Stirring Up Trouble

Excerpt

"Welcome to the Church of the Holy Cabbage. Lettuce pray."

Author Unknown

"Please not today Deb." Toby clutched the phone tighter and glanced around the crowded kitchen. "It's going crazy and we haven't even slowed down since the lunch rush. Tell me you're kidding."

"I wish I was." His sister's voice told him everything he needed to know. If she were any more desperate he'd need a dog to hear her. "You know I never do this if I can avoid it, but I have to take this deposition or my ass is on the line. And you're the only one left for me to call. Can't you get someone to cover for you for a half hour?"

"Then what?"

"I'll come get him at the restaurant as soon as I can. I'll make it up to Geoffrey."

"Geoffrey is the least of my worries." Toby glanced at executive chef Eduardo, who was already raining fire down on an underperforming pantry chef. "Eduardo is here and he hates me, ever since I ran my mouth that time the Olsen twins came in and one was wearing a coat that looked like it was made from Dalmatian puppies."

"Oh, shit. Is he still mad about that?"

"That and the time with that kid Dante in the walk-in freezer."

"He could have been seriously scarred by that. He might have required skin grafts."

"I didn't tell him to do it. I just found him that way, how many times do I have to tell that story. The kid was going to cooking school and he didn't know dry ice is cold? Eduardo is just waiting for me to screw up."

"Because he's the most recent in a long, long line of executive chefs who have tried to help you grow beyond your stupidity."

"I'm being really, really good." Toby crossed his fingers. "I promise. And it's not going to help if I have to bring Adam in here and hide him until you can come get him."

She paused for a moment, as if that made things better. "I have no one else."

Toby sighed. It didn't matter whether the executive chef was there, he could probably find someone to take his place on the line while he picked up his nephew. He had done it before, quietly stashing the boy in an area where he could manage him until he could leave or Deb could pick him up. Shit.

"I'll be there in ten." Toby hung up and pulled off his apron. He headed for Geoffrey cautiously, prepared to sheer off if he caught Eduardo's eye.

"Deb needs me to pick up Adam." He lowered his head so their conversation wouldn't be overheard.

"Toby? Today? It's a nightmare."

"I know. There's no one else. I'm it."

"Go. Run, and don't let Eduardo see you bringing him in. He's headed out to press the flesh, and my guess is he'll be there for a while, but seriously..."

"Discretion. I get it. Thanks." Toby was already on his way out the door. "Back in twenty."

Toby was still shaking his head when he emerged from the back door of Les Trois Artistes, and turned left, running as fast as his foam clogs could carry him. He traveled four blocks on East 19th Street and turned right at the corner, then took the next two blocks at the same frantic pace, and up the steps of Adam's preschool two at a time. Five minutes passed while he waited for Adam to clear up his play area and pack up for the day, and then the two of them hurtled out the door and chased down the street together, dodging pedestrians and dog walkers.

Toby never understood why it was so much more difficult for two people to run down the street, even given that Adam was four and had shorter legs, but it took him fully twice as long to get back as it did to go. Every damned time.

He was sweating when he entered the door of the restaurant with Adam in tow. Adam waved to all his restaurant friends, dutifully sitting on the stool by the phone and taking out his current obsession, an electronic handheld game sized and geared for his four-year-old abilities. Adam sat there thoughtfully, quiet as a mouse, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, while Toby returned to work.

By the time Geoffrey came back to check on him he was once again caught up and working the line, as if he'd never left.

"What time will Deborah come get Adam?" Geoffrey asked. "One of the pastry chefs said she thought she recognized a food columnist out there from Eating Manhattan Magazine."

"Shit, seriously?" Toby asked him, glancing around nervously. "Deb said she'd come as soon as she can..."

"Oh, my fucking... Do I need to talk to her again?"

"I wish you would," Toby answered. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't hear me."

"I will then," Geoffrey assured him. "This isn't all right. Strictly speaking we can get coded for this at the very least. If that food columnist wanted to check out the kitchen..."

"Send someone to let me know and I'll hustle him out the back. The school kicks him out at one-thirty. What could I do?"

"I know. You know I know."

Toby smiled and plated a tarragon chicken with a creamy pan sauce and handed it off. "And you know I know you know. I owe you."

Geoffrey buffeted him with his shoulder and moved on. "Be prepared."

