Who's the Boss? - Erin McCarthy Page 0,6

the position over me. Fair was fair.

That didn’t mean it didn’t suck, though. When the previous executive chef had announced his departure three weeks earlier, I’d had a moment of both optimism and panic. Because if Martin got the position, which he clearly had, what was I supposed to do? Hang around as number two for the next who-the-hell-knew-how-many years, or try to move on to another restaurant? I didn’t want to leave. I liked the family of staff I had become a part of at Bone. So I’d already decided I would stay for at least another year or two and see how things shook out working under Martin.

“I appreciate you’re trying to cheer me up,” I said as I rounded the corner and approached Bone. “But it’s okay. I’m not thrilled to be passed over, but I get the reasoning behind it and I’ll live.”

Spring in Brooklyn hadn’t arrived yet and there was still the remnants of a slushy snow that had happened two days earlier. The sky was overcast, suiting my mood.

“You need a win, Isla,” Savannah said. Then there was rustling. “Sully, put that down.”

Savannah was the mom of our group, both literal and figurative. She had a son that was just weeks shy of his first birthday and a new fiancé, her brother’s best friend from childhood. I was thrilled for her, but not thrilled with her constant insistence that I needed to date in order to find some sort of personal life fulfillment.

“If you’re second, you’re last, is that it?” I asked her, amused. I tapped the glass on the locked door of Bone and waved to Carla, one of the servers, to let me in. We didn’t open for dinner service for three hours.

“No! I just mean that I want you happy.”

That actually warmed my heart. She meant it. She was always sincere. “I am happy. It’s all good, Savannah.” I was happy. Maybe restless. Bored. In need of some hot sex. But not unhappy.

Carla opened the door for me with a smile. “Hi, Chef.”

“Hey, Carla.” I stepped inside and then I knew something was really up. The area where we usually had meetings, in the back of the restaurant, didn’t just have the usual setup of tables pushed together.

Yes, it was one long banquet table. But it was set for service. We never did that for staff meetings.

“I have to go,” I told Savannah. “I’ll talk to you later.”

After ending the call, I shoved my phone in my back pocket. “What’s going on?” I asked Carla. I saw the majority of the staff was milling around the restaurant. “I thought this was a management meeting.”

Carla shrugged. “I have no clue. They won’t let us in the kitchen. Nico is all hyped up. He’s like giddy or something.”

Carla did not look giddy. She looked like she’d spent the night before partying. Her hair, which was usually in a tight server’s bun, was wild and sticking out in multiple directions. She normally took out her nose ring before her shift, but now it was on full display, and her skin was splotchy, like she’d just rolled out of bed. She was shuffling like her head hurt.

“Nico is hyped up?” He was the general manager and he was a pretty no-nonsense kind of guy. I wouldn’t have described him as someone who got easily excited.

Martin was standing in the corner, talking to the bartender. I went over, unzipping my leather jacket. “Hey, does anyone know what is going on?” I fully expected Martin to mention his promotion or hint.

My co-workers both shrugged.

“No, I have no clue at all,” Martin said, actually looking seriously annoyed. “And if you don’t know what is going on either, you know what that means.”

My mouth dropped open. “You’re joking. Nico and Sid wouldn’t. Would they?”

The door to the kitchen flew open and the most junior staff server, Raul, came out with a tray with plates on it. Appetizers.

“Apparently, they would,” Martin said grimly.

The owner, Sid, had gone and hired someone from outside the restaurant to be the new executive chef.

Sid followed behind Raul, beaming and calling out a greeting. “Grab a seat, everyone. We have some exciting news.”

I swallowed hard, unprepared for the shift in fortune. I could work under Martin. I knew him, knew his quirks and demands and strengths. I did not want to work under a total stranger. That would be a complete pain in the ass, adjusting to a brand-new personality in our kitchen.

Yanking out a