Sizzling in Singapore (A Carnal Cuisine Novel)

by Falls, K. C.

  The walk-ins were lined up on one side of the kitchen and locked when the last regular left the kitchen at the end of the dinner shift. It was corporate policy to remove the temptation to pilfer expensive ingredients. Of course, everyone knew it still happened that cooks and chefs left with a pocket full of pine nuts or a nice steak tucked into a folded jacket, but food costs being what they were, at least no one could return to the larder late at night and empty it.

  The kitchen was unnatural in its quiet. There was a faint chorus of hums from the various refrigeration units but without the raucous crew, the banging cookware and the ever-audible and never idle dishwashers, the place seemed eerie and very much like the dream he was trying to forget.

  Nick fumbled with his still unfamiliar keys and found the one to the produce locker. He opened the heavy door and flipped on the light. Finding two nice baskets of crimini mushrooms that he knew would be used in several ways that day, he decided that slicing them would be just the therapy he needed. Mushrooms are small, slippery and should be sliced paper-thin. It was one of the more challenging items a cook finds in the produce basket and it takes skill to do the task quickly and efficiently.

  Arms full of mushrooms, Nick heeled the heavy door shut and took them back to the prep table. He thought he heard a tha-wump behind him and decided it was just the latch on the cooler snapping back into place. The street shoes he wore made an odd sound tapping across the floor as he rounded into the prep room at the kitchen's back. He grabbed an apron from the linen-bag and set to work on the little caps. He worked a bit more slowly than top speed at first.

  I am totally out of practice. I used to do this twice as fast and not even have to look at my hands. Now I need to watch every move these big paws make. I can't wait 'til this gig ends. I have to get out of this 'exec'crap. It's gonna ruin me. Chop, chop, chop. Nick's hands began to pick up their pace. That's the way, Nicky-boy. Just like riding a bicycle. You'll be running your own little show soon. Just you and a couple of dudes on the line. Sweet.

  The knife rocked steadily against the cutting board and the echo against the metal prep table sang through the empty kitchen. Bangbangbangbangbang. Each stroke nearly perfectly matching the last. This was the kind of music Nick adored. Bangbangbangbangbang. Tha-wump. Bangbangbangbangbang. Tha-WUMP.

  This time Nick was sure he heard something. It wasn't his knife and it wasn't anyone slamming a door, because he was still very much alone. He put the knife down, wiped his hands on his apron and strained to hear the noise again. Tha-wump. It was faint and sounded like someone was banging from inside one of the walk-ins. Nick hurried over to the other side of the kitchen where the coolers lined up against the wall. Tha-wump. It was coming from the meat locker!

  Nick fumbled with his keys again and it seemed to take forever to find the one that fit the walk-in's lock. He jerked the door open and a small figure slumped out at his feet and onto the kitchen floor.

  ***

  Nick looked at the lump at his feet. It didn't immediately register that this was a person, much less that it was Mae. The unexpected confuses. He couldn't reconcile the bone and meat that flew past him when he finally got the stubborn key to open the lock.

  Finally, he found his sense and saw with horror that it was she. Her lips were blue, her hair swirled around her head in an angry, confused way. He picked her up—light as a feather—and realized she was soaking wet and nearly frozen to death. He recalled some bizarre Nazi experiment that proved that a naked body warms one other naked body better than even two or three could do and set about tearing the sodden jacket and undershirt from her. She wasn't shivering. A bad sign. She didn't seem to recognize him or know where she was. Another bad sign.

  He tore his own shirt from his chest as if he was wearing paper. Gathering her close to him he began to murmur her name as he tried to press as much of his warm skin against her cold flesh. He rubbed her bare back with one hand as he manhandled her soaked chef's pants down her slim legs. He put her frigid hands into his armpits and breathed his night-breath into her hair.

  "My God, my God. Mae can you hear me?" No response. The transition to the heat was not instantly effective. "HELP! HELP! Somebody help me, please!"

  It was late. The kitchen was silent and well-insulated against the heat and to keep the dining areas quiet. No one heard him as he struggled with whether to leave her and get help or stay and warm her. He gathered her into a tight ball onto his lap. He willed his body heat to enter her cold, nearly lifeless frame.

