The Layers of His Mask

5. Total Chaos, The Good Kind of Chaos

It is now Monday and I here am, slightly hungover and anxious as hell - bouncing my knee uncontrollably on the floor of my car. My hands are gripping the steering wheel tightly as I peer at the glass door ahead. I’m staring at it so hard in fact that if I could somehow transfer myself into another dimension, I probably would have disappeared. I tear my eyes away from it for a few seconds to throw my hair into a quick ponytail and step out of my car. I approach the building and step inside, immediately taking in the smell of roasted chicken and garlic wafting through the air.

"Hi! Rebecca Daniels, correct?" I like this woman a lot more than the other one. The other hostess looked like she wanted to stab me with an ice pick.

"That would be me."

"Great! Ms. Crossman wants to meet with you briefly in her office before you start."

"Okay," I reply, my stomach twisting with anxiety.

"If you follow the same path to Chef Brooks office, hers is the door on the right."

"Thank you."

"Hope your first day goes well," she calls behind me. I tell her thank you and head down the narrow hallway to Ms. Crossman's office.

I tap lightly on her door and she tells me to come in. When I enter, I am hit with the strong scent of Vera Wang perfume. My eyes land on the breathtaking woman behind an expensive looking cherry-wood desk. Her raven hair falls in soft curls around her face, and the knee length, fitted black dress - that hugs her curves in just the right way - makes me envy her body completely.

She stands and emerges from behind her desk, sauntering over to come formally shake my hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Rebecca. I've heard a lot about you," she greets with a smile.

"All good things, I hope," I reply teasingly.

She laughs. "Yes, very good things. I'm sorry that I couldn't meet you last week, I was out of town and swamped with meetings. I wanted to play a more prominent role in the hiring process this go around."

"I think Alex pretty much has me all set. I was in good hands I guess you could say."

"You two know each other?" She questions, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Not exactly. He's friends with my dad."

"Oh." Oh? What the hell is that supposed to mean? "Well, I won't keep you from your work. I know how Alexander gets. Good luck on your first day." She smiles and walks back over to her desk.

"Thank you," I mutter before exiting her office.

I head over to the kitchen, captivated with total chaos, the good kind of chaos. The kind of orderly chaos I hope to achieve one day when I am the head chef of a kitchen. People are moving, sauces are flying, and knives are slicing. Home, sweet home. There is something about the absolute chaos of a kitchen that puts me instantly at peace. It’s one of the main reasons I wanted to be a chef in the first place. I look around anxiously for Alex, but see he is nowhere in sight. I open my mouth to say something to a woman as she passes by, but she walks right past me as if I’m not even here. Rude, much? Did Alex let anyone else know today was my first day?

“There you are,” A familiar voice says impatiently. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” I answer Alex, breathlessly. “Ms. Crossman just wanted to have a quick chat with me before my first day.”

“No excuses, Rebecca. Do not be late again, especially since you are still within your ninety days.”

I open my mouth to protest, but one icy glare from him keeps me from saying anything.

Jeez, I thought we were finally starting to get along and then he has to let his true colors show yet again. What an asshole.

“Okay, so today I’m just going to have you start by cutting vegetables. We’ve got some carrots and zucchini over there. I’ll be over in a few minutes to watch how you’re doing.”

What? I’m supposed to be a sous chef - the second in command, but he has me chopping vegetables like some Legumier.

I need this job to graduate so I won't complain. I walk over to the four, gallon sized buckets filled with carrots and wash my hands with hot water and soap. I pour out one of the buckets onto a wooden cutting board and begin cutting in a precise circular motion so that each carrot slice will be thin and perfectly round - a technique I picked up from my father over the years.

The thing about chopping food, whether it be potatoes or carrots - or anything else - is that you get lost in the rhythm. Chop, chop, push. Chop, chop, push. It’s like dancing to your favorite song or running a marathon, you get lost in the moment. I didn’t even notice Alex was standing right behind me, until I pushed the carrots a little too hard and accidentally elbowed him in the abdomen.

“Hey! Watch what you’re doing,” he scolds.

“Sorry, didn’t you see there.” I smile at him, trying to get back to the compromise we had achieved last night.

