The Four Mafia Men and Their Prize by M C

3- Bite My A r s e – Part 1
Aurora POV

2 weeks later

“Aurora! I need a chicken cordon bleu, two ribeye steaks medium rare, and a lemon salmon. Let’s hurry it up!” Chef Alexander bellows. He is such a p r i c k. A genius in the kitchen and a 2 Michelin Star recipient but still a p r i c k. He’s been my mentor for 3 years now. Love him and hate him. If that’s even possible…

“Yes Chef” I say quickly and begin preparing the orders just read.

It’s another typical busy Friday night at Saturn. The crème de le crème of restaurants. Rated five stars, six years in a row. It has those fancy porcelain plates, small yet exuberant portions that the rich and famous pay hundreds of dollars just to sample a taste. We even plate our decadent desserts with 24k gold flakes! The customers are all snobs, dripping with diamonds and Rolex watches, designer shoes that cost half my salary. Ugh. Must be nice.

I should be grateful I have this job. It’s not special but it pays the bills. I’m a sou chef now, an assistant if you will. One of five in this noisy bustling kitchen. Pots and pans banging around, cutlery scraping on the metal, crystal glasses tinkling – ching ching. Waiters in their tuxes scurrying with trays through the doors and in those fleeting moments where the doors are opened you can hear the faint ambiance of classical piano music live. Those ivory keys are graced by delicate fingers, and it brings peace to those dining in the ballroom.

I have been here for about 5 years now. Worked as server starting at age 16. I went to culinary school because Chef Alex said I had potential. He caught me after hours experimenting in the kitchen. I tried making some stuffed hamburgers and called it my “Peek-a-boo burger.” Instead of throwing me to the curb, Chef just watched me. We split the burger. It was the first time I ever saw him smile. It wasn’t a big shiny smile, but just little creases in his chin. He said “You have potential kid. You are going to go to culinary school and will train under me. I will make a chef out of you.”

It’s fun but it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life. I enjoy cooking but my passion is projects and design. So, while I was in culinary school I worked hard, got a scholarship, and finished my bachelor’s in project design in a record 2 years.

That’s why I went to DuPont this week. It was my third attempt to apply, and I finally got an interview. Too bad I got stuck with Malibu Wannabe Barbie. It was an interview for a project-based internship. I am only 21. I have a bachelor’s in art management. They get these incredible projects around the world – museums, office buildings, new construction projects. It’s an artist’s dream. The opportunities are endless. But being stuck in a kitchen doesn’t quite translate to the type of project experience these big companies are looking for.

Ring!

“Who the heck has their phone on? You know the rules in my kitchen” Chef screamed! His face became red.

Ring!

Ring!

your phone,” one

let his quick temper get the best of

said, lifting his phone to his ear, holding it with his right shoulder against his face while he takes the hot pan with vegetables off the high flame of the stove and begins to plate

and his eyes widen and dilate as if he saw a ghost. He drops the

return it next to the stove and begin to wipe up the spilled food as I watch Chef’s eyes slowly start to glisten. He is not looking anywhere in particular trying to gain his composure and listening intently to the conversation in his

I can” he whispers, clearly defeated in his otherwise

is, he cannot function right now.

chef?” He smirks, trying to gain back control and

We got this.”

He stops suddenly and turns around, a softness to his face, relief? “I owe you one Aurora.” he meekly says and then hurries to

down. Only about fifteen tables are occupied. I have picked up chefs’ job of plating and quality

with the server Max with a tray full of food. He is a shorter man, 5’8 at most. More stocky build with a bit of a beer gut. He has an unruly beard and greasy slicked black hair that is clearly balding on the crown of his head. Wire rim glasses frame his eyes and make his face look

the warming stalls. “Where is Alex?” He looks around, asking everyone he can

Sir” I calmly state while I wipe my hands on

Secret Special’ like they always do.” He sighs in defeat. His forehead is visibly sweating, his eyes are downcast, and he is

tell them Chef is gone and they can order from the menu! The kitchen will be

chef like he had a bad taste

that is why it’s called a secret. Ha! I do know Chef makes special dishes not on the menu sometimes for special guests.

have the perfect meal for this VIP client who demands “perfection.” I

20 minutes later…

these to the private room for the special VIP” I say to Max with a million-dollar smile plastered on my

“You’re serious?” Max questions.

as ice cream on apple pie sweet cheeks. Now shoo” I