by Kiana Lee
Jason’s arrogance jarred her, and her shoulders tightened. “I’ll show you ‘a little rough’,” she said through clenched teeth.
His hot gaze raked slowly up and down her body. And when his gaze met hers, he said, “Is that a promise?”
Caitlin balled her fists, wanting badly to let them fly into his gut. However, she refrained herself since hitting his hard, muscular body would likely injure her hands.
“I’m leaving,” she bit out. “Come on, Jessie.”
“What did I say?” Jason asked, his tone innocent.
Not waiting for her friend, Caitlin pivoted and stomped away. She stopped at the edge of the courtyard and stared blindly out into the darkened ocean.
“What’s your problem anyway?” Jessie asked, her voice a little breathless as she caught up with her.
Caitlin closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sky. “I don’t know what it is about the guy, Jessie. He pisses me off.” And he also made her feel uncomfortable things, things that she wasn’t about to admit to anyone. She let out a long sigh. “Maybe I’m just tired and need to go home.”
Chapter 7
Caitlin picked up the stack of mail that Maya had brought to the apartment. Spotting several letters addressed to her, she picked them up with a sense of dread. Two credit card bills, one cell phone statement. In an ideal world, all her invoices would be paid, and she could go on her merry way. Except she knew that this wasn’t how things worked in her world. Letting out a rush of air, she opened the letters and scanned the contents. The amounts that she owed made her stomach churn with anxiety. Her part-time job at the keiki cooking school was barely enough to pay for food and cover her portion of the rent. And now the items she’d placed on credit had come back to haunt her.
She went through the stack of mail again just in case she missed another letter addressed to her. Four weeks had passed since she quit the hotel job but her last paycheck had yet to arrive. If only she had that check in hand, she could then at least pay off some of her bills.
Examining her watch, she discovered that she had about an hour and a half to spare before classes started. She picked up her phone to call the hotel, but as she was about to punch in the numbers, she stopped. They owed her a chunk of change, and the hotel administration wasn’t very well organized. At least if she went in person, they couldn’t put her on hold and forget about her. Four weeks was a long time to wait for money owed to her.
Gathering her school bags, she hurried out the door.
A few minutes later, she turned in to the resort parking lot. It felt like a lifetime had passed since she worked there. When she decided to live on the island, she was happy to find the position so easily despite having no industry-related experience or contacts. She’d been optimistic and prepared to work her way to the top. Although she was aware of the male domination in the industry, she was still caught by surprise at the high level of sexism and verbal abuse she witnessed on the job. Her friend Quinn had advised her to mind her own business. And while this was sound advice, Caitlin found it difficult to accept. Still, she tried her best to keep a low profile, and work with the hope that Chef would one day single her out and give her a well-deserved promotion. But then her enthusiasm dwindled as months went by, and one by one her male colleagues advanced. Meanwhile, she was stuck in the same position. The sad part was that if Chef hadn’t groped her, she might have stayed at the hotel. She shook her head, forcing that awful event from her brain.
Caitlin hesitated for a moment as she contemplated what to do next. When she worked at the resort, she had always entered from the back of the building, but since she no longer had her keycard, she could only enter from the front. As she got closer to the reception area, she was greeted by the cheerful sound of island music. The area was open, with no doors or walls to block the view. One had to only look out and see the blue sky. A long counter spanned the back wall, and behind the desk was a splash of letters that indicated the resort’s name. Caitlin knew that management had spent a fortune to make the reception area look luxurious and modern. The tourists who flocked to the island were treated like royalty. And the minion workers served their every whim.
She stood in front of the reception counter. Thankfully the front desk wasn’t busy at this time in the morning. The four women manning the desk were dressed in bright red and white Aloha shirts. Three of them served customers while one kept her eyes transfixed on a computer monitor. Since the other workers were occupied with patrons, Caitlin thought she might have a better chance speaking to the woman at the computer terminal. Glancing quickly at her watch, she noted that she had an hour left. If she could get her issue resolved quickly, then she could get to school with plenty of time to spare.
