Chapter 8: #HotSimmerNight

“It smells like Tuscany in here,” I said, breathing in the rich aroma of tomatoes and basil. “What’s on the menu, Cam?” The bistro’s tiny kitchen felt like a clay oven, trapping the heat. Platters spread across two long steel tables as servers and kitchen staff hustled in the cramped space, multitasking.

Cameron, a Pritzker sophomore on a scholarship to eventually become a flight surgeon for the Air Force, worked with military precision. Even the way he diced vegetables for the sauce was methodical.

“Hey, Prin, I didn’t know you were a pre-med superstar,” he grinned, slicing an onion for the sauce.

“Great—guess even the bistro knows about that now,” I cringed, replaying the image of digested food splattering onto my face.

“Huh?” He looked at me, confused. Maybe the video hadn’t circulated beyond our freshman class.

“Never mind. What are you talking about?” I quickly changed the subject.

“I mean how you saved that woman’s life at the White Coat Ceremony. All the servers were talking about it,” he said, glancing up from the cutting board, his eyebrows raised. “You’ve got some skills beyond hostessing.”

“Thanks. I’m just glad she’s okay,” I replied, picking out a few entrées to take to the dining area. “I guess it’s good I already know a bit of biology before I start the lab next week.”

“No way! I’m one of the lab TAs for that class. Hopefully you’ll be in my group—we get our roster right before the first session on Monday.”

Dr. Niall. Of course. Now I saw the resemblance. At least I’d have one friendly face in the lab besides Madison.

Cam quickly shifted topics, proudly holding up a dish. “Beef Bolognese. My first masterpiece. I saved some for you,” he added, pointing to the fridges along the back wall.

“Thanks! First anatomy TA, now sous-chef, next flight surgeon—you’re the real rock star, not me.”

Cam had been saving me a box of food every night since I started. My growling stomach must’ve given me away during every shift. Thank god for Cam’s leftovers—most days, that box was the only real meal I got.

The evening was warm, and the open kitchen windows only made it hotter. I wanted to escape into the air-conditioned restaurant, but as the manager on duty, I needed to oversee the kitchen staff too.

Crash!

A dish shattered in the back, sacrificed at the hands of our rookie dishwasher.

The sound made my heart double its pace.

I’d been on edge since the anonymous death threat, and now I forced a deep exhale through my mouth, willing myself to stay calm.

My fingers fumbled for the small hourglass in my pocket.

Had it been the same one I’d dreamed about in the ER?

Could that dream… really have been the future?

“Ciao!” I could hear the servers greeting customers with cheerful tone—the only Italian word they’d retained from their onboarding training.

Early in the evening, Ariana, our shift manager, had rushed over to me. “Prin, my six-year-old has a nasty rash. Can you be a dear and close up the restaurant tonight?” She didn’t even glance up from her phone.

Tap, tap, tap. Her pink nail extensions clicked on the screen, keeping time with the loud pings of incoming texts. Being a shift manager gave her the privilege of never silencing her ringer—and avoiding eye contact. Her poor son Ben seemed to have the worst luck. Over the past month, he’d suffered through chickenpox, a broken wrist, and hand-foot-and-mouth disease.

“Poor Ben!” I said sympathetically as she grabbed her coat and headed out. It was the third night in a row she’d left early.

“Tell me about it,” Ariana replied. “He’s got a delicate constitution, like his dad.”

“Give them my best at tonight’s share circle,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm, though she was already out the door before I finished.

Cam turned to me with a puzzled look. “Huh? What share circle?”

“On the commune,” I said with a broad smile. “They must live on one, to avoid the mandatory chickenpox vaccine for five-year-olds starting school.”

He laughed. “You should totally call her out on it. I’d pay to see her reaction.”

“I wish I could, but I need this job,” I said with a sigh, then headed back to the restaurant floor, ready to close up the busy bistro at the end of the night. Maybe tonight I’d finally get some sleep. 

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