Holly versus Mr. Ivy by Amanda P. Jones
Chapter 7
Holly
and anxiety from the last few weeks melted off. Rhett and I still had a lot to do to increase revenue, but we’d made headway, which eased my worries. I didn’t know what it was about Skye, but something just connected me to her. I was excited to get to work with her, and hopefully with this new goal-setting and reward system in place, my employees and I could start fresh.
My mood brightened further when both Marcus and Skye accepted their job offers and said they’d be able to start in one week. Rhett was ecstatic and said the next item after tackling the vendors was discussing the menu. He wanted to change up what we offered. I hesitated when he told me. The food we sold was familiar. My staff knew how to prepare each dish to perfection. Was switching it up when we hired new people a bad idea?
Not only that, usually when I wanted to change a dish, my chefs and I came together to test it and adjust any flavors as needed. After that, we offered it as a special for a month to see if customers ordered it.
We had to bypass every single one of my safeguards. But Rhett’s other ideas had worked so far. Maybe this would as well?
In an effort to improve the environment—especially in my kitchen—while still maintaining control, I decided to start with complimenting my employees more often. Small, simple, but hopefully effective.
During prep time on a Friday night, Darby had chopped carrots exactly the way I liked them. Instead of ignoring that fact, I’d managed to say through the cotton in my mouth, “Those look great. Good job.”
Her eyes had bulged as big as a cartoon character’s before narrowing. “Thank you.” She stated it like a question.
Obviously, we had work to do, but I was determined to do my part to reach our goal. Besides, it was easier being nicer to Darby knowing her time at The Boardwalk was limited.
I’d moved past Darby to Josh’s station. “That garlic is minced to perfection.”
He eyed me like I’d become a zombie. “It’s the same way I’ve always done it.”
“Then keep up the good work.”
Josh shot a worried glance Darby’s way. I’m sure they wondered why I’d spoken to them in the first place, let alone saying something nice.
Progress. No matter how small, that’s what I focused on.
Rhett no longer stayed in the kitchen corner observing, either. He wandered throughout the entire restaurant. Some nights I didn’t see him at all after we opened. Not that it bothered me or that I was keeping track or anything. Rhett was the first manager I’d worked with who seemed to care so much or who wanted to include me in the operations side, which was the reason my eyes strayed to him anytime he entered a room.
No other reason, like his square jaw, mesmerizing eyes, or stop-you-in-your-tracks smile.
Jessica, a waitress, came into the kitchen with a scowl on her usually smiley face. She had one of those grins that brightened up a room, with wide lips and sparkling green eyes. Was she okay?
She grabbed a basket of rolls and butter and headed out the door that separated the kitchen from the dining room. I shrugged, going back to plating the roasted chicken for table nine.
I got lost in what I was doing until Jessica came back in, this time with red cheeks. Her freckles got lost against the flush of her skin. Jerry, who handled the soups and salads, eyed her.
“Are you okay?” Jerry asked.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Jerry’s plump lips pulled down. “If you say so. Here’s your soup for table five.”
“Thanks.” She snatched a tray, placing the five bowls of soup on top.
My senses tingled. I followed behind Jessica, but stopped right outside the door, still hidden from the patrons in the dining room. She dropped off the food and went to the next table over. A booth full of “suits” (as I’d heard the waitstaff call the high-powered men who came after work) beckoned her over to their corner where they sat.
Jessica wrote something on her pad of paper, then made her way to the four gentlemen. The second she got there, the man on the end slid a hand up the outside of Jessica’s thigh, planting it on her hip. Jessica side-stepped, making his hand fall. The man’s lips quirked up, like Jessica presented a challenge he was more than happy to overcome. My blood boiled. I clenched my fists, ready to go over there and tear into those losers when Rhett came into my line of vision.
One of our other waiters pointed behind him to Jessica, and Rhett’s eyes narrowed, his jaw set. He marched to the table, placing a gentle hand on Jessica’s shoulder.
I was too far away to hear what words they exchanged, but Jessica hightailed it toward the kitchen, while Rhett stayed at the suits’ table. Thank goodness Rhett had gotten involved and taken care of it.
When Jessica saw me standing there, I redirected her down the hallway to my office, motioning her inside.
She plopped down into the chair, cradling her face in her hands. I took the pink overstuffed chair next to her. I didn’t involve myself in the waitstaff’s business. Jessica might not appreciate me pulling her in here, but I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Not when I knew what it felt like to have someone touch you without permission.
Awkwardly, I reached a hand over and rubbed circles on her back. “I don’t know what those guys said, but I saw that disgusting excuse of a man touch you. Does that happen often?”
She dropped her hands from her face but didn’t look at me. “Not really. If it does, it’s usually men like them.”
I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the sudden emotion clogging my airway. “I had this instructor.” I inhaled a steadying breath as I relived one of the darkest days of my college career. “He, um.” Blinking back the sudden tears that pricked my eyes, I tried speaking again. “He asked me to stay after class one day. I thought he wanted to discuss the sauce I’d made. Turns out he wanted something else entirely.” I could still feel the pressure of his hand on my backside. His hot breath on my neck, his dry, cracked lips pushing against my skin. I squeezed my eyes closed, forcing the image away. “Anyway, as terrible as it is, I’ve been there, and I’m sorry you’re dealing with it. That shouldn’t happen. Ever.”
She sniffled. “I’m glad Rhett stepped in when he did. Normally, we have to ask one of the guy servers to switch with us—or just suffer through it.”
Suffer through it? My heart hurt. For her. For me. For anyone who had to deal with any kind of abuse. I didn’t get it. Why? Why were pigs like that still around? “Do the waiters usually agree to switch?”
My office door flung open. Rhett poked his head in, a worried expression creasing the skin around his eyes. “Hey,” he said softly, coming into the room and closing the door behind him. “Are you okay?”
Jessica glanced over at Rhett. “Yeah. Thanks for taking over my tables. I just need another minute, then I’ll get back to work.”
He tucked his chin, his brows furrowed. “You’re not going back out there until they leave.”
“That could be another hour!” she protested. “I’ll miss out on tips, and it’s not fair to the others to make them pick up my slack.”
Rhett shook his head. “I’ll cover for you, and you’ll still get the tips. I’m more worried about you.”
“Rhett,” she whined, “I’ll be fine.”
“Your safety at work is my number-one priority,” Rhett said. “Take a break. I’ll come get you when they leave.”
Rhett eyed me as if silently asking me to keep an eye on her. I dipped my head once, and Rhett was out the door.
A surge of heat flowed around my heart. He was a good boss. Caring. Protective. Smart. I internally groaned, annoyed that the man had a lot of good qualities (besides being attractive) that made me admire him.
I touched Jessica’s knee. “I need to get back to the kitchen. You’re welcome to stay here until Rhett comes to get you.”
She softly smiled. “Thank you, Chef Dewhurst.”
“You’re welcome.” I stood, heading to the kitchen with mixed emotions. Except I didn’t quite make it. I stayed in the hall, battling flashbacks of my own assault. Angry that idiots like those men existed and couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. What right did they have to touch another person like that? Were they so far detached from society that they thought behaving in such a despicable manner was okay?
Could we kick them out of the restaurant?
And then there was Rhett. The way his strong back had stood straight, it was clear he was protecting his staff. But then he’d been so gentle with Jessica.
I saw Rhett in a whole new light. It terrified me because that rattled the separation between work and personal life, breaking huge chunks from my defenses. Rhett was kind. Sweet. Concerned.
If I wasn’t careful, I’d be calling him Rhett to his face and spilling my every thought.