Twenty minutes passed and there was no break in the action. Every so often Toby turned to check on Adam. He seemed content to play with a couple of paperclips and a small elastic creature that he'd pulled from a box in his backpack. He shot Toby a sunny smile, and Toby threw him a thumbs-up.

Most everyone in the kitchen liked Adam. The line cooks talked with him on slow days and the pastry chefs always had something sweet to tease his palate. His appearances made everyone clean up their language except for Frank, the butcher, who wasn't about to clean up his language for anyone.

Toby was fully prepared to pull him out the back door or into the bathroom at the first sign from Geoffrey. He told himself that today was no different than any other day. The food was first rate and there was nothing to be afraid of.

Toby felt a tug on his pants leg. He had both hands busy searing scallops and shook it off, paying no attention to the sensation until it came again.

He looked down and saw Adam standing right next to him, holding the small cardboard box that contained his toys in one hand. Fluffy brown hair flopped back away from his face when he tilted his head up and gazed at Toby with lake blue eyes. He blinked slowly. "I lost my little man."

Toby pulled the scallops off heat. "What?"

"I lost my little man. He was on the paper clip, and then, zoom." Adams lower lip pushed out. "Gone."

"I'm sorry I can't help you find him right now." Toby shook the pan with the scallops and added a few ounces of sake off heat, then tipped the pan to ignite the fumes. "We'll find him later, all right? Watch, I get to make things catch fire!"

Adam smiled. "Mommy says fire isn't okay."

"This is cooking fire, Adam. It's okay here because I know how to use it."

Adam waited a minute then tugged Toby's pants again. "Can we find my man now?"

"No, peanut. I'm still working." Toby plated the scallops and handed them off, pulling another pan close and turning a pair of pork chops with tongs.

"But I know where he is. He fell in the flowers."

"The flowers?" Toby said absently, pressing a finger to a fiery chop to see if the meat was done. "He'll be fine in the flowers, we'll get him later. Maybe he can take a nice nap."

"But I saw Ann put some flowers on someone's plate, and I don't think my little man is there anymore-"

"You what?" Toby stopped everything he was doing to pay attention to Adam. "Say that again."

Adam pointed at Ann, the pantry chef, whose job it was to prep salads. "She put some flowers on the plate and I think my little man was hiding in them."

"Oh, good fucking..."

Everyone turned when Eduardo bellowed, "Geoffrey."

Toby had no chance to move, no chance to hide Adam. They stood there practically clinging to one another as an enraged Eduardo towered over Ann holding Adam's tiny elastic man. "Can you explain, Ann, just what the hell this is doing in the Salade aux fines herbes avec Camembert?"

Ann quaked and bowed her head. "I'm sorry sir."

"It's mine," Toby heard Adam say in his clear, high voice. "Give it."

A freakishly small man with a mustache like Salvador Dali stalked over. He wore dark glasses and a beret, and Toby nearly laughed out loud. Was this a restaurant critic? Who was he kidding? How could he ever think he was incognito?

"Are you responsible for this abomination?" He tilted his head back and looked up his nose as if he were looking down it, at Toby.

"I am, sir." Toby folded his hands in front of him. "I take full responsibility for the accident and I assure you..."

The little man reached out and caught Adam's hand, the one that held the cardboard box, and pulled on it until Adam was practically hanging by it. "This should not be here, I think."

"Hey, now..." Toby's heart pounded hard in his chest as he reached out for Adam to disengage the man's hand. "You wait just a damned minute. Take your hands off my nephew."

"Ow." The lid of the box flew off and the unmistakable sound of marbles hitting the hard floor shattered the silence like a thousand BBs as they scattered everywhere and all hell broke loose.

Adam wailed and scrambled on his hands and knees trying to pick up his toys. There were about fifteen marbles in all, a number of extremely small cars, and six action figures, every one of which seemed to roll under the worktables and across the prep areas. The first person to go down was the furious food critic, his face a mask of outrage as he slipped on one of the marbles, and when he landed on his ass Toby swore he heard the very same noise a rubber squeak toy makes when a dog bites into it.

Ann was the second casualty, but she fell backwards over Adam when she tried to shrink from Eduardo's continuing tirade. All Toby could do was chase Adam and try to corral him even though the damage was done. The kitchen was a terribly unsafe place; at the very least, Toby knew Adam could be spattered with hot grease, at worst, knives could fall, fiery pans could tumble. Toby's heart rocketed against his rib cage as he hunted the boy down.

