Chapter 37

The hoopla didn’t die down, although I didn’t know if that was because this was more lasting, or that the show aired three nights a week during the first month of its run as it got through the auditions and all the prelims.

Tuesday’s episode featured parts of the interview I’d done with them, although mine was more truncated, I guess because they had to spread it over three weeks, while for people like Candi, this was their only week on the show so they could use up as much as they wanted.

It also showed a lot of stuff from the cast house that week, including that first night of partying where Candi hit on me. The reactions around school on Wednesday were mixed. Some people were just fanning out over me being on TV. Others, mostly guys, were calling me an idiot for not taking Candi up on her offer. And just about everyone was mocking me for being a nerd, since so many of the shots showing everyone partying had me in the background somewhere, doing homework.

Although I didn’t particularly want to see myself on TV, I’d begrudgingly watched the episode at home to get a feeling for how they were showing me. While it was mostly neutral or positive, I did notice it felt like the party was over maybe several nights, or the shows that week also happened over a week, instead of being shoved into a short three days. Which made it a little more reasonable for people to get the impression I’d blown off so much stuff to study, when in reality I was working with a very limited time window.

Wednesday night, I’d promised Chef I’d go to the Blue Ridge, again, for another showing. The last time his place had been packed, and his sales had been through the roof, especially stuff from the bar. While I’d had just about all the public attention I could stomach, I couldn’t begrudge him the business, so I drove myself up to the Blue Ridge that night.

Kat and Hanna were still at school, and Mrs. Phillips was at work, so for tonight, it was just me. The place was packed, with cars filling every spot and spilling out onto the grass. Chef had set up several large TVs outside, and had a huge open-sided tent set up nearby with rows of chairs underneath. There was a parking spot near the front, where someone had put a bucket and taped a piece of paper with my name to it, which was thoughtful, although it didn’t help with my weird feelings toward all the special treatment I was getting.

As I got out of my car, a cheer went up from the crowd gathered under the tent in front of the TVs. I grinned and waved. It was nice how supportive everyone was being, which was maybe one upside of very low-level fame. I was big enough to have just reached that bottom rung of ‘hometown boy made good’ status, but not so big that people felt like they needed to knock me down a peg or two.

Making my way inside, I saw that the restaurant was overflowing as well. Every booth and table was occupied, some hosting more people than they were designed for. Another cheer went up, but at least this time, there wasn’t going to be a speech or anything. Waitresses were running food, and Vinney was behind the bar looking absolutely swamped. I hoped Chef was giving everyone a bonus for tonight because they were working their butts off.

I pushed my way through the crowd, getting smiles and waves from familiar faces along the way, until I reached the kitchen entrance. I pushed through the double doors to find Chef directing the controlled chaos within, standing at the stove, holding a pan with a piece of fish in it.

“Chef, it’s a madhouse out there!” I said. “And what’s with the tent?”

Chef nodded, not taking his eyes off the sizzling pans in front of him. “The fire marshal said we had too many people in the building last week, and warned me not to do it again, but I was getting more calls this week asking if we were doing it again. I didn’t want to turn people away, so I thought, ‘Tent.’”

I leaned against a prep table, out of the way of the guys running here and there. “It feels like half the town showed up tonight. There’s what, three or four hundred people out there? Do you have enough food to feed all these people?”

“Almost five hundred, actually, which is like, I don’t know, a fifth of the town? Math was never my thing. And yeah, I put in a big order with my supplier last week. I’m glad I went overboard because I was sweating it when it all showed up Tuesday morning. You should see the walk-in.”

“I’m glad you’re getting all this business, but I feel bad for my thing making you guys have to work so hard.”

“Pickup,” he yelled, sliding the fish he’d been cooking onto a plate, pouring sauce over it, and then placing it on the wire rack he used for ready orders. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been getting calls from booking agents, too, wanting their bands to play here.”

“You talked to Warren, then?” I said, leaning back to dodge out of the way as Tommy came past with a steaming pot of something.

“Yeah. I didn’t really expect it to come through this fast. I only talked to him this weekend. I just wanted to give you a heads up for this weekend, since I’m giving them Willie’s old spot after you.”

“What about Dwight?” I asked.

“He said they are good to play when I need them, but he and the rest of the guys were actually kind of looking for an out. They were about ready to hang it up when Willie stopped but didn’t want to leave me hanging.”

“See, communication works,” I pointed out.

“Whatever,” he said, smiling at my gentle jab. “Anyway, I wanted to give you a heads up because on nights you’re here, Willie’s slot is great, but if you’re not here and we don’t book anything...”

“Chef, please don’t hold nights open for me. That’s crazy. If you don’t have anyone go up until eleven, you’re going to get like five people in here. I really do want to keep playing here every weekend I can, both because I love it and for Lyla and Seth, but I’ll make sure we give you a heads-up about our schedule. I’ll try, at a bare minimum, to let you know a month ahead of time, if not more. Like, we know I’m out of town for filming over Christmas, so fill those slots. Okay?”

“Okay. Good,” he said, seeming very relieved.

“Were you worried about talking to me about that?”

“Honestly, a little. We wouldn’t have anyone if you hadn’t gotten Warren to help us out, and I know he’s been kind of using your name, saying this is the venue you got a start at. That might not mean a lot for big bands or venues, but local people? You’ve played enough clubs and now you’re on The Stage; people are mentioning it when they talk to me.”

“Chef, I don’t know how many times I need to say this. I owe you for everything. I want this to work for you, and I want you to have all the success you can. Even with this, I still owe you.”

“Okay. I mean, if it was just for me, I’d be fine, but the drink sales and stuff really go up on music nights, and I think Vinney and the rest would miss the extra cash.”

I hadn’t realized he was giving a cut of what he made on those nights to the staff, but it fit with everything I knew about him. It really did back up his saying he didn’t really care, though. I was pretty sure he and Warren had worked out a more standard session pay for the musicians, but the band was taking half the night’s take. If he was then splitting the rest with the staff, that didn’t really leave much for him to take home.

“Good. I feel bad enough about abandoning you guys and letting all of the stuff we’ve set up over the last couple of years fall apart. People around here are starved for entertainment on the weekends, and I know the kids at school love it, since it’s as close to going to a club as many of them are going to get. Besides, Vinney and the rest have done almost as much for me as you have. I owe them, too.”

“Well, they all thank you,” Chef said.

“My feet don’t thank you,” Tommy said, rushing past.

He was grinning, so I knew he was just messing with me. I hadn’t worked in Chef’s kitchens long, but I had quickly learned that bitching was the kitchen staff’s number one pastime, regardless if they meant what they complained about or not.

“Shut it,” Chef said to the line cook, smiling back at him.

I hadn’t been back here during a rush in over a year, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed it. Not so much that I wanted to come back to it, since I did remember how back-breaking it could be, but there was a kind of camaraderie here that I really had enjoyed.

“Okay, your show’s coming on in a second and I have a ton of orders to finish. We’re not doing a big hoopla this time until the end, when I’m sure they’re all going to have questions about it. So go find a place in the back and take a break for a little bit until it’s over.”

He shooed me out of the kitchen and went right back to yelling at everyone as I made my way to the bar, so I could sit out of the way and watch all of the people watch the show, since the last thing I wanted to do was actually watch myself up there. I slid into an empty barstool just as someone slid onto the stool next to me. I turned to see Sydney grinning at me.