City lights fill the night sky as I stroll down a bustling Sixth Street. With the street being closed off to vehicles for the night, I am able to do a little people watching. Crowds line the sidewalks with people attempting to get into the bars. A few whistles and catcalls sound as I pass by. Unused to the attention, I flinch slightly as heat warms my cheeks, and my steps quicken. Two blocks later, I find the restaurant on the left and cross the street.

There is a line of patrons out the door, waiting for tables. I pass them as I make my way in the front door and approach the hostess stand. A tall blonde girl stands off to the side behind the round, wooden stand, glancing behind her. A shorter hostess nods in my direction, holding menus and silverware in her hand.

“How long's the wait? I don’t have a reservation. At least, I don’t think I do,” I say when the blonde gives me her attention.

The blonde hostess rolls her eyes.

“We don't take reservations.” The hostess looks me up and down. “It’s an hour wait.”

“Wow, okay.” I look down at my watch.

The hostess sighs, her impatience radiating off her body. I take in a deep breath, as I try really hard not to be rude.

“Can I sit at the bar, or is there a wait for that as well?”

“The bar itself is first come, first serve. The tables in the bar area are not. Would you like to give me your name for when a table opens?” the blonde inquires rather rudely.

“Calla.”

Both of the girls’ jaws drop, as realization fills their eyes.

“Calla? As in the head chef of Belladonna?” the shorter one confirms.

Everyone within hearing distance turns to face the three of us. With so many eyes on me, I start to fidget.

“Yes.”

“Um… Calla, we might have a table for you sooner.” The hostess leans closer, the rudeness now gone as she speaks quietly to me only. “I was told to seat you as soon as you arrived. This way please.”

“Seriously, I’ll sit at the bar. It’s fine. Let someone else have the table. Y’all have a big crowd. It’s pointless to waste the seating on just me.”

The short hostess smiles and leads the way to an open bar seat.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The hostess places the menu in front of me. “Max will get you whatever you need,” the girl adds and heads toward the kitchen.

The bartender saunters over, smiling charmingly at me.

“Hi, I'm Max. What can I get you to start with?” He leans against the bar as if giving me his undivided attention.

“Hi Max, I’m Calla. My friends said I'm supposed to have fun tonight. Just try not to get me too drunk… deal?”

“Calla. You wouldn’t happen to be friends with the guys over at Belladonna would you?”

“I would. Which one of my partners in crime do you know?” An evil grin pulls at the corners of my mouth. Oh I bet you have some interesting dirt on one of my boys.

“I went to bartending school with Adam, but I’ve met Wes and Trey a few times,” he responds, placing a square napkin on the bar top. “If I remember right, I think I read somewhere you have a thing for whiskey?”

I nod.

With a big, mischievous grin, Max pushes off the bar. I’m sitting at the end of the bar, away from the majority of people, watching the patrons out on their dates. Max gathers the bottles he needs and starts creating something just for me. I watch his mixology skills in fascination. I never get to watch Adam work his magic behind the bar, and he makes fucking amazing drinks. Finished mixing my drink, Max quickly returns. He sits a highball glass down in front of me.

“You’re a people watcher aren’t you?” He tilts his head toward the full dining room.

“Sometimes. I tend to peek out of the kitchen to see what the patrons are doing in the front of the house, instead of walking onto the floor.” I smirk as I take the glass.

“You prefer the chaos be in the kitchen, rather than out?” he questions, pulling orders from the printer.

“I do. The heat and chaos of the kitchen is a bigger thrill.” I sip my whiskey. “So what would you recommend?” I open the square, leather-bound menu.

“Either the Ahi or the Tri-tip. Caleb does both extraordinarily well. Get the roasted brussels sprouts with spinach, bacon, and garlic, and add a side of the tempura cauliflower.” Max shakes the shaker in his hand, before pouring the dirty martini.

“I haven’t had Ahi in a while, so I’ll take that with the sides you suggested.” I close the menu, placing it on the bar.

“Good deal. I’ll put that in for you.” Max sets the martini over by the pickup counter.

I watch as he swipes a card and enters something into the computer. The bar starts to fill, and Max’s attention is drawn away.

So I don’t feel stupid being alone at the bar on a Friday night, I pull out my phone. I’ve missed a few messages and emails. I take another sip of my drink and dive into my texts.

Uncle GR: Calla, I need you to call me. I want your impression of Canaille. I’m going next Friday. You know I like to see how the chefs handle the pressure.

Oy, he really wants to live up to the nickname, Grim Reaper.

Calla: Do you want to meet for lunch tomorrow, or would you rather I just send you my impressions in a text?

I start to open the next message, this one from Nessa, when my phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Uncle GR: Lunch tomorrow would be lovely. I’m dining at a restaurant right down the street from Belladonna. I’ll send you the name later tonight. I don’t have it in front of me.

Calla: Okay, I can’t wait to see you.

I close out of that text, and dive into Nessa’s.

Nessa: I’m not sure what the guys are playing at to get you out of the restaurant on a Friday. We are slammed tonight, and I want you here so I can vent! We’ve had a couple of assholes come in. Also, I got a strange request after you left for a large group for next Friday night. They wanted to make sure you would be in. The name they gave was Abbie. Does that ring any bells?

Calla: Wes wants me to get out and get laid. Therefore, I’m getting kicked out of my own kitchen to check out these other restaurants in the hopes, I think, of finding someone to fuck. Sorry you’ve had some asses tonight. Come out and have a drink later. I don’t recognize the name Abbie.

A new glass is placed next to my almost empty one.

Glancing up, I meet Max’s crystal blue eyes. How did I not notice those before?

