Part 2

[b]Part 2[/b]

Dennis watched one of his sous chefs closely as he prepared the lamb for the premiere dish of the night.

"That's it, let the knife do the work." Dennis instructed.

The stocky sous chef responded immediately, "Yes Chef."

When the sous chef was finished, Dennis nodded his head in approval. The boy had potential. But, as he offered a lukewarm word of encouragement, Dennis couldn't help but feel a strange sense of dread. Was he becoming too soft on his kitchen staff? He seldom treated his front end workers with much respect. After all, waiting tables was easy, took no talent and required very little discipline. On the other hand, Dennis knew learning to be a chef was extremely difficult and took dedication. He accepted that he was easier on kitchen staff, but, had his baseline respect for them become too friendly? He shook his head while wiping mint sauce from his hands. He would have to re-examine his priorities later as the hour had already flown by.

One of his female hostesses entered the kitchen with the same blank expression he expected from his front end staff. She wore a black formal dress and her chestnut hair was held in a bun. She'd been around awhile, but Dennis never bothered learning any names outside the kitchen.

"Mr. Foxworthy it's 1900 hours." She stated in a monotone voice.

"Open the doors." Dennis responded coldly.

"Yes Sir."

With that, the woman turned and exited back to the dining room.

Dennis craned his neck to see his chefs lined up and waiting on him expectantly.

"Right lads," He started, "I want a perfect service tonight. You're all capable of performing so do it with some passion and show me why you deserve to be here."

"Yes Chef!" They shouted in response.

"Move." Dennis ordered.

The kitchen staff broke apart and began a flurry of action all around the kitchen. Satisfied, Dennis opened the door to the dining room and saw that everything was ready. The sun had gone down and candles on each table illuminated the room.

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The front end staff were standing in a semi circle in their formal uniforms and white gloves. All eyes were on Dennis and the room was silent.

He put his hands on his hips and shook his head, "Do your fucking jobs and don't embarrass me."

When nobody moved, Dennis snapped, "Fucking go!"

The staff scurried away like rats.

Dennis put on a stern expression as he made his way to the restroom. He always like to do a final once over of the facilities. He entered and was met with a muted but sweet aroma. The men's restroom was spotless as he expected. The hardwood floors, dark tiled walls and shining brass fixtures gave an unmistakable air of sophistication. Even the bathroom in his beloved restaurant looked expensive. He approached the circular mirror and braced himself on the expensive Tibetan bowls he had spent a fortune on.

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Dennis stared at himself. His stern expression faded, but the wrinkles and frown lines folded in his face did not. He wore his salt-and-pepper hair short and slicked back. His prominent Adam's apple protruded from his neck and a smattering of beard stubble scratched at his chin. He was a rather tall man with masculine facial features which he had always admired about himself. His crisp chefs jacket flattered his tall, strong body. He looked himself in the eye. He may not have had that fiery, wily, killer instinct he had in his youth, but his experience and prestige more than made up for it. He'd recently felt the slowing touch of age but shook it off as best he could. He knew he didn't have time to slow down. He hadn't become the sole owner and executive chef at '[i]La Maison[/i]' because he was a pushover. Sure, he'd stepped over a few people to become the man he was, but that was the nature of the business and Michelin Stars speak for themselves.

As Dennis took a few breaths and washed his hands, he heard the door to the closest stall click open. He hadn't realized there was another man using the restroom. He hadn't expected to wear his 'owner and executive chef' persona so quickly. Nonetheless, he regained his stern expression and professional composure. But, much to his surprise, a woman exited.

She wore a pink and black dress with heels. She was a bit older than Dennis, but still looked well put together. The most striking feature she had was the hateful expression she wore. Dennis couldn't imagine hating someone or something as much as this woman appeared to. It put Dennis' dour frown to shame.

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She locked eyes with a bewildered Dennis and her hateful expression lingered for a few moments longer than was comfortable. Thankfully, it eventually broke and softened.

Dennis cleared his throat as he professionally explained, "Excuse me madam, this is the men's wash room. You'll find the women's just down the hall."

She, very obviously, feigned embarrassment which Dennis found alarmingly strange. The woman approached the mirror next to Dennis and turned on the water. She washed her hands slowly and stared at him through the mirror.

Her voice was cold and strong, "I've been looking forward to tonight."

Dennis felt a chill crawl up his spine though he maintained his professional demeanor, "I'm happy to hear that madam. I hope the experience will exceed your expectations."

She dried her hands on a nearby paper towel and grinned, "Oh, I'm sure they will." She turned and opened the door to the dining room as she added quietly, "Good luck Mr. Foxworthy."

The door closed with a soft thud and Dennis was left standing alone. He shook off the chill and refocused his mind. After one final deep breath, he pushed the door open and entered the dining room. He glanced around, looking for the strange woman, but couldn't seem to locate her. He shrugged his shoulders and watched as his wait staff seated customers at their tables. The patrons for the night looked exactly as they usually did. The men wore full suits while the women wore dresses and heels. It wasn't a stated rule, but everybody knew the expectation was formal attire.

Dennis stood proudly. He could feel many of his patrons eyes resting on him. They knew who he was because they were there to experience what he had to offer. A soft chattering echoed through the hall as the night began in earnest. Dennis' full time sommelier darted across the floor, offering wine and recommendations to the patrons. He was expensive, but absolutely worth it.

Dennis loudly cleared his throat and the chattering ceased immediately. The wait staff stopped what they were doing and waited.

All eyes were on Dennis as he spoke clearly and confidently so the whole dining room could hear, "Allow me to welcome you to '[i]La Maison[/i]'. I am the owner and executive chef Dennis Foxworthy. Today's menu features a stunning rack of lamb, a beautiful filet mingnon and an elegant lobster tail. Please consult with any member of my staff should you need anything at all. Enjoy."

A round of applause roared through the dining room. It wasn't uncommon and Dennis certainly enjoyed hearing the appreciation of his customers, though he refused to allow his face to show it. Once the praise had died down, and the quiet chattering began anew, Dennis turned and headed towards the kitchen. For some reason he couldn't shake the memory of the old woman's hateful stare. He shook his head and forced his mind onto the menu as he pushed open the kitchen door.

Showtime!