A quiet night cooking for friends was always how Rox preferred to spend an evening. Although her idea of a quiet evening and cooking for friends involved a staff of twenty and about a hundred friends, in the bar where she worked, she wasn’t going to split hairs. The comfort of this kitchen—any kitchen—made it the place she gravitated toward.

“Hot behind,” called Caleb, as he passed by with a tray of piping hot short ribs. Steaming and sizzling pops of the sauce rang out throughout the kitchen. Everyone stayed out of his way as he moved them over to the plating station. The clamor and clank of pots, pans, and every other manner of commercial kitchen appliance filled the room with a clanging cacophony as steam and flames rose from the teams manning the range. The twenty-person team worked together to get out all the food to the hungry friends, including their soon-to-be former boss, since Mark was abandoning them.

Running things in the kitchen had its advantages. Rox got to mingle with everyone at the party, but steal away when making small talk tired her out, into her own organized chaos back in the kitchen. The fact that this party celebrated Mark and Jen, his girlfriend, moving to NYC had her popping out into the alley for a breather every so often. They would be leaving for NYC in only a couple of days. Mark would be starting a new bar in the city with the startup capital Liam invested in The Bramble LA and NYC.

“3 out on short ribs,” Caleb called out, using his tongs to flip them over and sprinkle some sesame seeds on top. Wiping her hands on the towel tucked into her pocket, she joined the line to start plating some of the appetizer trays going out. The casual shindig called for tables of apps instead of a sit-down dinner or appetizers passed by servers. Grabbing one of the giant squeeze bottles filled with a sauce for garnish, she took a plastic spoon out of a cup up on the shelf and squeezed some out onto the spoon.

Giving it a quick sniff, she smiled and popped the spoon into her mouth letting the creamy, slightly vinegary flavor roll over her tongue as she licked the spoon clean.

“Who made this béarnaise?” she shouted, holding up her spoon. The kitchen came to a standstill, everyone froze in place, and someone reaching for the other bottle of béarnaise pulled their hand back like they might be bitten. Reluctantly, Caleb raised his hand, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his chef’s whites.

“I did, Chef!” he called out, his hands wringing the towel tucked into his apron.

“Damn good job, Caleb. Who taught you how to make this?” she said, smiling, letting her voice carry as everyone in the kitchen collectively exhaled.

“You did, Chef,” he squeaked, glancing around.

“I did, but you did excellent work on this. Good job.” She nodded her head at Caleb and he bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Thank you, Chef!”

“Okay, everyone back to work.” Caleb had struggled with that sauce for weeks until they finally sat down and worked through it together. He was green, hell she was green for someone running a kitchen, especially one as popular as The Bramble, but he’d done a great job and she was always sure to let everyone in the kitchen know when they did or when they screwed things up, like the giant flaming pan on the range right now.

“Michelle, check your pan,” Rox shouted. Michelle, who congratulated Caleb with a goofy grin, whipped around and promptly turned the fire down and covered her pan, earning her a glare from Rox and a sheepish look from Caleb as he went back to his station.

Putting the finishing touches on a couple of trays of the mini steak bites, Rox handed them to the servers to put out for the party goers. The party gave her a chance to try out a few new recipes. She always preferred not to try them out on the paying customers the first few times. She knew how much Jen loved all her mini dishes, so she’d prepared a spread that would ensure she would miss her food and hopefully come back to visit often.

Not needing to stay up until 1am added another bonus to the private party. She loved cooking, loved prep—hell she even loved cleaning up, but staying up late…she hated that part of the job with a scalding, 'slicing your finger on your new knives' passion. Being a night owl pretty much came with the territory as a chef. Thankfully, as the boss, at least the boss of the kitchen, she scheduled some afternoon shifts for herself when she could. Her staff were top notch and she trusted them to follow her work to a tee when she wasn’t around, but not being in the kitchen during service didn’t happen too often.

