horror on her face as she realized her human body was dying. Then the rage that erupted in her as she took on her new vampire form. The love was gone—snuffed out with her humanity. I was alone again. And so I have stayed.
There was something sensual about the way chandelier light bounced off wine glasses, casting an intricate pattern across the table. The way it highlighted yet masked the intimate smiles and longing glances between lovers. The shared hunger in their eyes and bellies, their appetites wet as delectable dishes were placed before them. I loved the way food could make you feel things. It could sweep you away and transport you to exotic places. Make you laugh. Make you want to rip your clothes off. And it could even make you cry.
The first time I made Alex a chocolate souffle, he didn’t let me leave the bedroom for two days. That’s when I realized the power of food. And the appeal of a new relationship. The passion and luster quickly faded, but my desire to become a chef grew every day. Food gives you the power to create memories. To make people’s fantasies come to life. To let them taste their dreams, if only for a night.
For now, I would have to settle for serving them beautiful plates and living vicariously through their faces. The not so subtle expressions of joy and awe as the sauces swirled against their tongues, morsels of tender meat chewed slow and savored, and then finished with sips of wine bursting in decadent flavors across their lips.
“Hello, Raven? Are you listening?” The cute perky blonde server waved a wine glass in front of my face.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry, Tori. I’m just taking it all in.” Well, that wasn’t going to make a great first impression.
She looked at me like I had two heads. “There’s a lot to learn here, country girl. If you can’t handle it, let me know now so I don’t waste my time.”
Country girl? “No, I’m good. I promise. Please, continue.” Ever since I was a kid, my mind would wander off, daydreaming about this or that. It took a lot of focus to stay present.
I scurried after Tori throughout the restaurant as she rambled on about the menu, employee gossip, and which guests were the most important. She offered suggestions on the best ways to deal with the kitchen and showed me how to make a tableside Caesar salad. She showed me where the linens were, how to avoid locking myself in the walk-in fridge, and the Dolce Sale way to approach a table—which was by greeting them in Italian.
“Buonasera. Good evening. Welcome to Dolce Sale, can I start you both off with a couple of drinks? I’d highly recommend trying one of our famous Bloody Manhattans,” Tori chirped. She was good at this. The couple didn’t even hesitate and agreed to order whatever she told them to.
I checked the cocktail menu for reference. Bloody Manhattan—bourbon and red wine mixed with simple syrup and garnished with a black Italian cherry. Sounded fancy. It was shaken and then poured over ice into a martini glass. The handsome bartender—Max—poured some into a shot glass and offered it to me. “You gotta know what it tastes like if you’re gonna sell it.”
I took a small sip so as not to look like I enjoyed drinking on the job. “Delicious.”
Max grinned. “It’s our most popular drink. Made with top shelf bourbon, they go for twenty bucks a piece.”
It made sense that Tori was pushing them on almost every table. At least on the ones who weren’t already starting out with hundred-dollar bottles of wine. Everything was expensive here and the clientele proved it. While I didn’t recognize all the important faces, Tori made sure to point out who was who. Everyone from supermodels, movie stars, business tycoons, to tech magnates and even politicians ate here.
The tables filled up fast and by eight PM, there wasn’t an empty one in the whole place. The bar was so packed, I could barely see Max through the crowd. It made me nervous. The way Tori navigated through her section like she was throwing a party in her home, it was intimidating. Small talk didn’t flow as easily for me. Back in Maplewood, I knew everyone, so there was none of that awkward ice breaking happening. And the expectations weren’t exactly five star.
“Keep up, country girl. I need you to run that plate to table five and get