Turn up the Heat Read Free Page B

if not twelve to fourteen, hours a day. He caught me one morning covertly trying to apply cold cucumber slices to his exhausted eyes while he slept. I hated Josh’s schedule, but he wasn’t the least bit surprised by the hours he was putting in. Josh felt strongly that
    Simmer’s success rested on him. Gavin might be the owner, but it was Josh who seemed to feel the most pressure to have the restaurant succeed. The majority of restaurants fail within the first six months, and Josh was determined that Simmer wouldn’t be one of them. Now that he’d finally found the ideal place to showcase his culinary, artistic, and managerial talent, he was giving Simmer everything he had. The menu was all his, which didn’t happen at every restaurant, and Josh had complete control over every dish that was served. Gavin had been really great to Josh, too, and promised him that the better the restaurant did, the better Josh would do in terms of both hours and pay. Right now Josh’s salary was almost laughable, but Gavin just didn’t have the money to pay him what he deserved. The start-up costs involved in opening any restaurant are astronomical. I wanted to believe Gavin’s promises, even though it seemed odd that an executive chef working on Newbury Street didn’t get a decent salary, never mind a fat paycheck. In spite of everything, though, I was thrilled for Josh and convinced that Simmer would be the place he’d really make a name for himself in the competitive world of Boston restaurants.

TWO

    LEANDRA arrived, followed by two young Hispanic busboys, all carrying plates of food. “Here we go,” she said, delicately placing her plates on the table. “I’m sorry these took so long. We’re having problems with this new computer system Gavin is trying out. All the orders have to be entered into this elaborate program, and then, theoretically, they’re magically sent to the kitchen, but we keep having trouble. Anyhow, we got your orders through, and then Josh sent this out for you, too.” Leandra set an oval platter in the center of the table. “Tempura lobster tails with a sweet chili sauce.”
    Oh, wow! Lobster was one of my absolute favorite foods. I took this additional dish as a sign of love from my chef.
    “You know what I pay for these?” Owen said, reaching across the table to help himself to one of the golden servings. “And you know what I sell them for?”
    “You probably pay nothing and sell them for a lot more,” I guessed.
    Owen had recently quit his position as a puppeteer’s assistant to work as a seafood purveyor for a company called the Daily Catch. Before he’d found out that Ade was pregnant, he’d bounced from one quirky occupation to another. After hearing the news, he’d miraculously taken it upon himself to look for a somewhat traditional job.
    “That’s right, Owen.” Doug jumped in with interest. “I haven’t seen you since you started with the fish thing. What’s that like?”
    Looking proud of himself, Owen said, “I’m what’s known in the business as a seafood purveyor. I work for a company called the Daily Catch. We sell seafood to restaurants. So I get up by six, check my cell phone for orders from chefs, write those down, and then write up a price list. See, every day I get faxes from the companies we buy the seafood from with their prices. We buy from them and then sell to the restaurants. I’m kind of the middleman, so I mark my prices up based on what we’re going to have to pay. Then I take my delivery truck and drive down to the seafood district in South Boston’s waterfront, where I put in my orders, load up the truck, and I’m off to deliver everything. I’ve only been with them for a few weeks, but I’ve already got a bunch of great accounts. And Josh even dropped his old company for me!” Owen beamed with satisfaction at having persuaded Josh to switch purveyors. Simmer had decent-sized orders for Owen almost every day, but Josh knew enough not to let Owen