“Rebecca, if you are going to be a sous chef here you need to be paying attention at all times. I need everyone in this kitchen to be on their game one hundred percent. Got it?” he raises his eyebrows at me.

“Yes, sir.” I say, mock saluting him. The chaos of the kitchen falls silent in the next few seconds. Everyone stops moving and turn to face me.

Shit. It was a joke people, a freaking joke.

Apparently, Alex doesn’t have a sense of humor because he sends another icy glare my way and says in a deadly calm voice, “Excuse me?”

“Just a joke, Alex. I was just trying to lighten the mood.” I look around at everyone else, hoping that one of them will step in to defend me. No such luck, though.

Alex lets out a fast, cruel laugh. “You think this is a joke?" his eyes scans around to the many faces in the kitchen before landing them back on me. "Little Rebecca here just wants to have a good time everyone. Hell, maybe we should just stop what we’re doing and sit around and tell jokes. Does that sound like more fun, Rebecca?” He practically barks my name; his words are so sharp.

Normally if he or anyone pulled this s**t on me, I’d tell him or her off so fast their head would be spinning, but I can’t do that here. Instead, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying from the frustration and try to keep my trembling hands at bay.

I shake my head no in response.

“Good, now while everyone is standing around and doing nothing, why don’t we say a big hello to our new sous chef in training, Rebecca Daniels. Yes, that Daniels. Make sure to give her a warm welcome when you get the chance today because right now it’s looking like it might be her last.” he looks at me, with his lip curled in disgust. He leans in close to me, warm breath on the outside of my ear and whispers in a deep, low voice, “do not question my authority again. And from now on I am Chef Brooks to you. Not Alex.” Then he is gone and out the door and finally I can breathe again.

Everyone gives me one last pity stare and then get back to their tasks. Tears are blurring my vision, but I will be damned if I let that asshole see me cry. Pinching myself hard and telling myself over and over that the first day is always the worst, I fall back into my rhythm of chop, chop, push. For the next hour and a half that is all I do, and I go just fast enough that Alex won’t be able to call me lazy, but not so fast that I am finished too quickly and then have nothing to do but find him. Eventually, there are no more carrots or any other vegetables for me to chop and I know that if he finds me sitting around doing nothing, he will tear into me again. I scan the kitchen for him. I find the bastard putting the finishing touches on a plate of Ratatouille and laughing animatedly to a young man behind him. The other man seems perfectly at ease with Alex, something I find completely unfathomable. Every time I am near this frustrating man, I am anything but at ease. I take a deep breath and give myself a pep talk - this does nothing to stop the butterflies in my stomach - and march over to Alex’s station.

“Excuse me, Chef Brooks. I have finished the task you gave me.” I talk in a completely formal tone, allowing no emotion to enter my voice. Alex nods his head and tells me he will be over in a minute.

I walk back to my station with my heart pounding and my breath shaky. As I wait for Alex to come over, I watch the blonde next to me grilling a chicken breast. She was the only one who looked sympathetic for me when Alex was screaming at me earlier. For now on she is the only one in the kitchen I care to think about or interact with. I squint my eyes and see the red writing imprinted on her chef coat reading, Chef Aubrey.

Alex walks over to me with an air of arrogance in his walk. I make a promise to myself that if I ever get the chance to be a head chef in a restaurant this fancy, I will not treat my employees as badly as he does.

He leans over and examines my work with a look of disappoint on his face.

Great, what have I done this time?

“This is not how we cut vegetables in my kitchen. Damnit Rebecca, do I have to teach you everything?” he speaks lower this time, so no one else can overhear him. I know that they are trying to because I can feel the heat of their stares on me. I flush bright red and shuffle my feet around.

“I’m sorry, Chef Brooks. This was the technique I learned at The Art Institute. But I am happy to learn anything new you have to teach me.”

Alex studies me suspiciously, wondering if I am being sarcastic with him again. I’m not, though. Nothing short of amnesia would have me crack a joke in his presence again.