  How long did it take before she began to shake and shiver? He was overwhelmed with gratitude as finally he could begin to feel her body come to life. She shook violently and began to whimper.

  "It's okay now, baby. I've got you." He felt her wriggle into the warm cocoon of his arms, his torso and legs as he tried to cover every inch of her skin with his. She moaned as sensation began to return to her hands and he tightened his biceps to keep her hands in his warm folds.

  Every so often he would call again for help. Still no one came and he was loathe to leave her on the hard floor. He stroked her head and felt the hard lump on the back of her skull. He tucked her bare feet into his groin and felt her toes like icicles against his balls.

  She began to weep and he wondered that a body so cold could produce tears so hot. "It's okay, Mae. You're safe. Safe now."

  Finally she looked up at him. He didn't think she immediately recognized him, but he didn't care. Just be okay. Be okay. Please, please be okay. He began to rock her in his arms and to his utter chagrin felt his own tears coursing down his cheeks. You're beautiful. You're strong. I know you don't give a rat's ass about me, but I do about you. More than a rat's ass. More than I should. More than I can.

  He heard footsteps behind him and didn't bother to turn around to see who it was. "Call an ambulance, now. Tell 'em hypothermia, possible concussion." The disembodied footsteps hurried away.

  Nick continued to warm Mae with his body wrapping her in his flesh and covering her soaking, cold hair with his discarded t-shirt. Her lips were still a frightening shade of purple and she had yet to say a word. Most worrisome to Nick was the lack of focus in her eyes. They seemed to be staring at a point somewhere beyond him in the darkness of the kitchen.

  "Mae, look at me. Focus on me. Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are?" Nick was desperate to evoke some sort of conscious response from her.

  Mae's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she struggled to form words. She was shivering so much that when she opened her mouth to answer her teeth just clacked together. Her eyes closed and her jaw clenched as she tried to calm her muscles. "I don't…don't know where I am."

  Nick was surprised that the words coming out of her mouth sounded exactly as if she was terrifically drunk. Slurred and even with a little belligerent. "And you're…you're…the… She looked up at him and he could see her wrestle with consciousness. "You're the…the…new asshole."

  Nick would have dropped her if they had been standing up. Bloody fucking hell. She's half unconscious, frozen nearly to death and she can manage to remember that she thinks I'm an asshole.

  Mae slumped against Nick's chest as if the effort of identifying 'the new asshole' took the last bit of whatever she had left. Her heavy-lidded eyes fought to stay open. The violent shaking was subsiding somewhat and he saw that she was giving in to the exhaustion. Feeling the swollen knot at the back of her head again, Nick was sure that she must have done some damage with a fall. He remembered reading somewhere that people with concussions were supposed to be kept awake.

  "C'mon, girl. No sleeping. Tell me your name. Tell the asshole your name."

  She opened her eyes and dreamily focused on his face. "Mae. Mae Belle Whitten."

  "That's a good girl. We're making progress. Do you recognize where you are now?"

  "My kit…my kitchen."

  "That's right, Mae. You're in your kitchen. Where's your kitchen, Mae?"

  "The Palace. Maurya Palace. Delhi."

  Sh
it. She's too confused. Where the hell are the paramedics? Isn't Singapore supposed to be one of the most efficient places on earth? It's taking for-fucking-ever.

  Finally, the EMT crew burst through the kitchen doors, stretcher at the ready. They pried Mae from Nick's arms and hoisted her up onto the stretcher wrapping her in thermal covers at the same time. Nick wondered how a tropical rescue crew had warming blankets at the ready. Then he wondered at his bizarre thought pattern.

  "What happened?" The other EMT's were wheeling Mae out to the waiting ambulance while one stayed behind to question Nick.

  "She got locked in the walk-in cooler. I heard her banging on the door and when I opened it, she kind of fell out at my feet. There's a huge lump on the back of her head and she seems really disoriented."

  "How long was she in there?" The EMT scribbled fast on his pad.

  "I don't know"

  "How long has she been out of there?"

