Heat Wave(80)

“Honestly I don’t know,” I answer absently, still searching the dish for some sign that it’s edible.

“Is that Mahi Mahi?” he asks, bending down to sniff it. “My god, that smells amazing. What did you do?” He’s practically salivating.

“Try it,” I tell him.

He purses his lips together, frowning. “Is it laced with arsenic?”

“Just do it. I haven’t tried it yet. I have no idea if any of it works.”

He shrugs. “Well if it tastes even a fraction as good as it smells,” he says, grabbing a fork. He eats like a tasting judge would, getting a little bit of the fish, a little bit of the rice and a little bit of the sauce and flowers.

I hold my breath as he puts it in his mouth and after one chew, his eyes are shutting and the most orgasmic noise comes out of him. I never thought I’d see Big J’s O-face and it’s mildly disconcerting.

“What the hell is this?” he asks incredulously and when he opens his eyes, they’re dancing.

I try not to get giddy. “I wanted to create Ohana Lounge’s signature dish. So this is it, the aptly named, Ohana Mahi Mahi.”

“Is that a macadamia nut sauce and…?” His eyes close again as he tries to place it. “Cinnamon? What? Nutmeg.”

“I crusted the Mahi Mahi with red salt and a bit of nutmeg-laced panko for the salty, crunchy aspect, then created a macadamia nut sauce spiced with cinnamon for a nice mouthfeel and creaminess, then the mango and lilikoi sauce is the tart component. The flowers are just for show, though perhaps we could use orchids so they’re edible. The rice I figured we would leave plain or maybe add some spice for added heat or furikame. Whichever works.”

By now I’m not even sure Johnny’s listening, he’s nodding and has practically cleaned the plate. “This is perfect the way it is. Logan is going to flip out.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, beaming at the sound of his name.

“Oh yeah. He’s been wanting a signature dish for a long time, a reason for people to come here.” Johnny starts licking his fingers. “This will be pricey, the macadamias are going to drive up the food costs and the Mahi Mahi is market price…”

“Then we won’t give it a set price, we’ll go on the market price of the Mahi, and then raise it a few from there. That way customers are liable to spend a bit more if they know it’s not really us raising the price. Plus, we can adjust it that way.”

“I like the way you think,” Johnny says. “Veronica, I knew you had it in you. Those calzones you made were just the tip of the iceberg. Keep them coming. All the time. You have an idea, don’t even ask, just do it. At the very least, I’ll be here to eat it.”

I’ve honestly never felt prouder. Now I want, need, Logan to come in here and try it. I want him to see just what I can do, not just in general, but for his restaurant. This is nothing compared to whatever I cooked for him at Piccolo.

“Hey where were you last night anyway?” Johnny asks as he switches on the radio. Low and behold, “Purple Rain” comes on, which gets another smile out of me. Logan’s favorite song.

“Decided to head in early,” I tell him, swaying slightly to the song.

“I saw you at the bar. Looked like you had a pretty heated argument with Daniel,” he says innocently.

“We weren’t arguing.” I’m quick to shoot that down.

“Well you were talking about something that looked very important.”

I shrug. “Just discussing Juliet.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup,” I tell him. I smack him on the shoulder. “Stop being so nosy Johnny and get to work.”

He rolls his eyes.

The rest of the shift goes really well. The restaurant is full and everyone seems in a really good mood. I meet Daniel’s eyes every now and then as I pass the bar to the toilets, and I can tell that he’s afraid I’ve ratted on him to Logan. I try and tell him otherwise.

At the end of the night, when the last order has gone out, Logan clears his throat from behind us.

Johnny and I turn around to see him standing in front of the swinging doors of the kitchen.

“What’s up, Mr. Gruff?” Johnny says with a wave.

“Mr. Gruff?” Logan repeats, coming into the room and walking toward me. It seems my nickname for him has spread.

As always, Logan looks like a breath of fresh air. Even dressed simply, a black t-shirt that shows off his tanned muscles and olive green cargo shorts, he manages to skirt the line of being rugged and playful, manly and elegant. When he looks my way, he starts smiling, small at first, then spreading across his face, his perfect teeth white against his golden skin.