"Aubrey,” Alex beckons the blonde woman away from the grill and over towards us. “Aubrey, Rebecca. Rebecca, Aubrey. Now that the introductions are over, Aubrey, I need you to teach Rebecca the Brooks way of cutting vegetables. And please make it fast, we are going to be very busy for lunch today and I’m going to need your help with the preparations for the Poulet de Provencal in fifteen minutes.”

The Brooks way? Wow, he just gets more and more full of himself every minute.

I follow Aubrey to the cooler to grab more vegetables to chop. When we return, she begins to show me the correct method in which to chop the vegetables. "I'm sorry about Chef Brooks' behavior by the way. He's not usually that rude to the newcomers."

"It's okay, I understand."

"No, it's just he's never like that. He's always - I mean, always - composed and collected. Doesn't let it show whatever he's feeling. Even when an experienced cook slips, he doesn't lose his demeanor, he makes his warnings silent. Private," she pauses for a moment, glancing over at Alex before continuing. "And the way he acted today - and even made a spectacle out of you! Whoof! Imagine our surprise! I really don't know what's going on or what made him do that. But I assure you he's not always like that," she added with a smile. "Guess, it's just a bad day for him - don't worry about it," she ended with another smile.

This makes me feel one hundred times worse. He acted that way just to me? I didn't know what to make of it, but I couldn't help the small part of me that felt a little hurt and took it personally.

What did I do?

I give Aubrey a bleak smile and continue with what I am doing, trying hard not to let these thoughts distract me from the job at hand. Anyway, here, he was my teacher and it's none of my business how he treats me if I make a mistake. True, it hurts, but ultimately, it'll shape me up into a better chef - one I have dreamt of becoming. This thought sets my priorities straight and puts some sense into me, I start working harder than ever with a new-found determination and focus. And, boy, am I proud.

***

“How was the first day?” Tim asks from the living room.

“Don’t even get me started on the first day,” I reply, scooping the spaghetti noodles from the pot and draining them through a colander placed in the sink.

“Was it really that bad?” he inquires, swiveling on the couch to get a better look at me.

“Yes. Yes, it was. My shoulders are sore right now from all the pent-up tension I had building in them all day.” I roll my shoulders and immediately after a ripple of pain runs through them.

“Wow, that dude must really be a douche bag.”

“He’s just a sad, misunderstood little man.”

“You’re about as bad as he is,” he jokes. I am not to be compared to him - ever. If anything, we are polar opposites. I think he is just threatened by me and he feels the need to defend his place in the kitchen. As if I want it.

“On the contrary dear brother, I am far from being anything like him.” I finish up the sauce for the spaghetti and place all the ingredients on the table for Tim and me.

During dinner I tell him all about what happened at work today, even down to Alex humiliating me in front of the entire kitchen. I even mention to him how he has a ‘method’ named after himself.

“He is seriously full of himself, he needs to turn it down a notch.”

“You try and tell that to him and see how that works out for you,” I laugh, swirling my noodles in the thick tomato sauce and inserting them into my mouth.

He snorts. “I can have a nice long talk with that guy if you want me to?” he begins to crack his knuckles.

“No, it’s okay, I can handle myself. But um, you still haven’t told me why it is that you decided to visit.” Conversation safely aborted.

“It’s a long, complicated story, sis.”

“I have plenty of time,” I offer with a smile.

He huffs out a long, drawn out breath, rubbing his fingers through his long, curly locks. “I’m having a little marriage trouble, alright.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, placing down my fork and exchanging it for my cup of ice water.

“It’s complicated Becca...maybe tomorrow.”

“Alright. If you want to go ahead and lay down, I’ll clean up all this,” I tell him, standing and clearing the dishes from the table.

“I’ll get the rest of the mess. You cooked, it’s only fair.”

“Aww, thanks big bro.” I give him a kiss on the cheek and head to my room for the night.

Once in bed, I focus all my attention on the patterns of the ceiling as restlessness sweeps over me. I can’t stop thinking about Alex. I truly do believe everything he is doing to me is personal and out of spite. Yeah, I made a few mistakes, but doesn’t everyone? I’m sure there have been plenty of people throughout the entirety of them working there that have never been mistreated in the manner in which I have.

Stupid Alex. Stupid Alex and his stupid Brooks way.