She preferred the kitchen to her apartment, the two places she could be found ninety percent of the time. She hadn’t done anything to personalize her apartment even though she’d lived there for almost two years. Force of habit, maybe. It was second nature at this point to be ready to pick up and go at a moment’s notice. Growing too attached to any personal items wasn’t something she’d become accustomed to. Getting kicked out of the house at seventeen with little more than the clothes on her back meant she didn’t acquire a taste for sentimental objects. And the thought of putting up pictures or buying knickknacks hadn’t ever appealed to her.

Maybe she should do something crazy and buy a throw pillow or two. Maybe get a plant… Her team moved along like a well-oiled machine and even her stations were taken care of. There was, however, a huge stack of empty boxes left by the back door that everyone seemed to be ignoring. While taking out the trash wasn’t usually on her list of duties, on a relaxed night like this, she didn’t mind.

Picking up the boxes, she butt-bumped the door and shouldered her way outside to put them in the dumpster. Walking past her motorcycle and the cars parked in the alley, she lugged the boxes along and tried not to think about Mark leaving. It wasn’t going to be the same without him. She’d have to make sure he’d informed Liam about her payment requirements.

Paid in cash or a cashier’s check were the only ways for her to avoid her ex. She’d learned her lesson about opening a bank account after move number three. She wasn’t sure what connections he had, but after he got out of jail, he always seemed to find her. It must have been his parents' connections. She had no idea why they would help, but they weren’t exactly the best judges of character when it came to their son.

The giant spotlights Mark had installed turned on as she walked past and lit up the alley. He’d had them put in after the vandalism and gas leak over the past month or so. She caught a shadow out of the corner of her eye. She jumped and stared at the entrance to the alley, as a cat jumped down from the smaller garbage cans set up over there and scampered out onto the main road.

Mark had done so much for her when she first moved to town, putting her up in his apartment when they first met, much to the chagrin of his then fiancée. How many people would do that for a stranger? His friend, Keira, was volunteering at the shelter where she was hiding out and she’d gotten Rox in contact with Mark. He’d made sure she was safe from her ex until they sorted out something permanent for her.

He didn’t have much money for a real chef and she didn’t have many people who were willing to take a chance on an almost culinary school grad with no work experience. It had been trial by fire, sometimes literally in those first couple of years with the ancient equipment back in the kitchen. The place was super old and the recipes even older, but she’d made it work with a bare bones crew in the kitchen and wearing about ten hats daily. It had given her time to experiment with food in a way she hadn’t been able to before. It made her the chef she was today, running the kitchen of one of the hottest new bars in LA. She’d be forever grateful for all he’d done to help her.

As much as she loved Mark, she cursed him for his choice in an investor, namely Liam. He knew how much they hated each other, how much Rox hated Liam, but the opportunity Liam had offered was something he couldn’t pass up. He invested in The Bramble LA, getting Mark out from under the evil thumb of his conniving ex and gave him all the startup capital he needed to open a new location in NYC. Since they were college buddies, it was practically no strings attached. Not a chance that came along very often, if ever.

Rox shook her head. How in the hell was she going to put up with working for Liam? Would he get rid of her since he hated her food so much? She lifted the giant plastic lid on top of the dumpster and started chucking the boxes in. The cardboard boxes were no match for her as she let her anger and frustration fuel her cardboard slaughter. She ripped apart the last box and chucked it over the side of the dumpster. Maybe because she was being so noisy or because she was distracted about how things would change at The Bramble, she didn’t notice anyone near her until someone grabbed a handful of her hair, smashing her head into the dumpster. Her vision blurred like she was inside a giant bell. Everything around her vibrated and she cried out at the pain in her scalp, her attacker’s fingers tightening, which made her cry out again. She grabbed at the hand holding onto her head and tried to whip around to get away from her attacker. Crystal clear blue eyes, burning with rage glared down at her. He’d found her! Fear slammed into her even harder, her heart hammering hard as numbness traveled through her body, paralyzing her completely.

Shock froze her in place and her vision swam. She couldn’t even move her arms to protect herself. That sickening free-falling feeling hit her stomach. Tears formed in her eyes, like they did whenever she’d unleashed his wrath. Tremors wracked her body.

