SCRATCH Vol.2

Part.1 Soho Act 2

"Shouldn't you be getting back to Graham?" The young line chef squeaked at Nicky.

"Don't worry about Graham, Will," Nicky said soothingly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Just concentrate on what you're doing." With trembling hands, Will lowered the tweezers. It hovered above the soufflé, creeping closer to the remarkably light and fluffy dessert.

"Easy does it," Nicky guided him, stepping back to give the young chef space. "Just place it on gently." Biting the inside of his lip, Will placed the tuile atop the soufflé. However, as soon as the wafer touched the pudding, the lattice snapped in two, and the soufflé tragically began to deflate in slow motion.

"Oh no!" Will cried, throwing his hands up in disappointment. As he did so, he accidentally knocked over the rack of condiments beside him with his forearm. A trio of sauce bottles clattered onto the bench, knocking their lids off and splattering their thick, sticky contents all over Will's station, turning it yellow, purple and white. "Damn it!" He whined, letting his head drop as he rubbed his eyes exasperatedly.

"It's fine," Nicky chuckled softly, stepping in front of him to grab the plate. Quickly glancing around the kitchen to check if anyone was watching, she casually waved the dish towel she had in her hand over the mess. In seconds, the sauces retreated into their bottles, leaving no trace of the spillage. She set the plate to the side before rearranging the bottles and manually wiping the surface down, making it look like she was cleaning the space herself.

"I can't believe I did it again," Will sighed frustratedly, ripping the navy blue cap off his head to reveal a mop of blonde hair. "That's like the third tuile I have broken tonight." His eyes then fell upon the bench, and his jaw dropped in surprise. "How did you do that?" Will croaked, ogling at Nicky in disbelief.

"Do what?" Nicky cocked her head, slinging the towel over her shoulder, feigning incredulity.

"That!" The line chef pointed at the space where the sauce had spilled, which was now spotless.

"I cleaned it," Nicky shrugged and gave the chef a wink. "No big deal." She smiled to herself as she turned away from Will, leaving the young man scratching his head as he inspected his suspiciously clean bench. Nicky had returned to her station and begun eagerly replacing the dish Will had messed up when a booming voice grabbed her attention.

"Where are hands?" The stout, grizzly head chef shouted, placing another dish on the service counter to the right of Nicky. "C'mon people! Orders on twelve and twenty are up!" Getting on his tippy toes, he reached over the counter and fervently rang the bell.

DING! DING!

"Keep your hair on, Graham," a feminine voice with a faint Irish accent sang from just outside the kitchen. Appearing on the other side of the counter a moment later was a woman not much older than Nicky. Her butterscotch hair, cropped short so it curved under her ears, glimmered brightly under the light of the heat lamp as she reached for the plates.

"Ha ha, Lilian," Graham scoffed, snatching the remaining receipts on the counter. "Where are the rest of your staff?" He asked gruffly, peering at Lilian from the corner of his eye as he self-consciously adjusted his cap.

"Bloody busy! But don't worry, I've got it covered," Lilian snapped back. "The bar is getting smashed, and we had an explosion in the bathroom to deal with, but it's all under control. I've got your plates. Twelve and twenty, yeah?"

"Yes!" Graham barked, sliding a new pair of dishes in front of him to inspect.

"Oh! And Nicky?" Lilian crowed, pausing with a plate in each hand.

"Sup?" Nicky peered up at the counter.

"The man at table seven sends his compliments," the maitre d' grinned, her blue eyes twinkling. "Wong, I think he said his name was." Nicky rolled her eyes, eliciting a hearty laugh from Lilian. Returning her attention to her plate, she listened to the woman's laugh fade into the sound of the crowd outside the kitchen.