A Taste Of Pleasure

Dani marched down the short hallway to the fridge, her mind racing with how to explain who she was and what happened to Marcello. She hoped the sous-chef could handle taking over the kitchen for a night. Or several nights if needed.

The cool air of the cellar was like a balm on her skin and she surveyed the frigid cuts of meat as she found her way around the shelving to the back.

“Ciao? Hello?” she called out. “Gianni? Oh, scusa,” she apologized; startled when she found him bent over a rack. At first she thought he was gathering food, and then she saw the thin white line spread on the shelf and noticed the same powder dusted on his black coat.

He pinched his nose and looked at her quizzically. “Scusami. Are you lost?”

Dani blinked, trying to keep a lid on her emotions. If this were her kitchen, he’d be fired. And she doubted Marcello knew about this man’s habits or he wouldn’t be wearing that coke-dusted jacket.

But she didn’t have time for morals and ethics. What she needed was a chef. Quickly she explained who she was and what happened, with Gianni seeming genuinely concerned. Yet he balked when she asked him to run the kitchen, but then reluctantly agreed.

Gianni sweat bullets as he looked at the backup of orders. An erratic waitress burst into the kitchen needing her meals, her table was becoming belligerent. Then the hostess followed, with more problems.

“The key to the wine cellar is missing. I think Wendall had it.” Dani knew that was where they kept the most expensive wines. What a disaster.