How the hell had he gotten out of prison and no one had told her? Her vision clouded by the blood dripping from her forehead, she could only stare at him in horror as he pulled his hand back and delivered a stinging backhand to her cheek.

Pain exploded through her head and e her eye pulsed from the blow. Finally, able to move at least a little she brought her arms up to try to protect her head and neck. Old habits returned to her as the shock wore off.

“Juliette!” She flinched as he spat her real name at her. “Did you really think I would let you get away?” he sneered, alcohol on his breath as he shook her. Rox whimpered, hating how quickly she reverted to who she was before. Who she’d been with him. It only made him feel stronger, but she couldn’t shake it.

“I always told you there was only one way for you to ever get away from me.” He pushed her up against the dumpster, her body trembling. The paralysis started to wear off. Her eyes were wide as she glanced back at the dumpster, clawing at the sides of the cold, dirty metal, trying to get away from him.

“Jon? Jon, stay away from me!” She tried to push him away, trying to untangle his hands from her hair, but he slammed her head back against the dumpster. The metal scraped across her back, catching on her pristine white chef’s coat.

“What did I tell you?! You don’t get to leave until I say so, Juliette.” he shouted, spittle landing on her face as his bruising grip increased on her arm. She couldn’t help but cry out at the pain. An evil grin spread across his face like it always did whenever he hurt her. Oh, there was always ‘remorse’ and apologies later, but in the heat of the moment, she knew he enjoyed the things he did to her.

“Go to hell, Jon. Get away from me!” She pushed against him with both hands and he gripped both of her wrists, bending them to the point she thought they would snap. Her breath caught in her throat as the pain wouldn’t even let her scream.

“I say when you go,” he said, relaxing his grip slightly. Rox attempted to push him away again, but it was like she was that teenager again, weak and unable to fight back against him. Her feeble attempts to push him off only enraged him more, as his face turned beet red and he turned his lips up in a vicious smile.

“What did I tell you?” he said again, but this time he pushed his body against hers and wrapped his hands around her neck and applied pressure. Her hands came up to cover his. She clawed at them to try to get him to release her. Her lungs burned and her vision dimmed. Tears sprang to her eyes as she threw her head from side to side.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A voice boomed from behind Jon. Suddenly, Jon’s weight was no longer on her and he was flung to the ground. Sliding across the concrete, his head whipped up as his wild eyes glared at whoever had come to her aid. Rox bent at the waist, gasping and coughing, trying to get some air back into her burning lungs. She wiped at her face now covered with blood and tears.

The sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and grunts and shouts filled the warm evening air. Rox didn’t stop to look. She ran straight back into the kitchen. In shock, she stumbled past her team who were so engrossed in their work they didn’t even notice her and pushed into the main room of the bar. Flinging the kitchen doors open, she froze inside the room as several pairs of eyes turned to her. Panting, she glanced around, eyes wild. Mark appeared in front of her. He gently grabbed her by the arms and forced her to sit. Everything happened in a blur. One second everything moved at light speed and the next things were garbled and slow. Everyone was freaking out around her. Her head swam as her heartrate gradually slowed and she could breathe again. Drops of blood were dripping onto her chef’s whites. That was going to be a bitch to get out. Had anyone plated the next round of appetizers? Had her ex just tried to kill her again? Someone reached out and put a cloth to her head, holding it there while her hands sat limply at her sides.

Had someone remembered to take the braised short ribs out of the oven? What about the poppers? She needed to get back into the kitchen. She tried to stand but strong hands held her in place. She glanced up and Jen stared down at her. Her kind eyes shined with unshed tears.

“Sit, Rox. Don’t try to move,” Jen said, gingerly, rubbing her arms over Rox’s shoulders. Rox glanced down at her feet. A drop of blood dripped onto her shoe, the blood spreading across the fabric.

What was she going to do now? She didn’t want to leave. She had a place she belonged now. She’d have to pack up and leave again. Once she got some rest she’d figure out what to do. Her shouldered slumped, exhaustion setting in, she just wanted to lie down.