She stood in front of the terminal and waited patiently for the woman to notice her. Seconds ticked by, and then unable to stand it any longer, Caitlin cleared her throat. At the sound, the receptionist reluctantly peeled her eyes from the computer screen.
“Can I help you?” she asked politely, although there was no sincerity in her voice.
“I used to work here,” Caitlin explained. “I have an issue with my last paycheck and need to talk to Payroll.”
“Your name?” the young woman asked.
“Caitlin Moray.”
The receptionist pressed a button on a phone and spoke to the other person on the line while she leveled a stare at Caitlin. As she waited, Caitlin shifted uneasily, as if she were an insect awaiting her fate.
“Can you confirm that Caitlin Moray was an employee at the resort?” She paused. “Thank you.” Coming around from the front desk, she beckoned. “Please follow me.”
The woman led her through a maze of corridors and buzzed her through the secure glass door.
“Go straight down this hallway, and make a right. The third office to your left is Payroll.”
Caitlin nodded, not bothering to tell the receptionist that she already knew her way around.
When she arrived at Payroll, she groaned inwardly when she saw that she had to do more waiting. The administrative worker was behind her desk and didn’t appear to notice her arrival. But before Caitlin could say anything, the woman looked up from her desk.
“I quit my job here a few weeks ago,” Caitlin began. “I’ve been waiting for my last paycheck, but it hasn’t arrived in the mail.”
Even though Caitlin had dealt with this woman a handful of times, there was no glimmer of recognition in her eyes.
“Your name?” the clerk asked with friendly indifference.
After Caitlin gave her name, the woman typed the information into her terminal with one hand. She hummed along with the song playing on her radio while the fingers of her free hand tapped on her desk. Finally, she looked up from her monitor. “I can’t find a record of a check being issued to you,” she said. “When was it that you quit?”
Caitlin gave her the date, and the woman typed the data into her computer.
“Sorry, hun. There’s nothing here. Did your manager call in your termination?”
“I’m not certain.” Caitlin felt tension creep up her back. What if Chef Dan didn’t tell Payroll? This would explain why she hadn’t received her paycheck.
The woman pushed away from her chair and rummaged through some files. Pulling out several pages, she handed them to Caitlin. “I’ll need you to fill out these forms so we can process your last payment.”
“But there are five pages here!” she cried in dismay.
“You can return the forms to me later,” she suggested. “But it’s up to you.”
Caitlin bit her lip as she glanced again at her watch. She had to fill the forms now because she didn’t know when she would have a chance to return to the resort.
When she finished with Payroll, she sprinted out of the hotel. The morning class started in fifteen minutes, and there was no way she would get there in time. She would be late for the demo, although she prayed that she wouldn’t miss too much.
But luck wasn’t on her sid
e. The morning rush hour was in full swing. She tried to go through the local roads, although she discovered taking that route didn’t help at all. Not only was there construction, but she also caught every red light on the way to the campus.
When she arrived at the school, she rushed to the locker room and quickly dressed. Then shoving her belongings into the compartment, she slammed it shut and raced to her class. She had enough foresight to know that if she burst into the classroom while wheezing and winded, she would create an unwanted disturbance. So before she entered the room, she leaned a hand on the wall to catch her breath. Through the glass window at the door, she could see the teacher busy preparing his demo recipe. As the instructor turned his back to the class, she quietly opened the door and slipped inside. Fortunately, she was able to slide into a vacant seat at the back row before the instructor even noticed that she entered the classroom.
Caitlin tried to slow her heart rate, and began to take notes on the lecture even though nothing the chef said made any sense. Then as her pen flew across the page, she couldn’t prevent the awful feeling in her stomach from growing when she realized that they had to make Russian inspired fish pie today. From what she gathered, this recipe required many steps, steps that involved precision and technique. It also required pastry making, which was something she had little experience. Why couldn’t they hand out written instructions to accompany the cooking demonstrations? Maybe if they did that, the students wouldn’t face so many complications in their schoolwork.
