Finding Chef's Kiss

Chapter 6

Present Time

The meeting with my boss Shelley was thankfully short and sweet. She did most of the talking and went over plans on how I'll be getting a promotion by this time next year. I feigned interest as I'm still reeling from the call with Michelin Guide earlier and formulating a plan of action that has nothing to do with Eatz.

After the meeting ends, I sprint out the door in my Amina Muaddi heels. I frantically hail over a cab, and throw myself in the one that stops. The traffic is worse than usual, and it doesn't help that the taxi driver is pointing out every pedestrian he thinks is a "cool dude". My heart pounds and I barely hear him as I continue to ruminate on this plan that's growing larger than the Amazon rainforest in my head.

Finally, the cab stops in front of a restaurant with Perusing Port emblazoned across the windows in red and black font. After throwing cash at the driver, I shimmy out of the car and take in the sight before me, hands shaky by my sides.

"Closed for Renovations" is splashed in red letters across a white banner in front of the entrance. The outside isn't so bad. I rake a hand through my hair, trying to steady my breathing. The storefront looks as if Johnny Rockets and Panera Bread had a baby. But as soon as I see it, my heart stops. Am I dying? I must be in hell.

Stuck right on the window, for the whole world to see, is the letter B.

Perusing Port has a B rating.

Not only does it mean the restaurant isn't fully up to code, but B means that I just gave a stellar review to a restaurant that's not an A. B means Bad. B means Bravo, Gemma You Just Tanked Your Career. My breathing starts to pick up and I'm on the precipice of hyperventilating.

God, why is this happening? Deep breaths. Okay, calm down Gem. At least it's not a C. We can work with B. We need to work with B. We have to work with B, no matter what!

I take in another deep breath and click my heels forward towards the glass door. The door's unlocked and I gulp as I take in my surroundings. Plastic covers the furniture and the space is in disarray. I lift a corner of one the plastic sheets and glimpse a dark red booth style seat. Chatter fills my ears, and I glance over to the direction the voices are traveling from.

"Hello?" I say with a cracked voice and quickly force the lump forming in my throat back down.

No response. I tiptoe closer to the voices and try again with a higher volume. "Hello? Anyone here?"

The voices instantly stop and a young man, likely in his late teens or early twenties with brown curly hair and glasses, steps out into the dining room with eyebrows raised. "Um, hi! Sorry, um, we're closed for renovations."

"I know, I know. I'm looking for Logan Gelson."

"Oh! Sure, let me go get him. May I ask who you are?"

"Gemma," I say as I cross my arms. I hope tomorrow I wake up from this nightmare.

The boy's eyes widen, and his mouth drops. "Oh my God! So, it's true! You know Logan? We all thought the article was a prank and one of Logan's tactics to try to boost morale again. Wow! Just, wow! I can't wait to tell the others!"

I take in another deep breath and force a smile. "Yep. It's all true."

"Amazing! And you are so pretty!" the boy says with a twinkle in his eye. "That dummy is smarter than I thought," he continues under his breath.

"Hey, I heard that!" A deep voice fills the space and the man who has inadvertently caused so much frustration in the last twenty-four hours meets my senses.