The Cook and His Fork In The Road
NYC Midnight Short Story 2024 entry.
2024
Required Theme: “Hierarchy”
Synopsis: Jeremy is the personal chef to Diana, the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies and it’s a pretty cool gig. But when he receives a text message with an… interesting request from her, he struggles to figure out which head to listen to; the one above his neck or the one below his waist.
Jeremy stood in the kitchen of his modest abode. His face contorted into a look of pondering rivaling that of The Thinker statue; brows furrowed at an angle just above worry and just below anger, lips puckered ever so slightly as if dealing with the sour after-taste of a somewhat unripe lemon, arms crossed and left hand cradling his chin.
He stared intensely at his phone that laid flat on the dark, polished marble countertop. The streaks of white in the marble reflected the kitchen lights back like a diffused spotlight. The phone displayed the most recent text message he received from a woman named Diana Tielmier.
It read, “wanna fuck, jermy?”
“She was probably hacked or something, you’re freaking out over nothing.” Kyle kicked his feet out and reclined as far as he could on the patio chair.
“Why the hell would someone hack into one of the world’s biggest tech companies’ CEO’s phone just to sext me?”
“Okay, fair point. Maybe she’s drunk?”
Jeremy shook his head, “She’s pretty straight edge. I don’t think she allows any alcohol on the premises. She doesn’t even want me to use alcohol in any of my recipes.”
“Sent to the wrong person?”
“She calls me ‘jermy’ all the time.” Kyle raised an eyebrow in amused disbelief, “That’s your fault! She heard you calling me ‘germ’ and ‘jerm-meister’ when we were catering for the Christmas Circuitboard Convention in Phoenix. She thought it was funny and it stuck.”
Kyle responded with a defeated shrug. “Well, jermy, if she wasn’t hacked, drunk, or texted the wrong guy, then I don’t see what the problem is. If a lady is down to fuck, you fuck! It’s the chivalrous thing to do. Cook up some meatballs for yourself and go for it!”
Adrian swatted the back of Kyle’s head with the pair of tongs he was holding, “Don’t be a ass to my bambina!” The Italian Pure-Bred was wearing a tightly tied apron that read “Bacia il Cuoco“ with an arrow pointing to his crotch. He shuffled over to Jeremy and draped his arm over his shoulders, “Have sympathy for the virgin! I remember my first time with a beautiful women. I had heard about it, I had seen it on computers, but when I see the pussy in front of me for first time? Mama mia! I discover what stage fright is that day!”
When it came to anything about cooking and the culinary arts, Adrian was the best mentor Jeremy could have ever hoped for. When it came to anything else, not so much. Jeremy shrugged his mentor’s arm off in annoyance and turned to him with a look of incredulity. “I’m not a virgin.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Why did you say that like you’re surprised?”
“No, no!” Adrian insisted, putting his hands up defensively, “No surprise! Women flock to you like bear to honey, I am sure!”
“Yeah!” Kyle snorted as he struggled to reach for the bowl of pretzels without getting out of his reclined position, “Who wouldn’t want to fuck the guy that cooks for the Royal YumYum Family to the delight of children everywhere!” He finally snatched the bowl, “Mr. Cook-A-Doodle-Do’s drowning in pussy for sure!”
Jeremy was beginning to regret asking these two for advice on his situation.
“Regardless,” Adrian squirted a generous helping of lighter fluid onto the grill, creating a bellowing flame that smelled of the primest and choicest cuts of beef, “What is the problem? This woman is… what is it you say, Kyle?”
“Down to fuck.”
“Down to fuck! Do you not want to?” Adrian spanked the brisket with a generous helping of seasoning.