Someone nudged her on the arm. Caitlin turned to find that Jason sat beside her. Extending his hand, he pushed some papers toward her.
This is what you missed, the note said in his bold handwriting. She quickly leafed through the rest of the papers and found detailed instructions on how to make the day’s dishes. A huge ball of relief burst over her, and she wanted to embrace him. Instead, she hugged the notes to her chest and sagged into her chair. From the time she met Jason, she had never known him to take notes. But he had done it for her. Lifting her head, she mouthed, “thank you.” In response, his well-formed lips curved into a heart-stopping smile.
When the demo class was over, Caitlin looked behind her to search for Jason, but he was already gone. She would have to thank him later in the next class.
She hurried to the change room. The first thing she needed was to retrieve her knife set from her locker.
Her steps slowed as she entered the small space. “That’s strange,” she murmured as she saw that her locker was slightly ajar. She knew that she had closed it before she dashed to the demo class. Had she forgotten to place the lock on the door? She opened the door further and rummaged through the contents. Taking a step back, she blinked as her brain tried to register what she saw. Her knife set was gone.
It had to be a mistake. But the physical evidence was before her. She neglected to lock the compartment, and the consequences of her inattention made her feel sick to her stomach. How could she afford to replace the knives? If she bought back each item, it would cost her over a thousand dollars. Where would she find that kind of cash? Her finances were already stretched as it was.
Feeling dejected, Caitlin went to the administrative office to report her loss. There was always a slim chance that someone would find her bag and turn it in. After all, there was no mistaking who the knives belong to since her name and contact information was etched on each blade. She was hopeful that she would get her knife set back.
By the time she was done at the office, she was almost thirty minutes late for class.
“It’s nice for you to join us,” the instructor said, his voice sarcastic.
“My knife bag is missing,” she said.
“That’s not my problem,” he said. “Get to your station. You have two hours to prepare your dishes.”
She went to her workspace and took out the notes that Jason had given to her. The instructor was one of the few teachers that she disliked. He seemed to hate his job and relished making their lives miserable. He often disagreed with the methods and techniques that the demo teachers taught them. And he was even known to give students lower marks if they defended their positions.
“You can use these,” Jason said from across the table. He leaned over and set a couple of knives on her cutting board.
“I can’t take your blades,” she said, looking at the gleaming knives. “I’m sure you’ll need them.”
“I only need to use this one,” he said, pointing to the classic eight-inch knife that sat on his board.
She wanted to argue and tell him that she couldn’t take them, but at the same time, she realized that her protests would be empty.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling gratefully at him. She wanted to continue speaking with him, but their conversation had to wait. The time was ticking, and she needed to finish.
An hour later, she completed the first portion of her preparation. Taking a small taste from her plate, she frowned.
“Do you want me to try it, and give you a second opinion?” he asked.
“Could you?”
He took tried a sample and immediately spit it out. “How much pepper did you put in there?” he gasped.
“The lid on the spice bottle wasn’t on properly and more cayenne pepper went in than I intended.” Her voice shook as she tried hard to keep her voice under control. “I scooped out as much as I could.”
“I can’t stand spicy food,” he said. “You should make it again.”
Caitlin nodded and redid the dish. Over the past week, school was going well for the most part, but the issue with her check from her last employer had really thrown her for a loop. Nothing was going her way. Then to make matters worse, the current instructor hovered over her as if he noticed her vulnerability and wanted to exploit it. But she wasn’t the only one he tormented. The chef moved around the kitchen lab, spreading his criticisms to the other students. That knowledge should have made her feel less insecure, but for some reason, the teacher kept circling back to make more negative comments on her work. On his fifth visit, his temper finally broke.
