Cockney:A Stepbrother Romance(33)

"Little fucking busy right now, Ian! What is it?" I yell, barely looking  up from the fifteen app plates I'm setting in front of me and shoving  out of the service pass. I glance up and Ian's just quietly blinking and  breathing heavily. "Ian!" I shout, "What?"



"They're here."



It's like someone hits a switch, and somehow it's like the whole fucking  kitchen hears what he says as the whole room goes silent.



"What? Who's here?"



Ian takes a deep, shaky breath, "Ollie, The Times," his eyes dart up to  meet mine as the floor starts to fall out beneath my feet. "The fucking  Times reviewer is back."



Oh holy fuck.         

     



 



I glance back at Chloe out of pure reflex. Her mouth is as tight as  mine, her eyes meeting mine as she nods. I turn back to Ian and slowly, I  start to stand up tall; it's fuckin' go time.



"Oy, keep the front of the house happy, savvy?" Ian nods. "And if you  have to lock Barney and Laura in the fucking bathroom, do it."



I turn to the rest of the kitchen, tossing my towel down and crossing my  arms over my chest. This is it; we're in the damn trenches now, and  it's time to marshal this room for fuckin' war. I look back at Chloe,  and she smiles at me, and that's all I need. And this time, I'm ready  for it; I'm readier than I've ever been. I'm not frayed at the edges, or  coked up, or in free fall this time. This time, I just have to look at  her, and I know we've got this.



"You all ready?"



The resounding "yes, chef!" roars across the room, and I've never been  fucking prouder of anything in my life. This is my army that I've built  from the ground up and trained. I might rage and roar and swear at them  and scream in their faces, but we're a fucking team, and we all know it.  And there's not a single person in this room right now who isn't as  invested in this as I am.



"Oy," I say, grinning around the room at Chloe, and Marco and all the  rest of them, "We do our jobs, we do what we always do, and we've got  this, yeah?" They all grin at me and I smile right back, "Let's cook  this fucker the best food he's ever scarfed down."



It's a whirlwind after that, and I'm bouncing around the room testing  sauces, touching up on plating, checking temps on the grill even if I  know it pissed Marco off when I step on his turf like that. And it's all  looking perfect, and I'm so stoked about that and so ready to blow this  out the park that it's almost like some sort of bad dream when the  kitchen door opens and my dad barges right in.



Jesus Christ, WHY?



"Oy! Ollie!" He snaps, the glass of scotch in his hand sloshing around  as he stumbles right through the pass and into my domain behind the  line, "What're you sendin' out here to that Times wanker,boy-o?"



"Oooo! It's so busy in here!" It's Laura, red-faced and taking sips from  the world's largest wine-glass as she follows my father into the  kitchen.



Yeah, no, we're not playing this fucking game; not fucking tonight.



"Oy, no," my voice is firm as I shake my head, pointing at my dad and then Laura. "Nope, no way; out, the both of you."



Barney's face gets red as he steps up to me, "Oy son, you don't talk to me like that."



"I fucking do right now, and it you want me to do my job, you'll do what I fucking say."



"Ooooh now, play nice, boys!" Laura says, giggling. I can see Chloe step  forward out the corner of my eye, but I turn quickly and shake my head  at her.



"Ollie, listen to your father, okay?"



"Laura?" I say sternly, my eyes staring lasers at her, "Out of my kitchen, right now."



I jolt back as Barney shoves me, slamming his drink onto the counter.  "Oy! You watch your fookin' mouth there boy! You don't talk to your  mother like that."



The whole kitchen goes dead silent, and I can feel every muscle in my  body tensing as I turn back to him, my eyes narrowed right at him,  "She's not my mother, dad."



I can feel Chloe's hand on my arm, and I let my breath out slowly,  feeling her back there. My dad looks like he wants to hit me, and I  almost hope he does, but he seems to hold it in and lets his face get  even redder instead. "Oy, send ‘im the veal, Ollie."



I glare at my father. "The veal is tired and old, I told you this. And I'm going to send him what he fucking ordered."



