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Public Access Kitchen.

A burnt-out chef discovers the cameras might be worth turning on.

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Cover of Public Access Kitchen by Robert Walnut
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CHAPTER ONE

Pretty Good

At five sixteen, Chef was on his knees under the hand sink looking for a screw that had no business being as important as it was.

The screw held the lever that turned the water off. Without it, the lever came off in your hand. The sink still worked, technically, in the same sense that a car still worked if you had to open the hood at every stoplight.

“You need a flashlight?” Luis asked.

“I need the fucking screw.”

Luis switched on his phone and held it under the sink. The screw was behind a leg. Chef could see it, but his fingers couldn’t quite reach it, and lowering his shoulder another inch would require a new shoulder.

“Tongs,” he said.

Luis handed him a pair.

“Clean ones?”

“They’re clean.”

“Get another pair for service. These are floor tongs now.”

The screw rolled away twice before Chef caught it. He got up in sections, using the sink for the last part, and tightened the lever with the screwdriver he kept beside the first-aid kit. Nobody had put that screwdriver there but him. Nobody else seemed to remember it existed.

The lever held. He washed his hands, changed his apron, and went back to the line.

He had been at Fowler’s since eight thirty. Receiving was supposed to happen at nine, but the produce driver liked to come early because it put him ahead of traffic. Chef understood. He preferred being ahead of things himself. It was the reason he was there when the delivery came and the reason he was still there when the guy who fixed the dishwasher finally showed up at three.

The repair had cost three hundred and forty dollars. The dishwasher had then worked for twenty-seven minutes.

“Wash side’s filling again,” Rosa called.

“I know. He’s coming back.”

“Today?”

“That’s what I asked him.”

Chef checked the chicken thighs. He moved a tray of cooked ones into the holding cabinet, pulled the next tray forward, and wrote the time on a piece of tape. The kitchen smelled of roasted onions and the garlic bread the dining room gave away before anyone had ordered food. Grant had increased the bread portion last month to improve perceived value. He had also asked Chef to explain why bread cost was up.

THAT’S THE FIRST LOOK.

The trouble continues in the novel.