The staff cursed in at least four different languages that Toby could discern; the loudest of all was Eduardo, whose heated Italian diatribe could have cooked the food all by itself.

"You," Eduardo finally spat at Geoffrey when Adam crawled between his legs, "are so very fired!"

Geoffrey clenched his teeth together and said nothing further. Toby was grateful that he didn't look around in that moment. Toby had to catch Adam, and anything he could say to Geoffrey, any apologies he could make had to wait. By the time he caught up, there was a minor fire on the grill and three station chefs were injured enough to require ice.

The furious little mustache man was threatening to sue someone, and Eduardo was apoplectic. Toby very nearly had Adam in his grasp when the strangest thing happened. A tall man-a god among mortals; so chiseled, so handsome, shiny, and blond, so dimpled he could not be real-sailed through the door and picked Adam up effortlessly, holding him high off the ground and charming him instantly.

Adam shrieked with happy laughter.

"Hello what's this?" The man sang out in a perfect, hauntingly beautiful baritone voice. A chorus of angels couldn't have done it any better. The entire room fell silent when they heard it. Toby found himself holding his breath. "Has someone lost you, my friend?"

"Um..." Toby cleared his throat. He tried again, but still sounded like a braying donkey compared to the amazing, luscious man holding Adam. "I'm sorry sir. I'll take him now."

Eduardo hurried forward as Toby took Adam from the stranger. Toby noticed Geoffrey trying to get his attention. He kept jerking his head toward the beautiful stranger and rolling his eyes. There was a hand motion like writing on a pad of paper. Toby had no clue what it meant, but he inched backward while the kitchen began to function again and the sounds of cooking resumed. He hoped to beat a hasty retreat.

No such luck.

The stranger arched a supercilious brow and folded his arms across his chest. "Eduardo? Do you have an explanation for this?"

Eduardo sagged like a marionette with cut strings. "I am in hell."

"Mommy says hell is a bad word." Adam chirped.

Eduardo turned on Toby. "You."

"Yes sir," Toby answered. I am so fired. I am so fired. If I live through this I am so completely fired.

"You are the author of all of this...madness?"

"I am." Toby pushed Adam behind him a little.

The stranger-god pursed his full, rosy, yet superlatively chiseled lips. "I'm not going to hold back sir, I think it's deplorable that you attempt to keep your child here while you work. You should be fully ashamed of yourself. Someone should probably call social services."

Toby's eyes bugged out.

Eduardo's narrowed as he looked at Adam. "I believe I might do that very thing." He turned on Toby. "But first, I want the pleasure of telling you that you are fired. I fire you. I fire you and all your relatives. I fire your ancestors and your descendants. I fire the very air you breathe and the ground you walk upon."

"Mommy says fire isn't okay," Adam poked his head out from behind Toby, even as he gripped Toby's checkered chef pants so tightly in his little fists they began inching down Toby's hips.

"I'm very sorry, piccolo uomo," Eduardo smiled a smile that should have frozen everyone in the room solid. "Signore Toby will never be fired again because I will see to it that he will never work again, capisci? No more fire, ever, because no more work. He will have all the time in the world to play games with his piccolo uomo."

Toby nodded. He had to grab his pants in one hand and take Adam's hand with the other. He had nothing left over with which to hold onto his dignity, but it was long gone anyway.

Eduardo was still speaking. "And then we shall see to it that there will be no more work for Geoffrey or Toby anywhere in this state. Not a restaurant, not a sandwich shop, not a hot dog cart, do you hear me?"

Geoffrey and Toby looked at one another and shrugged.

Geoffrey would be forgiven. Everyone knew that. There wasn't a better sous chef to be had. Toby was fully expendable, but Geoffrey only had to suffer through another tirade. Adam gathered what toys he was able to find and placed them in his little cardboard box. He sat back down on the stool next to the phone and stuffed his things in his bag. He didn't look up while Toby finished cleaning out his locker.

"Okay Adam." Toby said. "I'm ready."

Adam still didn't look up. After a minute Toby noticed dark spots on Adam's khaki school pants where his tears had fallen.

"Adam?" Toby squatted down on Adam's level and looked him right in the eye. "How come you're crying?"