“This is a pathetic attempt! If you think you can work in a kitchen, you can dream on. You’re not cut out for this!” He scribbled something on his clipboard. When he looked up, he glared at her. “You’re pretty, and that’s all you’ve got. Why don’t you just go into an industry where you can use your looks? Obviously, your cooking skills are lack—”
Something inside her snapped. Caitlin tightened her grip on the knife handle. Instead of seeing the instructor’s face, she saw Chef Dan. For many months, that man had made her feel small. He had assaulted her and degraded her in front of others. An inner part of her recognized that this instructor was exactly the same as her former boss. But she was done being bullied and belittled.
Her gaze fell to her hand, noting that it trembled with anger and the desire for vengeance. With just one smooth motion, she could thrust the knife into her tormentor. And with this one act, she could end the torture he inflicted on her and all the other students. Therefore, with this deed, she would do everyone here a favor. She might even help society by getting rid of scum like him.
The teacher took a step back as if he suddenly realized that he had crossed the line with her. For the first time, she saw fear in his face.
“Are you done?” she demanded, her voice tight.
The room was silent. Her classmates watched the drama with bated breath, as if they tried to determine what she would do next.
The teacher nodded and looked behind him as if he wanted to run from the room. He must have known that a small thread of sanity held her together, and his life was in danger if he made another misstep.
“Good, because I’m done too.”
The chef jumped as she stabbed the knife forcefully into the chopping board. The blade tip buried deep into the wood, swaying slightly from the force of her thrust. Her senses had returned. It wasn’t worth going to jail for him.
Gathering her belongings, she stormed out of the c
lassroom.
Chapter 8
Her roommates were working, so as soon as Caitlin walked into the apartment, she banged the door as hard as she could. The vibration of the slam shook the walls and reverberated throughout the room. But she still wasn’t satisfied. Stomping into the living area, she reached into her school bag and took out her notebook. She then let out a loud banshee cry. Reaching inside to the pure rage contained in her core, she pitched her binder against the wall. The book ricocheted off the barrier, scattering the papers all over the floor. Backing up against the partition, Caitlin slid slowly to the floor. She then buried her face in her hands as her shoulders shook and the tears streamed down her face.
She would never be allowed in school again after the stunt she pulled in class. An entire room filled with people witnessed her moment of craziness. What was she going to do now? Half her fees were already paid, and if she didn’t complete this course, all of that money was going to be wasted. And if that happened, she would end up in a place worse off than when she started.
Drawing her knees up, she hugged them to her chest. The worst thing of all was that for a split second, she really wanted to hurt that teacher. She had never felt such a violent rage, and it scared her.
But maybe the instructor was right and she had no business trying to get into the food industry. Possibly she had no talent, and she only deluded herself. Perhaps she should just get a brainless job walking the runway. Everyone seemed to think her looks was all she had to offer.
As one thought after another tumbled down on her, she cried harder and harder until she no longer had tears to shed.
After a while, Caitlin got up from the floor and began to pick up the scattered papers. She was starting to feel a little embarrassed at her tantrum, and was glad her roommates weren’t here to witness her breakdown. When she signed up for the intensive program, she didn’t know that it was going to be so difficult and stressful. She spent six to twelve hours in class every day, and when she got home each night she was beyond exhausted. Then on top of that, she was getting more misses in her practicals than hits. She felt almost tempted to quit her studies, move back to San Francisco, and try to get her old customer service job back. She might even be promoted to a managerial position like her friend. It might actually feel good to live above the poverty line for once. But though she contemplated her options, she knew that she couldn’t just give up. All her hopes and dreams were riding on completing the program and landing that lucrative job at Signatures. Working at the world-renowned restaurant would help her gain tremendous experience, and would prove to be a launching ground for success. Then once she garnered enough knowledge, she could then open her own establishment. If she quit now, none of her dreams would come to fruition.