Chapter Text
A woman ducked under a faded red and white striped awning as the rain poured hard over head. She pulled her denim jacket tighter to her chest before reaching up and tying her dark curly hair back, missing a few strands already plastered to her face from the rain. She had followed a sudden urge to grab lunch after leaving her sister’s house and had taken a train to get to the River North neighborhood in Chicago. The sudden downpour made her wonder if she had made the wrong decision. She had already been in Chicago a few weeks and had yet to make her way to The Beef, a restaurant owned by the family of a friend she had made a few years prior when she was working in New York City.
Carmy had been the one true friend she had made in those days. The rest of the cohort of chefs she worked with were ladder climbing, ass-kissing, idiots who had actively made her life harder. She had been used to the fight and the struggle from her time in culinary school. Being a woman in the kitchen had been difficult. The men would make crass jokes and undermine her at every step. But Carmy was different, had seen her somehow. The two bonded quickly. She was putting in just as much effort and he respected her.
The late nights and early mornings working together led to a close friendship. The first few weeks were spent silently working next to each other. She had just appreciated a quiet, consistent presence. Eventually they began sharing their workload and helping each other survive the grueling life in the restaurant. That turned into smoke breaks, where she’d bum one of his cigarettes on especially hard days, or just sit next to him. Eventually they shared more and more, their lives unfolding in little snippets, shared memories that one or the other would tell in the dark alley behind their work.
She often wondered how such a strong friendship could grow from two people taking turns dumping their trauma on each other night after night. But a kind of understanding had formed. She had understood his childhood, the quiet loneliness he felt being the awkward one in a loud, overwhelming family. Her story was similar. And when she shared something from her past, he’d share as well. And they came to understand each other. He was the only one in the restaurant who she ever told about her father being a chef. How after he died she trained to follow in his footsteps.
She had to dodge out of the way as someone stepped out of the building she was hiding near. She was only a few blocks from The Beef. Carmy didn’t work there, but she knew his brother owned the restaurant. And some part of her was curious. Wanted to see this restaurant that her friend had spoken at once with such reverence and disdain. She knew he loved it and wanted desperately to help run it. She never got the full story but knew it was a source of pain and pride for him in equal measure.
The rain slowed to a drizzle after another minute and she took the opportunity to run for it. She hopped across puddles and ran through the rain, head ducked, purse clung tightly to her chest in hopes her phone and wallet inside wouldn’t get too soaked. She made it to the restaurant and pulled the door open, rushing inside quickly. She sighed, relieved, looking down at the floor. She hadn’t gotten too wet; thankfully she wasn’t dripping on their floor. She looked up and was greeted by a man with short cropped hair and a beard. He grinned at her and asked if she got stuck in the rain.
She chuckled in response. “What gave it away?” she asked, smiling at him. She pushed at the stray strands of hair, trying and failing to get the curls away from her face as she walked towards the counter. She asked for his recommendation and ended up getting a beef sandwich, hot, with a pop. She had asked for a soda but he had teased her about her regional word choice.
“It’s called pop,” he said, pointing to the sign emphatically. His grin made it clear his teasing was in good humor. She laughed. “Not from around here?”
She grimaced, knowing his response before she even said where she was from. “You caught me. From Wisconsin. Just moved from California though.”
“Wisconsin girl?” He shook his head, mock angry. “Who said you could come into this restaurant?”
She laughed. “Oh my kind isn’t welcome here?” She liked him instantly. Brash and loud, but clearly friendly and obviously joking. It was a breath of fresh air. “I was told by a friend that the next time I was in Chicago I had to try your sandwiches.”
“We need to tell our customers not to go talking about this place to just anyone,” he grumbled with a smirk. She laughed.
“Restroom this way?” she asked, looking to the side. He pointed down the hall and she thanked him.