"Just cook it, Oliver; everyone likes it."



I feel the rage building inside as he tries to bully me, and I throw it  right back. I push him back, back out of the pass to the other side of  my kitchen line as I step right after him, "I'm going with the octopus,  like he ordered, dad."



Barney's jaw clenches and he steps right into my face, "Now you listen  to me, son. You do the veal or you get the fuck out of my kitchen?"



I hoot, "Oh, it's your kitchen is it?"



"THE VEAL, OLLIE!" Barney roars in my face. I take a step towards him,  raising my fist before I can even stop myself. There are hands on my  arms, multiple hands and I whirl to see both Chloe and Marco yanking me  back. Ian stands behind Laura by the door to the dining room, quickly  shaking his head back and forth.



My dad roars with laughter; "Oy! You gonna take a swing at me are you?"  He spits at me, "You ungrateful, spoiled little prick! I fuckin' set you  up here!"



"I set myself up here!"



I take another step towards him, but hands grab me back again, and I can hear Marco muttering in my ear, "Oy, leave it, mate."



"Yeah, you listen to your little friend there, boy-o." Dad points at me,  his face red. "Now send that fucking prick the fucking veal, or so help  me God-"



"Okay, okay, hang on." It's Chloe, stepping forward with her hands raised, "Barney, why don't we all just-"



"Oh this piece of work, eh?" My dad whirls on Chloe, his eyes narrow as  he grins and shakes his head at her. "You just save it sweetheart. You  think I don't see what goes on here?"

He laughs and an icy chill starts to creep up my back.



"You think I don't know about the two of you fuckin' around like a couple of disgraceful perverts!"



"Barney!" Laura's face looks aghast, as she darts her wine-soaked eyes  back and forth between Chloe and myself. Neither of us says a word, and  suddenly her whole face is falling; "Chloe?"



"It's vile is wot it is!" Barney spits, shaking his head at the two of us.



"Watch it, dad," I say quietly. My fists are clenching at my side, and  this time, I can feel Marco's hands just let go of my arms as he steps  away.



"Oh what, protecting your little girlfriend Ollie? Standing up are we for your sick little perverted-"



Barney goes reeling backwards as my fist connects with his jaw, but then  he's roaring as he rushes right at me. We go staggering into stacks of  clean plates, smashing them to floor with a crash. I'm shoving my dad  off of me, grunting as his fist connects with my gut before suddenly  we're crashing right past Laura, right past an almost screaming Ian, and  right out the fucking door into the dining room.



Barney gets one more hit in before I shove him off, and then there's Ian  and Marco, grabbing him by the arms and hauling him away from me.



The whole fucking room is dead quiet.



The whole dining room, I feel I should add, including the food critic from the Times.



Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-FUCK.



Barney wrestles out of the arms holding him back, spitting at me and  straightening his collar. He glances around the dining room at the  staring eyes, the cellphone cameras, and the white face of the critic  sitting by himself in the corner. He turns back to me, shaking his head,  "Ollie, you're fired."



He jerks his chin at me, "Get out."



"Gladly," I mutter, getting to my feet. I turn towards Chloe, who's  standing there in the kitchen doorway with tears in her eyes. And I want  to go to her, I want to grab her and tell her it's fine.



But I can't right now.



Right now, I just need to get the fuck out of here.



I turn and storm silently through the dining room, dropping my apron by  the host stand, and walking right out the front door into the chilly  London night.





I'm running through the restaurant before I can even stop myself,  ignoring my mother, and Barney, and the staring eyes of the dining room  full of scandalized guests as I follow Oliver out through the front  door.



There's a brief moment of zen as I stumble into the street where I  realize that it's the first time I've actually passed through the doors  on this side of the building, and the fact that I'm leaving through them  almost seems darkly poetic.



Oliver jerks his head around when he hears me and shrugs, "Well, what do you think he'll give us?"



"Huh?!"



He grins. "The reviewer. ‘Three stars; would come back for the  mozzarella and pine nut salad appetizer and the ring-side seats again'?"