  "It seems like forever…honestly, I don't know. Maybe fifteen minutes.. Maybe less." Nick admitted that he had lost all sense of time.

  "That's okay, sir. You did what you should have done. Body heat is nearly the best thing there is for hypothermia."

  "Is she going to be okay?" Nick was surprised at how much that meant to him. Rocking her frozen and nearly naked body next to him had made him realize that, quite without wanting to, and very quickly, he had become attached.

  "I'm not a doctor, sir. We'll give her the best possible care. We should have her at Singapore General in less than ten minutes. There's no traffic at this hour so she'll be in a doctor's care very soon." With that, the EMT turned and trotted after his colleagues. Moments later Nick heard the siren wail and fade into the blackness of the sticky night.

  ***

  Mae woke up in strange surroundings. She gave a confused look around her and lapsed back into sleep. For thirty-six hours she came into and out of reality, sometimes on her own, sometimes with the gentle prompting of the nurses who were caring for her.

  Finally, she opened her eyes to the afternoon sun streaming orange onto her bed and saw Maribel sitting in the chair next to the bed.

  "Maribel?" Mae was confused by the whole situation. She was clearly in a hospital room and her friend, the office manager from the Elysium was sitting next to her. That's about all Mae could say with any certainty. That and that her head hurt like hell and her hands felt like they were on fire. She groggily looked down at them and saw they were bandaged.

  "Mae! You're awake!"

  "Did I get burned? What happened to my hands?"

  Maribel laughed. "Just the opposite, you got frostbite. But it isn't severe."

  Mae looked at her without showing any signs of understanding.

  "Sweetheart, you were trapped in the cooler. If Nick hadn't come along and found you, you might have been killed."

  "Nick?"

  "Yes, Nick. Chef Nick. The guy whose name you've been mumbling all day long. He found you and apparently warmed you up with his body heat. Maybe that's why you've been calling for him in your sleep. You were both mostly naked when help arrived."

  Mae tried very hard to remember. But she kept looking at her hands and the pain was horrible. My hands. My tools. Oh God. "My hands."

  "Mae, Tank was here most of the morning. He had a long talk with the doctor and the doctor said that your hands are going to be fine. You know Tank would know exactly what those hands mean to you."

  "Tank." Mae seemed capable of very few words. She had to reach far into a fog to retrieve them.

  "He's been here as much as he could. I volunteered for the afternoon shift because all the boys had to be back at the shop. Big shindig tonight and the show must go on. There's been someone from the Elysium with you ever since you were admitted. The doctors said it was important that you have a familiar face nearby when you came around."

  "Head hurts."

  "Yes, you also suffered a real whopper of a concussion. Nick's body heat treatment prevented the hypothermia from doing too much damage, but you hit your head pretty hard."

  "Nick"

  "Yes, you've said that. Just try to rest, Mae. It will come back to you soon enough. Right now sleep is what your body needs."

  Mae winced as she tried to sit up.

  "Don't try moving right now. I'm going to go alert the nurses that you're awake."

  Mae lay in bed trying hard to remember more. But the pain in her hands and her head were stronger than her memory. By the time Maribel returned with the nurse, Mae had drifted off again.

  ***

  "You're a very lucky young woman, Miss Whitten. Your slender build is most vulnerable to hypothermia. You were fortunate that Mr. Seville found was around when he was and knew what to do." Dr. Liu smiled at Mae with satisfaction. "The concussion also exacerbated the danger, but you seem to have come through that surprisingly well."

  "Chefs are a tough bunch, Doctor."

  "There certainly has been a parade of them in and out of here. You must be held in very high regard."

  Mae winced inwardly. Yes, it was true that nearly every member of the Elysium kitchen staff—from cooks to dishwashers—had paid her a call in the five days she had been at Singapore General. Claude, the hotel general manager, had been in to see her briefly several times as had a number of other staff members. Cess had taken a couple of 'emergency days'to be at her friend's beside. Conspicuous in his absence was the author of her miraculous salvation. Nick Seville had sent an extravagant display of orchids to her with a generic "Get Well Soon" card attached that he had signed "Best, Chef Nick"

  Hospital beds are an excellent place for introspection and Mae had taken the time to examine her conflicted emotions about Nick and the relationship (or lack thereof) that was born so carelessly in the Elysium swimming pool. She wondered how such a casual encounter could produce such lasting effects. She berated herself inwardly for not having the maturity to just let their coupling simply settle in as a pleasant memory.