She looked herself over in the slightly dirty restroom mirror. She was briefly tempted to stick her head under the air powered dryer but decided against it. It was very much something she would have done in New York, those days of not caring how she looked, running on nothing but red bulls and Carmy’s cigarettes. And occasionally Carmy’s granola bars, when he would force her to eat on smoke breaks.
On the off chance Carmy heard all of the restaurant gossip, she didn’t want to end up being the weird lady who dried her hair in their restroom. Instead she simply washed her hands and grabbed a few paper towels and dried off her hands, then her face and neck. She slid her jacket off her shoulders and found at least her sundress had remained mostly dry. She ought to have paid more attention to the weather this morning when she dressed, she thought regretfully.
She undid and re-did her hair, more successfully pulling most of her curls into a messy bun on the back of her neck. She stepped back out into the restaurant to see a larger man with a backwards cap and a grin peeking through the window. She smiled at him and headed to a table by the window.
“Sophie.” The man who took her order called out, before thinking better of it. “No wait, let me serve you. I know how youse guys in Wisconsin like your service.” His voice adapted an over the top Wisconsin accent. She laughed as he placed the tray in front of her with a dramatic bow.
“Ope. Thank you!” she said with a grin, her own exaggerated northern Wisconsin accent sounding terribly silly to her ears. He shook his head with a grin and walked back to the counter.
“Soph?” a familiar voice called out before she could bite into her sandwich. She snapped around to stare in shock. It was Carmy. Dressed in a dark blue t-shirt and white apron, curls falling forward over his face, her heart skipped a beat. He looked almost exactly as he had the last time she’d seen him a few years prior. He took a step toward her and she stood and walked over, wrapping him in a hug.
“Carm,” she said, cheek pressed into his shoulder. He had gripped her tightly around the back, hugging her to him. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her head tilted up to look at him as she stepped back.
He gave her a look. “Me? This is my restaurant,” he said, like it was obvious. “You didn’t know?”
“Yours?” she asked, wide eyed. She very nearly asked more but hesitated. She knew something big must have happened. He had wanted to work in the restaurant for ages. She quickly changed the subject when she saw the hurt in his eyes. There was a story there but she would not pry. “Well I remembered you talking about this place and I’m in Chicago now so I had to stop by,” she said with a shrug.
“You know each other?” The man who had taken her order asked, leaning on the counter and looking their way.
“We worked together in New York,” Sophie said after a beat when Carmy didn’t offer anything more, just continued looking her over.
“I have to get back there.” Carmy gestured to the kitchen. “Eat. I’ll be back out in a minute.”
Sophie nodded and gave a small wave, feeling a bit silly as she did it. The man she had joked with earlier was still eyeing her over. He seemed to give in to his curiosity as he walked back and sat down at the chair across from her, making her smile.
“I’m Richie,” he introduced himself. “And you’re Sophie,” saying her name in a way that made it clear he knew something about her.
“That’s me,” she agreed. Waiting for more. He didn’t say anything. She looked at Richie then down at her food. He gestured for her to eat and she did.
She took a bite of the sandwich and held back a groan. It was amazing. Of course it was, it was Carmy’s work. She missed his cooking almost as much as his companionship. They had taken to cooking for each other the last few months he was in NYC. She had never eaten anything as good as the dinner he had made for them the night before he left for Copenhagen. The memory flooded her mind as she took another bite of the sandwich before setting it down. She hummed happily and closed her eyes.
Sometimes she missed cooking. There was something magic in a good bite of food. But the stress of the kitchen had gotten to her. And besides, she had chased another dream. She wouldn’t let herself dwell on the what if’s for too long.
“That is a fucking amazing sandwich,” she said, looking to Richie. His mouth twitched in a smile but he was clearly still thinking. “Did you have a question?” she asked, looking him over after taking a drink from her pop.
“You and Carmy?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.
She took a moment before understanding his meaning and got annoyed at herself when she felt her cheeks warm. “Friends,” she said, definitively. “We worked together for a few months before he went to Noma,” she added.
