, unsure of her place in the world.

“You’re doing great. Just … trust yourself.”

Rae nodded and focused on the new plate that had slid into place, her jaw still clenched. A ticket waved its corner at Rae to remind her what dish she was supposed to be focusing on next.

“Right. Trust myself.”

It was hard, though. While Rae was used to sandwiches and baked goods, taking decadent ingredients and turning them into mouthwatering home comforts, Garth’s food was just … Decadent, deserving of the capital D.

The Styx seafood chowder was made with squid ink, and managed to mix the smoky illusion of the river with the fresh seawater flavours, as Rae discovered when Garth asked her to sample its salt levels. It was served alongside warm loaves of bread that were so soft, Rae just wanted to dunk her head on them like a pillow. Those loaves came with self-buttering knives, but in place of butter was a saffron rouille that made Rae actually moan out loud.

Garth had grinned again at her for that reaction.

It was hard to choose a favourite main dish that Rae saw come and go from the pass. The goat’s curry invoked feelings of rainy days in the meadow. Plus, it was one of the easiest dishes to plate in a deep bowl that had a large, rounded, white edge. Though there was something to be said for the fish that was the length of a table for six and stuffed with lemons, bunches of herbs and vegetables, bright red cherry tomatoes, and delightfully sharp capers, all drizzled over with warmed olive oil.

Although, the meats that Lexie had sourced – Rae didn’t recognise the cuts or which animal the Lamia had taken them from, and she wasn’t about to ask – were served on an actual mini crackling fire, where the customer got to cook the meat to their liking. Rae hadn’t seen anything like that before.

“Fire’s a waste of time,” Lexie had winked at her, grabbing an additional piece of meat that wasn’t up to Garth’s standards on the pass and dangling it into her mouth, before swallowing it whole.

“If you say so,” Rae had replied wide-eyed, scared to make a move.

Lexie had just smirked and moved back to her station.

By the time dinner service had begun winding down, Rae had a pretty good idea of which dessert was her favourite. The fig σορμπέ was light and creamy, it melted only when it came into contact with a creatures tongue, meaning it could be shaped on the plate into any form.

Garth told her to have fun with it – to create whatever shape she wanted. At first, Rae made a simple pink pyramid and balanced the fig beside it. Garth had merely raised his eyebrows and said, “Come on Sunshine, you can do better than that.”

Letting out a little “hmph,” Rae set about getting a little more creative. She decided to mould the frozen treat into the shape of a small horse and had the horse bending down to eat from the fig itself.

This time Garth laughed. “Now that’s more like it! Service!”

The other two signature desserts weren’t as fun, but they were just as delicious when Rae sampled them. One was a pomegranate tart that was both tart in its nature and description, with the perfect golden crust. The other was a walnut souffle – the biggest souffle Rae had ever seen.

The skill and complexity in flavour palettes and techniques in this kitchen had shown Rae exactly what she was up against. And though her time in the kitchen had flown, that she’d survived a whole shift and held her own, she knew her one-Arae bistro couldn’t compete with the likes of this place.

Perhaps, she considered, Garth did deserve his reputation. Or perhaps this was simply what libations and belief got you. Power.

“You did well,” he said, as they all began to pitch in with the cleaning of the kitchen once service was over. Large buckets of soapy water and thick bristled brushes had begun busying themselves, but it was a rule of thumb that chefs were meticulous about their clean kitchens. They wouldn’t allow sentient objects to take on that responsibility alone, which was why everyone was on their knees, or balancing on benches, as they scrubbed the life out of the kitchen surfaces until they shimmered back at them; radiant.

“Thanks.”

“When we’re finished up here, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Probably to tell her she should drop out of the competition and stop wasting her time.

Instead Rae said, “You’re not leaving us to do the cleaning ourselves?”

Garth grabbed a fresh bucket. That sad look was back in his eyes. “Your boss isn’t very decent to you, is he?”

Rae snapped her mouth shut at that, but Garth wasn’t budging. “Is he?”

“He gave me a job. I’ve got nothing but gratitude,” Rae managed to get out between clenched teeth. Her tone, thankfully, remained neutral, though she began scrubbing her ‘patch’ on the pass more aggressively.

Garth left Rae to it after that. By the time the team was finished, Rae was so exhausted that she just grabbed her belongings that she’d put in the staff locker room before service had begun, and headed out the service entrance.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Rae turned around, her shoulders slumped, her body exhausted from two back-to-back demanding jobs. “Home. I’m going home,” she told Garth.

“You didn’t think I was going to ask you for a favour and then not pay you, did you?”

He stepped forward, a token in hand.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Thanks.”

“Well, aren’t you going to read it?”

Rae glanced down at the parchment. “Dinner at Zeus’ Watering Hole.”

“It was the least I could do seeing as you helped us out tonight. And you held your own – just like I thought you would.” Garth crossed his arms and gave her a dashing smile.

“I don’t know about that. It’s too … busy. I felt like I was barely getting the dishes ready in time. I was surprised you didn’t bark at me to hurry up, to be honest.”

It was a brush off, an intentional one. If Rae admitted she wasn’t cut out for his world then Garth couldn’t beat her to it.

“It’s not as scary as it seems.”

Rae raised an eyebrow at him as she scoffed. “You’re kidding, right? That place is the stuff foodies like me can only dream about. It was fun, but I’m better suited to the bistro.”

Another brush off. Another attempt to get him to admit that tonight had been a test she’d failed.

“But you didn’t dream it tonight. You lived it. You survived it. Why do you insist on playing small? On downplaying your natural skills and talent? What are you afraid of?”

“Why are you trying to push me into something I’m not cut out for? Are you deliberately trying to psych me out, is that it?!”

Before Garth had a chance to reply, someone else stepped out into the cool, dark air.

“Not bad for a first time, Sunshine. Not great, but not bad,” Nika acknowledged as she brushed past both of them.

“Thanks.”

And with that, Nika walked off into the twilight streets.

“Look,” Garth said, drawing Rae’s attention back to him. “Don’t listen to Nika. Use the token tomorrow night. I’ve got a special table set up. You could come and actually enjoy the first night of the festival, experience the other side of our place. Show you what you were a part of tonight. We can talk.”

Rae offered him a sad smile, shook her head, then turned and walked the same route home.