Chapter 8
Her roommates were working, so as soon as Caitlin walked into the apartment, she banged the door as hard as she could. The vibration of the slam shook the walls and reverberated throughout the room. But she still wasn’t satisfied. Stomping into the living area, she reached into her school bag and took out her notebook. She then let out a loud banshee cry. Reaching inside to the pure rage contained in her core, she pitched her binder against the wall. The book ricocheted off the barrier, scattering the papers all over the floor. Backing up against the partition, Caitlin slid slowly to the floor. She then buried her face in her hands as her shoulders shook and the tears streamed down her face.
She would never be allowed in school again after the stunt she pulled in class. An entire room filled with people witnessed her moment of craziness. What was she going to do now? Half her fees were already paid, and if she didn’t complete this course, all of that money was going to be wasted. And if that happened, she would end up in a place worse off than when she started.
Drawing her knees up, she hugged them to her chest. The worst thing of all was that for a split second, she really wanted to hurt that teacher. She had never felt such a violent rage, and it scared her.
But maybe the instructor was right and she had no business trying to get into the food industry. Possibly she had no talent, and she only deluded herself. Perhaps she should just get a brainless job walking the runway. Everyone seemed to think her looks was all she had to offer.
As one thought after another tumbled down on her, she cried harder and harder until she no longer had tears to shed.
After a while, Caitlin got up from the floor and began to pick up the scattered papers. She was starting to feel a little embarrassed at her tantrum, and was glad her roommates weren’t here to witness her breakdown. When she signed up for the intensive program, she didn’t know that it was going to be so difficult and stressful. She spent six to twelve hours in class every day, and when she got home each night she was beyond exhausted. Then on top of that, she was getting more misses in her practicals than hits. She felt almost tempted to quit her studies, move back to San Francisco, and try to get her old customer service job back. She might even be promoted to a managerial position like her friend. It might actually feel good to live above the poverty line for once. But though she contemplated her options, she knew that she couldn’t just give up. All her hopes and dreams were riding on completing the program and landing that lucrative job at Signatures. Working at the world-renowned restaurant would help her gain tremendous experience, and would prove to be a launching ground for success. Then once she garnered enough knowledge, she could then open her own establishment. If she quit now, none of her dreams would come to fruition.
Suddenly a knock sounded at the door, startling her out of her thoughts. A cold streak ran down her spine, and she became paralyzed. Did the professor call the police? And if he did, were they here to arrest her? Maybe if she didn’t make any sound, the person would go away. But then a second rap sounded. The person on the other side of the door was certainly persistent.
Getting up, she crept quietly to take a look through the peephole. Her heart began to race when she saw the person at the door. It was Jason. Probably it wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but she grabbed the handle and swung the door open.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. Then a new thought occurred to her and her body stiffened. “How did you find me? Did the professor send you?”
“No, I came here on my own,” he said. “After practical, I ran into your friend Jane. She told me that someone found your knife set in the girl’s change room. She was looking to give it to you, but you were nowhere to be found. Since your address was written inside your bag, I offered to bring it over.” He handed the bag to her. “So here it is.”
Caitlin stared at the black case in his hand. She didn’t think she would ever see it again. Was this a sign that things weren’t over just yet?
“Thanks.” She took the bag and started to shut the door.
“Caitlin, wait.” He placed a palm on the wooden panel, preventing it from closing. “It’s not like you to skip classes. Don’t quit, okay? You have to go back.”
She looked down the hall to see whether anyone was in the corridor. He had come all this way to drop off her knife kit. Upon reflection, she knew it was rude of her to leave him standing in the hallway. She beckoned him inside.
“I suck at cooking,” she sighed as she closed the door behind him. “And I threatened one of the teachers with a knife, remember? They’ll probably arrest me as soon as I set foot on campus.”
“Just go back,” he said. “I’m sure everything will be all right. On Monday morning you can go to the instructor and apologize for what happened. You’ve been under a lot of strain — everyone has. And since he’s a teacher at the school, he should understand this.”
Jason must have seen the doubt in her face because he shook his head in puzzlement. “Why do you put so much pressure on yourself?” he asked softly. “Is it because of the job placement that’s promised to the top student?”
“I don’t think you’d understand.” Without meaning to, her tone came out sounding petty and insecure. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Everything comes easily for you.”
“Don’t you realize that you’re just stressing yourself out?” he said, ignoring her jab.
“Well, duh, you don’t think I noticed this? Getting that job placement is important to me. It’s my one shot at getting into a career I love. But I can hardly expect you to get it. Because look at you,” She gestured at his designer clothing. Even his flip flops were the top-of-the-line. “You’re a rich boy and have everything at your disposal. I’m sure if you wanted anything, Mommy and Daddy would buy it for you without even blinking. I don’t think you can ever understand where I’m coming from.”
