Turn up the Heat

Simmer and the other Newbury Street businesses. Most of the buildings in this part of town were beautiful old brownstones and converted town houses, many with large bay windows that displayed high-end products. But behind the glamorous storefronts and equally glamorous stores, the alleys were the same trash-filled back streets you’d find in any other part of Boston. As I eased my car down the alley, I kept an eye out for anything that might puncture a tire.
    I knew Simmer from the front, but the alley robbed me of my sense of direction. “Which one is Simmer’s door?” I took my eyes off the pavement for a moment to glance around.
    “Right there! Right there! See my truck?” Owen pointed excitedly at a white pickup truck. “Just pull over in front of me,” he said, leaping out the door before I’d even shifted into park.
    I got out and took a look at what was apparently the most thrilling truck of all time. It was just as Owen had described it last night: a white pickup with a white box unit the size of a small shed set in the bed of the truck.
    “See? That’s the refrigeration unit. Can you even imagine how much fish that could hold? I could make millions!”
    The refrigeration box occupied the entire truck bed and rose above the cab of the pickup. “You’re not going to fill that thing up on your deliveries, are you?”
    “Well, no,” Owen admitted. “Not yet. But I’m just saying...”
    “It’s very cool. You were right. I like the logo on the side there.” The Daily Catch was scripted in red paint and surrounded by sea creatures done in black.
    “I’m going to get it done on the box, too. Want to see the inside?”
    “Um, sure.”
    Owen was about to open the back door to the truck when a raspy voice rang out. “Hey, guys! What’s up?”
    I turned around to see Snacker at the top of Simmer’s back steps. He was propping open a heavy steel door. “Hi, Snack,” I called. I could tell Snacker was as tired as Josh, but even severe fatigue couldn’t change his olive skin, dreamy brown eyes, and chestnut hair: the perfect example of tall, dark, and handsome. On the one hand, I felt as though Snacker was the brother I’d never had. On the other hand, it was impossible not to drool a bit every time I saw him. I wiped my chin. “Owen left his truck here last night, so I drove him in to get it.”
    “Come on in. I’ll make you some breakfast. And Owen? I’ve got an order for you, if you’ve got a minute.”
    “Yeah, no problem, man.”
    These two were forcing cordiality for my sake, and the result was totally unpleasant. The Adrianna incidents that had taken place in the winter still created plenty of tension between Owen and Snacker. The bad feeling was especially unfortunate because, if Snacker had never hooked up with Ade, these two might have been friends.
    Owen followed me up the stairs. Snacker released his hold on the door as I passed through Simmer’s back entrance. Since Snacker was trailing right behind me, Owen was forced to grab the heavy door himself. Owen muttered “Asshole” under his breath.
    “You’re here early, huh, Snack?” I asked. “I thought you chef types didn’t have to come in until later?”
    “Too much to do, too little time,” Snacker said as we passed the doors to Simmer’s storage rooms. “And we’ve got an early delivery today, so I wanted to be here. Our produce guy keeps trying to drop off rotten shit all the time, so Josh and I have been keeping an eye on him and going through everything before we sign for it. Last time, I refused the brown cabbage, and I had to run out myself to a supermarket. But I don’t mind opening, because I usually get a few minutes to myself before other people come in. Anyhow, I’m glad you guys came around the back, because the front is locked, and we’ve got the music cranked.”
    Did they ever. We entered Simmer’s main dining area, and Stevie Wonder’s “Superstitious” echoed throughout the room. The doors to the kitchen were propped open, and even this early, delicious smells poured out. With all the lights on, the restaurant didn’t have its usual atmospheric illumination. The floors showed their dirt. Stray napkins were piled on tables, and half-filled glasses sat on the bar. I knew that Wade and Kevin had closed last night and wondered whether they had cut out early and whether they were going to catch some heat from Josh and Snacker for some of this mess.
    “Hola!” A warm voice rang out, and a