"I'm-" Adam held on until he uttered the first word and then he popped like a soap bubble and everything gushed out. "I'm so sorry Uncle Toby." He threw himself at Toby, who dropped everything and barely caught him without falling on his ass. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lose my little man in the flowers."

"It's all right, sweetheart," Toby told him. "It's not your fault." He hugged the tiny shaking body close to his and rocked him a little. He took the time to rub the little back-which shook with sobs-and cursed his sister for putting them both in this position. When Adam's sniffling subsided, Toby took his hand after helping him gather up their things.

"Toby, wait." Geoffrey had thrown off his chef's coat and was in the process of pulling a soft sweater on over his head. "I'll walk you out."

Geoffrey started to offer his sympathy. "Look, Toby, I'm so sorry-"

"It's all right. I deserved what I got back there. When that food guy grabbed Adam's hand I blew a gasket. I should have been-"

"Excuse me." The tall, attractive man who'd confronted him about having a child in the restaurant kitchen approached. "I found these in the hallway." He handed over a number of marbles and an action figure.

When Adam took them from him, Toby asked, "What do you say, Adam?"

"Thank you." Adam mumbled.

The man-god cleared his throat. "I'm not sorry about what I said, about calling social services. I am simply appalled to see a child in the kitchen like that."

Geoffrey grimaced. "Toby, meet Tad Christopher."

Toby gazed at him. "Tad Christopher? Get out of town."

"That's me."

Geoffrey nudged Toby, "Food writer. I tried to tell you."

"You?" Toby offered his hand but Christopher just gazed at it as though it were dirty. "Oh, shoot, I thought they were talking about mustache man." Toby finally withdrew it. "Toby Andrews. I'm sorry for the disaster. Please don't blame it on the restaurant. I really never will work in this town again, if it makes you feel any better."

Tad Christopher smiled convivially. "It does actually. Food is a serious business. Customers deserve good meals. Kitchens need to be sanitary and orderly. I don't have to tell you that a failure of organization in the kitchen can cost a customer more than a bad meal."

Toby felt smaller with every word the man uttered. "I understand sir."

"Toby, if I may speak plainly, you seem like a decent young man. You have a very fine son. You obviously care a great deal about him and that's a commendable thing. But believe me when I say that you have no future in the restaurant business. You lack good judgment and are clearly unable to follow important rules. No chef should have to put up with the crap you put Eduardo through today."

Adam's head snapped up to gaze at the tall stranger. "Mommy says crap isn't an okay word."

Tad Christopher bent over at the waist and smiled at Adam. "And mommy would be right, my friend, but at this point it's the least offensive word I can think of for this situation. Tell mommy that sometimes the truth hurts, will you?"

Adam nodded.

Tad Christopher smiled his man-god smile and sauntered off.

In a low voice, Geoffrey said, "What a prick."

"No," Toby spoke so Adam couldn't hear. "He was right. It was an appalling breach of etiquette-"

"Let me tell you a little thing about Tad Christopher, shall I?" Geoffrey leaned over. "Tad Christopher is all over the news with that reality show girl and he's best pals with that congressman, the family values guy. That man is a cash cow for the conservative cause and a bachelor auction favorite. One of New York's most eligible, right?"

"I know. I didn't recognize him without the baseball cap and sunglasses. He dates the rich girl with the dog-in-a-purse. The senator's daughter? It's like he's the unknown Kennedy."

"That's the story he's sticking with. But you know Kevin from Tango, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, Kevin's broken a rule or fifty in his years in the kitchen, and some of those breeches occurred while Tad Christopher's legs were wrapped around his neck. Don't let the man bring you down. He's a fine one to talk."

"No. Fucking. Way."

"You know Kevin."

"Kevin's a big talker."

"Ah, but I didn't hear it from Kevin. I heard it from Rachel, the pastry chef, who caught them in flagrante delicto with the whipped cream dispenser."

"You're just messing with me."

"On my honor."

"Tad Christopher in the Tango kitchen with real whipped cream?"

"Sounds like Gay Clue, doesn't it?"

"Oh, my G-"

Adam tugged on Toby's pants leg. "Mommy says it's not okay to say God's name when you're not praying."

"I am praying, sweetheart." Toby sighed. I'm praying that hypocritical rat bastard has to go to the hospital with a nitrous cartridge up his ass so far they have to drag him down the hall on a rope like a Macy's parade balloon.