  Mae spent as many hours reliving those passionate moments as she did reconstructing her near death experience in the cooler. As the days passed and her memory of the events became clearer she could recall being cradled in his arms as he tried to press every square inch of his warm flesh against her cold body. She came to remember, slowly, the urgency of his concern for her, his tenderness and the endearments he whispered in her ear. She could not dismiss his actions as merely the concern of one human being for another's welfare. It was more than that. She could feel it viscerally. Even as she recalled the terror of her ordeal, a thread of emotion ran through the moments following her release from the walk-in that she couldn't ignore.

  So it was a confused and puzzled Mae who was released from the hospital with strict orders of rest and recuperation for two more weeks. "This is not negotiable, Miss Whitten," Dr. Liu had admonished when she protested that she was needed in the kitchen. "Although your hands and your head will recover completely, you can do further damage if you don't allow your body the time to heal. Give it that time."

  The bandages were off of her hands, but she had to admit that they still felt tender and sore. Her fingers were peeling in a couple of spots, but Dr. Liu said that this was completely benign and would soon pass.

  As it was, Mae wasn't really ready to go back to the Elysium. She felt it would be very difficult to just hang around the hotel without taking some part in the life of the kitchen. But more than that, Mae was delaying a face-to-face meeting with Nick. She wanted to thank him for all that he did but at the same time she was irrationally hurt and miffed that he hadn't come to see her in the hospital.

  Cess had a seldom-used apartment shared with another flight attendant who was also rarely in residence. The two women gladly offered Mae their place while she recuperated.

  "We've got a nice pool, a bookshelf full of trashy novels and a rack filled with cheap but drinkable wine. We're within walking distance of a great hawker's center. You can literally step out the door and find some fantastic local grub."Cess had
given her a convenient out.

  It was a perfect solution for Mae. She would have a physical distance that would prevent her from popping into the kitchen (or running into Nick).

  However, after a few days and as many trashy novels, Mae was about to lose her mind. For a person used to fourteen-hour days, nearly ten empty, purposeless ones were torture. Mae missed her work, her room and her crew. She decided to give Tank a call.

  "Tank, love, I need some conversation. I'm going bat-shit crazy doing nothing all day. Can you steal an hour or two this afternoon and come over to Cess's?"

  He was happy to oblige. "Of course I will. Anything for my Maybe Chef. You shouldn't whine about being bored, though. Soon enough you'll be slaving for the 'massuh' again."

  When the afternoon lull was upon the kitchen, Tank took the opportunity to grab a cab and visit. "You're looking fine, Chef." He grinned at her from the doorway he nearly filled and gathered her into a crushing bear hug. "We've missed your bony-ass."

  "I've missed you too, Tank. All of you. How's everything going at the shop?"

  Tank grinned wide enough to see the several missing teeth that bespoke a childhood spent in deprivation. It always tugged at her heart when Mae recalled the stories her gentle giant of a friend had told her about his youth. The lulls in a kitchen's frenzy tend to promote intimacy and Mae and Tank had come to know each other very well.

  "Mae, this new guy is something else. He's jumped in with both feet and dances like he was born in our kitchen. He's been doing your job and Kurt's without missing a beat. I couldn't do as well, I know that."

  Tank caught the fleeting look of dismay on Mae's face before she answered with a desultory "that's nice"

  "I didn't mean we don't need you, love. We do. Besides, Nick's made it crystal clear that as soon as management finds a replacement he's outta here with his ass on fire. Man's got big plans and they don't include the Elysium."

  "Plans?"

  "Shit yea. He's already bought a property outside of Charlotte, North Carolina of all places. He's getting ready to open his own place. Small place. Maybe a dozen tables. Doing his own thing. He was just about ready to get started when he got the call to bail our asses out."