“I mean…” Jeremy mulled over his response, continually swapping out ‘yes’ for ‘no’ and ‘no’ for ‘yes’. Was she attractive? Yes. Was she friendly? No. To him? Yes. Did she seem to like him? Yes…? Maybe? Stuck between two diametrically opposed options, he bravely chose to weasel in between both, “Sure, I guess. Maybe? I wouldn’t be opposed to not not wanting to if she wanted me to…want to do it, but the issue is…”
“…I’m his boss, you asshole!” Diana screamed as she scurried around the sofa.
“I know! That’s what makes it fun!” Shelly retorted with the widest shit-eating grin she could make as she scurried the opposite way around the sofa, dangling Diana’s phone tauntingly close. The extra foot and a half she had over her sister always made Keep-Away a fun time. “It’s time to get your money’s worth out of him! Make him earn that paycheck!”
“He’s my personal chef, not a gigolo!”
Rebecca cackled in the background, “I can’t believe you actually sent that to him!” Shelly could barely hold on to her bowl of low-calorie popcorn in between desperate gulps of air. This girls’ night out was turning out to be a rollicking good time.
“Give me back my fucking phone!”
Shelly gasped in mock offense. “Gasp! Such language from my baby sister!”
Diana finally managed to snatch her phone back. She tapped and swiped her phone every which way in hopes of finding a way to undo what her big sister just did.
The read receipt for the text was marked as “Read”.
“What is wrong with you!” Diana shrieked, barely resisting the urge to torpedo her phone at Shelly’s head, “I do not mix my personal and professional lives!”
“What can I say, I was inspired by love!” Shelly gestured at the large, theater-quality projector screen that covered the wall in Diana’s personal cinema room. The credits from The Notebook had just started. “You’ve been ogling him for almost a year, I’m just getting the ball rolling! I did you a favor!”
“Yeah!” Rebecca chimed in between giggles, laying on her stomach and swinging her feet like a schoolgirl, “If anything, you owe her twice! You’d never have met the guy if she didn’t book the Royal YumYums to cater for Gracie’s 5th birthday at the last minute!“
“Oh God, those garbanzo gumdrops were divine, I couldn’t get enough of them.” Shelly flopped herself on the couch and haphazardly poured herself a fourth glass of non-alcoholic wine.
“You obviously dig him,” Rebecca said, somewhat recovered from her laughing fit, “and he obviously digs you, so why not?”
“There’s a million reasons why not!”
“And they are?”
“My dignity, my reputation, and that I obviously don’t want to!”
Rebecca took a sip from her coke, throwing a dismissive hand wave, “The only people that care about dignity are the ones that don’t have any.”
“And if your stint in rehab didn’t leak to the tabloids,” Shelly interjected, “then screwing your personal chef ain’t gonna either!”
Diana stiffened at the mention of rehab. Her jaw clenched as thoughts and memories over the last year started to crack into her mind.
“Irregardless,” Rebecca gave Shelly a covert look that said ‘What the hell!’, to which Shelly responded with a shrug that said ‘I’m not wrong!’ before continuing, “Point three is moot because, yeah, you do.”
Diana gave a frustrated stomp, “I told you, I’m not mixing my personal and professional lives! I don’t shit where I eat!”
“I sure hope you don’t shit in the kitchen,” Kyle laughed as he sprinkled Cholula over his assortment of BBQ meats.
“No no no!” Adrian yanked the bottle away, “What are you doing? You are ruining the flavor! This dish alone awarded me my third Michelin star!”
“Mr. Michelin can eat it however he wants.” Kyle yanked the bottle back, “I like a little extra spice, sue me.” He splashed an extra dollop just to spite him.
“What about my image?” Jeremy toyed with his brisket, idly poking at it with his fork. “What if word gets out, then my face is plastered all over the tabloids!”
“The headlines would be pretty crazy,” Kyle chuckled, “Tech CEO seduced by beloved children mascot Mr. Cook-A-Doodle-Do! It’d be like if Barney fucked Cher.”
“Exactly! I’m family friendly! And besides that, what if I say yes? Something happens, it gets awkward and weird, and she fires me! I can’t lose this gig, ‘The Royal YumYums’ doesn’t pay as much as you might think.”