“Thank you. Can I also get a water please?”

“Coming right up.” He winks.

From the corner of my eye, I spot the hostess glaring at Max.

“I don’t think your girlfriend appreciates your flirting,” I add casually as I finish my first drink.

“My girlfriend?” Max asks with a confused expression.

I nonchalantly peek over my shoulder to see where the hostess has gone, and gesture to the young woman with my thumb.

“No, definitely not. She likes to think she controls the front of the house, though. I guess she does in some ways, but I wouldn’t go anywhere near her. The look she’s sending this way is more likely that she sees you as competition. And she definitely doesn’t like competition.” Max drums his hands on the bar.

“Competition? Why would I be competition?” I stir my drink.

“You’ll find out, I’m sure. Now, let me go see if your dinner is ready.” Max heads out from behind the bar, only to be stopped short.

A tall, black-haired man, probably in his early forties and dressed in slacks and a chef’s jacket, carries a tray of food into the bar. He looks vaguely familiar. Like I’ve seen him in the paper, or maybe around town. Max steps back behind the bar. The chef places the tray next to the bar and unloads four plates, placing two in front of me and the others next to the stool that has been vacated to my right.

The Ahi is mouth-watering, as are the sides Max suggested. The second plate has some sort of shrimp dish that I don’t remember seeing on the menu. Glancing at the other two plates beside me, the only difference is that instead of Ahi, one has the tri-tip, if I’m not mistaken. It is prepared perfectly. More rare than medium, so the center is a little red rather than pink. Max was right. I couldn’t have gone wrong with either dish.

“Max, can you keep this behind the bar for me?” The man hands the tray over to Max.

“Sure, Chef. Would you like your usual?” Max takes the tray, stashing it behind the bar before grabbing a highball glass from his counter.

“Please,” the man answers as he pulls out the chair and takes the seat next to me. “Chef Calla. I know this is a little presumptuous, but may I join you for dinner?”

I read the man’s name off his jacket. Chef Caleb Davies. Max’s comment about the hostess makes a lot more sense now. She has her eye on the head chef and owner of Nectar.

“It’s your restaurant. I’m pretty sure you can sit wherever you want,” I quip.

Max chuckles and places Caleb’s drink next to him. “Calla, let me officially introduce you to Chef Caleb Davies, owner of this fine establishment.” He winks at me.

“Max, can I get more water?” I am clearly going to need my wits about me.

“Sure thing, Calla.” Max fills a glass with some ice and water and places it on the bar. “If you need anything else, let me know.” He moves away from me and Caleb to work the other bar orders.

“So what brings you in tonight? I would’ve thought you’d be in your own kitchen.”

“Normally, I would be. But my chefs decided I needed to come out tonight to sample your food. This all looks delicious, by the way. It’s a little more than I asked for, I think.”

“Sorry about that. I heard you were here, and I wanted to whip up something a little extra for you. I also have a dessert coming out. I hope you don’t mind.” He takes his napkin off the bar and unrolls it.

“It’s fine. I might not be able to finish all this, though. So please don’t misconstrue that as I don’t like the meal.” I pick up my fork and dig into my first dish.

“The shrimp is a new item that I’m working on. You’re the first one to try it.” Caleb leans into me as if whispering in my ear.

I startle, almost dropping my shrimp, but recover quickly.

“What did you decide to call it?” I take the first bite, and the flavors explode in my mouth.

Crisp bacon engulfs the succulent tequila-lime buttered shrimp in a tight hug and sits atop fresh guacamole.

“I’m not sure what to call it yet. Maybe something with drunken in it. Or... with the tequila and guacamole, Mexican something. You got any ideas?” Caleb takes a shrimp and pops it in his mouth.

I swallow. “What about Mexican Drunken Shrimp? Or Bacon-Wrapped Mexican Drunken Shrimp?”

He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I think I like Mexican Drunken Shrimp. Thanks, Calla.”

“No problem.” I take a bite of another shrimp before digging into my meal.

Max pours each of us two glasses of wine, placing the different glasses next to the plate he is pairing the wine with. He also refills our water glasses. I take a drink of water then try the white wine Max has paired with the shrimp.

“Thank you, Max. This Pinot Gris goes beautifully with the shrimp dish.” I take another sip and face Caleb. “You know the guys I work with will absolutely love these, right?” I point my fork at the Mexican Drunken Shrimp. “And when I explain them, they’re going to want to create something like this.”

“I’m sure your boys can come up with something equally as good. So, I won’t hold it against them.”

I savor the Ahi, barely taking time to respond to Caleb’s questions as we eat. Max has paired another Pinot with the Ahi, though the Pinot Noir adds hidden depth to the tuna that I hadn’t expected. Not quite halfway into the main course, Caleb’s presence is being requested back in the kitchen.

“Calla, I’ll be back as soon as possible to finish dinner.” He takes my hand and kisses it.

“Thank you, Caleb, for a wonderful meal. And for the company.”

He picks up his barely eaten dinner and carries the plates into the back with him. As Caleb walks away, I return my attention to my dinner, and the wine pairing sitting in front of me.

Over in the corner, a small group consisting of Nectar staff congregates. The sensation of being watched tingles across my exposed skin.

“Does he have to go after her, too?” Max murmurs to himself in a low timber. I don’t think he intends for me to hear that, but I do.

I glance up in time to see the hostess huff, “You both need to cut it out!”

She storms off, stomping her feet all the way back to her post. Max laughs loudly as if someone told a good joke. Five gentlemen on the other side of the bar, regulars I’m assuming by their interactions with the staff, join in the merriment.