Romance Impossible(35)
I swallowed. The vegetables were ready. I considered saying nothing, but finally decided that would be a very strange reaction.
"It's just funny," I said, lightly. "Seeing you act like that with somebody."
"Well," he said, smiling. "I have a reputation to uphold with my staff. Friends are a different matter."
I wondered if he'd forgotten about yesterday. It hardly seemed possible, but he was in such a good mood, I almost considered it. I supposed I had Barbara to thank for that.
"Here," he said, gesturing towards a cutting board with some vegetables laid out near it. "Why don't you get those chopped for the special, and when you're done, come meet me in my office. We need to have a little chat."
No such luck.
***
I walked into Chef Dylan's office like I was walking into my own funeral. As usual, he didn't even bother acknowledging me until I sat down.
"Jill," he said, in a calm, measured voice - this was clearly a rehearsed speech. "I understand this is a high-pressure environment with a lot of stressors. But you've got enough kitchen experience that I shouldn't have to worry about you burning a sauce, when I ask you to keep an eye on it. Do you agree?"
There was nothing I could say to that. I hated the condescension in his tone, and the cool, collected level of his voice. I wished he would just haul back and scream at me, like he would anyone else. I didn't know what this meant, and it was horrible.
Finally, I just nodded.
"Don't take it personally," he said. "Just take it seriously."
Asshole.
I sat there fuming for a few moments, trying to think of something to say. Anything.
"Why don't you just talk to me like you talk to everyone else?" I asked, finally.
He looked up at me again, mildly confused. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean," I said, feeling the bitterness rise in my throat. "Why don't you just yell and curse at me?"
Chef cleared his throat. "Is that what you want?"
"I don't know," I said, feeling tears threatening to gather. I had to keep it together. I should just stand up and walk out now, but for some reason, I didn't. "I just don't want to be treated like a china doll."
"That wasn't my intention," said Chef, carefully. "I apologize if that's how it came across."
He was still doing it. He was holding something back, and I had the insane urge to just scream and throw things at him until I provoked an actual reaction. I had a feeling it wouldn't take much. He was already on the verge of cracking.
"I thought you didn't like it when I was a bully," said Chef. Already, the hairline fractures were starting - I could hear it in the raised tone of his voice. "No, before you point it out, those weren't your exact words - but I can tell what you're thinking."#p#分页标题#e#
"I don't want special treatment," I said. "That's all. If you're going to bully everyone, then bully me too." I paused. "Your words, not mine."
"I'm aware." His mouth was twisting into a bitter smile. "But you don't disagree, do you?"
Walk away. Just walk away.
"You know," I said, "you came on TV the other night. I actually watched it, unlike most of the time. I saw you talking to someone like you actually cared, and I thought about it, and I realized something. You only treat people that way because you demand the best of them. You want to shape them into something better. It's a challenge. Right?"
He swallowed, visibly, and nodded. "That's how I've always thought of it," he said.
"But then I realized something else," I said. "It doesn't matter. I don't think you've figured that out yet, Chef, to be perfectly honest. It doesn't matter, because the ends don't justify the means when you're just being a bully."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Chef Dylan looked at me, and I expected to see something in his face that would make me wince, but I didn't. He looked, in fact, like he didn't know what to say.
Finally, I got up and walked away, hating myself and every decision I'd ever made in my life.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Radicchio
One of the more complex lettuces you'll find in an ordinary kitchen, radicchio is a welcome accent to any salad. At times, it is pleasant and mild; other times, it is bitter. But it always complements its surroundings.
- Excerpted from Dylan: A Lifetime of Recipes
***
Max
***
Under normal circumstances, I would have rather swallowed a box of tacks than ask Beckett for advice about Jill. But a few beers in, as we lounged in my office, it started to seem like a very good idea. I recounted the sauce-burning incident, as well as her strange behavior around Barbara - not to mention her outburst in my office.