A frustrated expression crossed his face and he threaded his fingers through his hair. “Look, before you start attacking me, we need to establish that I’m not your enemy. I came to return your bag, and for some reason, I want to help you out.”
“Help me out? Why would you do that?” She leaned one shoulder against the wall in the hallway. With one eyebrow cocked, she watched how he would respond to her pointed question.
“I don’t know.” He lifted one heavy shoulder as if the question perplexed him as well. “Maybe it’s my boy scout deed of the day. So will you accept my offer to help you or not?”
She considered his proposal. In all the classes that they took together, he appeared to know what he was doing. Each week the overall grades were posted on the classroom wall, and she couldn’t help but notice that his marks reflected his competence. If anything it was wise to align herself with someone who was doing well in the curriculum.
“All right,” she said, making her decision.
“Good,” he said and grinned. “The first thing we need to cover is that you don’t — under any circumstances — stab your teacher.”
“I lost my cool for a moment, but I never intended to stab him, all right?”
“Well, we need to get this out of the way, just in case.”
She shook her head and gave him an exasperated look. He let out a bark of laughter. “The other thing is that you need to relax. If you want to work in a kitchen, there’s bound to be a lot of pressure. And if you’re super stressed, you won’t be able to perform.”
“Do you have trouble performing under stress?” she asked innocently. Her gaze skimmed over his muscular frame, making no mistake about what she referred to.
His nostrils flared slightly as understanding reflected immediately in his depths. His pupils dilated and she felt the wicked heat of his gaze.
“Now who thinks she’s funny?” he mocked, his tone softening.
She delicately cleared her throat, aware that they were entering dangerous territory. Jason looked as if he wanted to say more, but he shook his head as if to break the connection between them. She felt a vague sense of disappointment when he moved away from her and walked into the kitchen.
He stood in front of the refrigerator. “May I?” he asked.
At her nod, he opened the fridge and poked his head inside. “For an aspiring chef, your fridge is pretty empty,” he declared as he closed the door. Turning to her, he twisted his masculine lips to the side. “We need to hie you off to the grocery store.”
They drove to the nearby Foodland and got all the necessary supplies. When they returned to her apartment an hour later, she pulled out her notes on how to prepare guinea fowl breasts stuffed with fresh herbs and roasted vegetables. The first thing she needed to do was to debone the fowl.
“According to the instructor, we need to make the incisions like this to get to the breasts,” she said showing a diagram to Jason. She picked up her phone and scrolled through the pictures to find the finished dish. “And then the end product should look like this.” She stared at the image. The demo instructor’s creation was something typically found at a four-star restaurant. Her version, on the other hand, was something that might be served at a potluck.
Grabbing a peeled potato, she began to cut it.
“Make another cut,” Jason said, studying her movements.
She sliced another chunk of the spud and started to dice it.
“First of all, we need to get your knife work under control.”
“I cut and diced vegetables for nine months when I worked at the Hawaiian Peak Resorts,” she protested.
“You worked at the hotel for nine months and you cut like this?” he said with astonishment.
Caitlin looked down at the vegetable pieces on the cutting board, and frowned as if they were the cause of all her problems. “Whenever I lose focus, my cutting goes a little awry,” she admitted.
“When you’re in the kitchen, your life outside no longer exists. You can’t be thinking about what you’ll do after your shift. You can’t be thinking about your boyfriend. The only thing you need to do is to concentrate on the task at hand.”
“Sometimes I can’t help it.”
“That’s why you have to get control of yourself. You can’t get your panties in a knot while working in the kitchen.”
“How do you know whether I’m wearing panties?” she asked, unable to resist teasing him.
Jason opened his mouth and for a moment he looked startled. “I wouldn’t know.” A heart-stopping smile slowly spread across his sculpted face and he winked. “But I’m open if you want to show me...”
“In your dreams,” she said giggling. “Admit it. You fell right into that one!”
His deep laugh rumbled in his chest, and as they cooked, they fell into an easy banter. Three hours later, the entire apartment smelled of roasted garlic and cooked fowl. At school, cooking was a stressful and rushed affair, but preparing food with Jason was relaxing and fun.
Caitlin set up the kitchen table to accommodate the dishes that they prepared. She went to the cupboard where she and her roommates kept a stash of alcohol and picked out a bottle of wine. Pouring the amber liquid into two glasses, she then handed one to him.
“This was the best practice session I’ve had since school started,” she said, clinking her glass with his. “Thanks for coming over, Jason. I really needed it, and I learned a lot today.” She tipped the wineglass to her lips, drinking the entire contents before pouring another helping.
“I’m glad to assist,” he grinned. “I can pick up some things tomorrow, and we can go over more recipes.”
“You don’t have to,” she said shaking her head. The day had caught up to her, and she was tired. And since she hadn’t eaten until now, the alcohol’s effects were immediate. For the first time in a long time, she felt mellow and happy.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I don’t mind coming over again. It’s not like I’m doing much anyway.”