Finding Chef's Kiss

Chapter 1

I must be dreaming. There's no way in hell this is happening.

Replaying his voicemail a few times isn't helping my heart, now clanging at full force against my ribcage. With trembling fingers, I tap the number to call back and hold the phone to my ear. After a few rings, my pounding eardrum meets that same deep voice in a recorded message:

You've reached Perusing Port. We're currently closed undergoing renovations but will be opening back up soon! You may have seen an article about us on Eatz. What can we say? The press loves us, and we think you will too! Follow along on our-

Flattening my lips and flaring my nostrils, I swiftly end the call. I grab my gym bag and sprint back to my apartment about two blocks away. Any other day I would be thankful for how close I live to the gym. But today, I might as well be trekking across the US and swimming through treacherous waters to arrive at a home in Guam.

As soon as I make it up the stairs and through the door, Fluff hisses and dives under the couch. My abrupt entrance with Medusa-like hair may have slightly traumatized him, but I can't worry about that right now. I have a potentially major screw up to deal with.

Please God, let it not be a major screw up!

I zero in on the black pants I wore yesterday and pull out the small white business card in one of the pockets. After grabbing the similar looking business card on my desk, I hold them side-by-side in front of me. My pulse skyrockets again.

Perusing Port... Perfect Pairing... Two different business cards. Oh, my God. What kind of sick twisted joke is this?

I dash to my computer and power up the screen. A spinning rainbow wheel appears before me, moving at a pace slower than a Brita pitcher filling up with water. "Ugh, rainbow wheel! Not now!"

After I count to what feels like a trillion, the computer deigns to grace me with the login screen. Finally, I'm able to login, and open a browser to visit Perfect Pairing's website. A beautiful, elegant webpage meets my pulsing eyes. The clean use of white space and imagery of all the dishes I tried yesterday are neatly scattered across the page.

I gulp, opening another tab, and search for the website for Perusing Port. A bright yellow screen with "Renovating. Be Back Soon!" text in red letters stares back at me.

This is that guy's! The one with the deep voice. The Farmer's Market Man. I grab the business card on my desk and find his name—Logan Gelson. It's his restaurant—one that I have never eaten at in my life, let alone stepped a foot into!

I fumble my clicks back to the article I submitted last night, praying with every fiber of my being that what I'll find is the name Perfect Pairing—the name of the restaurant I actually ate at and loved.

I scream as soon as I see the headline:

Perusing Port, A Hidden Haven of Gastronomic Delicacies

Oh. My. God. Oh, my God!

I weld my eyes shut as every neuron in my body fires rapidly. What the hell have I done? I force myself to open my eyes and skim over the article. All I'm going on about is the elegance and prestige of the place. I flip back to Perusing Port's website and what I'm currently looking at is kitschier than Medieval Times Dinner Theater. Icy hot tingles prick over my skin.

Holding my breath, I swiftly navigate to Yelp and search for Perusing Port. There must be a way to salvage this. While the reviews are quite high, I gasp when I read some of the menu items the place has. Sandwiches? Burgers? Might as well add pizza by the slice to seal the coffin of my career!

"Ahhhh!" I let out another scream causing Fluff to shimmy out from under the couch and sprint to the bedroom. How could this have happened? God, how could I be such an idiot? "I'm such an idiot!"