He hummed, considering the statement but the smirk was still on his face. The door opened with a chime and Richie stood. “Welcome to Chicago, Sophie,” he said to her before turning to welcome the new customers.
She had finished her sandwich by the time Carmy returned. He walked over and clapped both hands over the chair next to hers, leaning against it to look down at her. “What’s the word?” he asked.
“Compliments to the chef. Best sandwich I’ve had in a long time. Only topped by a peanut butter and jelly I had in the summer of 2020,” she said. She would be embarrassed to admit how frequently she thought about that peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was the height of Covid and she had gotten sick and had to take off work. She was locked up in her crappy apartment with her very unhelpful roommates. Carmy had checked in on her every day over text and at one point she complained about having nothing to eat and how desperately she craved a pb&j. He had dropped off what, at the time, tasted like the most amazing sandwich she had ever had. Raspberry jam, simple salted peanut butter, amazing fluffy bread. She smiled every time she thought of it.
He huffed a laugh and pulled the chair out to sit beside her. “What are you doing here?” he asked as he sat. “You cooking in Chicago now?”
“Not full time. I did a guest spot a few weeks ago at Ever. But I’m just here for my sister,” she said, not wanting to get into too many details. She glanced over to the counter. The big guy with the beard and the cap seemed to be giggling and looking over at her. She turned back to Carmy and nervously tapped her fingers on the table.
He was still looking at her, his eyes seemed to see right through her. He could always read her too well. He glanced over towards the counter and shook his head with a sigh. “That’s Fak. He works here. Sort of.”
She nodded, not understanding at all. She felt terribly awkward. And she hated that. But she didn’t know what to say. Too much had happened and it didn’t feel like the time or place to say any of it.
“Ever. I worked there for a while. Chef Terry is fantastic,” Carmy said.
“She really is. It’s the only reason I agreed. I had just gone to eat and she offered me a spot when she was going to be cooking elsewhere. Got to make a small menu and everything. It was good,” she said, blurting out more than she planned. It always happened with Carmy. “I saw your picture there.” She smiled.
Carmy’s mouth twitched, the nearest he would get to a smile, and then looked away. “You look good,” he said, then clearly felt awkward as he leaned back in his seat. “I just mean– you know how things were when I left.”
“Yeah, I’m doing better." She had gotten better. She was having trouble eating back in those days. She wasn’t sleeping much either. The stress of working at Eleven Madison Park had gotten to her. She was fairly certain that is why Carmy would bring in snacks for her. And why he had started their ‘dinners’-- really midnight meals. What had started with Carmy dragging her along when he would get takeout after work, turned into him cooking for her. Eventually they got into a rhythm where they would take turns cooking for each other. She was fairly certain she would have burned out far sooner without his routine.
She wanted to ask him more. Tell him about what was going on in her life. It had always seemed so simple. But now there was no reason. They didn’t work together. He had ignored her messages after he left, though she did not really blame him for that. It was a friendship of convenience. Forced cohabitation. She may have wanted it to be more but she had grown since then.
Still, she felt she owed him. She had thanked him, over text. But she wanted to say something. He had kept her going all those months.
“New York was shit without you, by the way.” It was the truth and a joke and the best she could come up with.
He let out an amused huff, his eyes jumping back to her own. She knew she was blushing but hoped enough foundation remained on her face for it to not be terribly noticeable. His eyes were too expressive. She was pretty sure she had fallen for him, a little, the first time he looked at her like he was right then.
He tapped his fingers on the table. “This is short notice. But I have a chef working on adding desserts to the menu. So far he has been figuring out a recipe for a chocolate cake. If you have time, I’d appreciate another set of eyes.”
“I’d love to,” she responded with a cautious smile.
The front door opened and four more customers walked in. Richie called out to them right away, clearly they were regulars.
“Back to work?” she asked him, when she caught him looking at the newcomers.
“Back to the kitchen. See you later chef?”
“Yes chef.”