Turn up the Heat

cheeks glowing with a hint of pink blush. “Good morning, Chef,” she said softly. Isabelle had quickly learned to address both Josh and Snacker as Chef. In all other respects, the kitchen was informal; in that one, it definitely was not.
    “Miss Izzy Belle! How are you, darling? Ready for a big day? We’ve got that party later, so when you get settled, would you start the prep work on the salads?”
    “Of course, Chef.” She hung her bag on a hook by the office.
    “But go get yourself a cup of coffee first if you’d like. Might as well enjoy the calm before the storm.”
    I was pleased to see that Snacker, as well as Josh, was taking good care of Isabelle. Chefs were notorious for their brash, demanding, and even manic personalities. Consequently, it was wonderful that Josh and Snacker hadn’t yet scared off my young friend. Josh and Snacker were both devoted to the kitchen. They were demanding leaders and true perfectionists. Still, thank goodness, neither of them resembled Hell’s Kitchen’s Gordon Ramsay!
    My omelet was beginning to smell so delectable that I had to put my hand on my stomach to try to quiet the rumbling. I adjusted myself on the stool, looked around the room, and realized that the kitchen crew needed more room to work. Despite all the renovations that had been done before Simmer’s opening last New Year’s Eve, the kitchen was not especially spacious. Although all the appliances and work surfaces were new, Gavin hadn’t expanded the original kitchen area, which occupied the same space as the kitchen of the restaurant that had previously been at this location. According to Josh, the kitchen was a tight fit when he had his entire staff working. There certainly wasn’t any extra space on the stainless shelving units, all of which were filled with pots and pans and with a variety of small appliances, including some that I couldn’t even identify. Even the walls were covered in papers and notices. I glanced up and discovered that pictures of food had been taped to the ceiling.
    “Snack? What’s up with the photos on the ceiling?” I asked.
    “Oh, Christ. That’s Gavin’s stupid idea.” He sighed and shook his head.
    “You mean another stupid idea,” added Santos, who deposited a tray of pork loin on a nearby counter and then headed off toward the walk-in refrigerator.
    “Well, yeah," admitted Snacker as he served me my delicious-smelling omelet. I dug in and took a bite of the cheesy, overstuffed egg dish. “See, Gavin decided that not only should we have all the recipes for every dish up,” he said, pointing to the papers affixed to the concrete walls, -“but we needed pictures of how they should be plated, too. Josh and I tried to explain that with all the recipes, and the health and safety certificates, and the employee notices that have to be up, we didn’t have room for more shit on the walls. Plus, Josh trains everyone to plate and serve the dishes, so it’s needless to have pictures up as well.”
    Odd. Extremely odd. “So, Gavin expects you guys to be cooking and then periodically peer up at the ceiling to see a photograph of a dish? Good thing the ceilings aren’t too high here!”
    “It’s pretty asinine, I agree. But it’s his restaurant. We just work here, right?” He tossed his arms up in the air. Josh had never said anything to me about being unhappy with Gavin. Quite the opposite! Josh was thrilled to be able to control the menu, choose his staff, and run the kitchen as he chose. But pictures of food on the ceiling? Pretty weird.
    “Snacker?” Owen called from the office. “Can I see you for a minute? I need to talk to you about your order for today.”
    “Sure thing.”
    While the feuding men talked, I finished my omelet and then decided to go check out Owen’s truck on my own. I didn’t feel like hanging around while Owen and Snacker talked about fish deliveries, and I especially didn’t want to be present if Adrianna’s name came up. Besides, I knew that Owen wouldn’t rest until I’d admired his delivery truck. Mainly, I left on the grounds that if you can’t take the heat, get out of the...
    Anyway, once I was out in the alley, I was less interested in looking at Owen’s truck than I was in finding out what it would be like to sit behind the wheel. Not that Owen’s vehicle was some eighteen-wheeler, but I’d never driven anything bigger than a standard-size four-door sedan, and I was curious to discover what it would be like to sit