“Then tell her no.”
“I can’t have him work for me thinking I’m a weird floozy!”
Shelly threw up her hands in exasperation, “Oh poor you! Fuck a cutie and fire him, or don’t fuck a cutie and fire him. What a Catch-22 you’re in! It’ll only be weird if you make it weird.”
Kyle threw his hands up in exasperation, “Oh, poor you! Fuck a hottie and get fired or don’t fuck a hottie and get fired. What a Catch-22 you’re in! It’ll only be weird if you make it weird.”
Adrian clapped his hands triumphantly, “Ah! I see now the problem, bambina,” Adrian pinched Jeremy’s cheek, “I know you lack the self-esteem, but she is not too good for a lowly childrens entertainer such as you!”
“Yeah!” Kyle joined in, “You’re a great guy and an even greater chef! Better than Adrian, even.”
“This is not true,” Adrian corrected, “But you are a great man, this is true! As Kyle say, cook yourself some meatballs and answer her! Then I call you bambino.”
Jeremy gave a frustrated groan, “You guys don’t get it, shit like this doesn’t happen to guys like me! Cher’s never gonna fuck Barney. No one wants to fuck the loser inside the ‘Mr. Cook-A-Doodle-Doo’ mascot suit. It’s too good to be true!”
It was quiet between all of them for a minute.
“Babino,” Adrian gave a comforting pat and rub on his shoulder, “You are trying very hard to not make a choice. As my nonna would say, ‘Do not worry which umbrella to take for too long, or you will be wet by the time the rain comes.’”
“Yeah, what he said. I think?” Kyle wiped his mouth clean and set aside his plate, putting on his ‘the bro-talk has become serious’ face. ”We’ve known each other for, what, 20 years? I love ya like a brother, but I can’t choose for you. It’s your life, it’s now or never, you ain’t gonna live forever.”
Jeremy exhaled a soft laugh at his Bon Jovi reference. After another quiet moment, he picked himself up. “I’ll be back. Just need some time alone to think.”
A tense silence filled the room once Shelly left to get a new bottle of non-alcoholic wine. Diana stood still, arms crossed, still fuming and red in the face from embarrassment.
“You okay?”
Silence filled the room again.
Rebecca bit the inside of her cheek and silently kicked herself for the whole debacle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how upset you were.” She got up from the couch and slowly moved towards her friend. “I shouldn’t’ve ganged up on you like that. I got caught up in the teasing.” Placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, she continued, “Shelly probably went too far with that text. If we pull her ear hard enough we could make her apologize and explain herself to him.”
Diana coldly stared at her best friend trying to maintain her rage, but looked away before the water in her eyes could leak. “It’s okay,” she said quietly, “It’s just how she is. She’s impulsive like that.”
Rebecca embraced her in a hug, “No it’s not, Di. She knows you’ve had a rough couple of months.“ After a few moments, Diana returned the hug.
“Look, all I’ll say about all this is that, from my perspective, you’ve been isolating yourself for a while and I think it would be good to at least mingle with people again. You seem to like this guy and he seems like a good guy.” They ended they’re hug, Rebecca softly holding and caressing Diana’s hands, “You don’t even have to fuck him! I just think it’d be nice if you had some people to hang out with outside of us two, Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Shelly’s obviously Tweedledum.”
Diana couldn’t help but laugh. Soon they were both having a good laugh together. “I appreciate your candor.”
Her phone gave a soft vibration and whistled. The two looked at each other for a moment before Rebecca put her hands up and backed away. “I’m not peeking. Do what you gotta do. I’m gonna grab another popcorn bag.”
When Rebecca was out of sight, Diana fished out her phone from her pocket. A new text message. It was from Jeremy Koch.
“Buy me dinner first?”
She stood there, tossing and turning all types of responses in her head..
After a few moments, she chose the courageous option and texted back.
“Sure.”