Page 19 of Brutal King
“The food business is not for the faint at heart. This is not a sit pretty and smile kind of business. Running a restaurant is hard, demanding work.” She straightened up and leaned back slightly to look under my desk. “How many difficult hours can you spend running around on those expensive heels, dear?”
I had half a mind to let her know that I was quite comfortable in heels, that I’d often spent a few hours helping out at one of my family’s restaurants in heels. But I knew it was futile.
“I’ll wear something more appropriate tomorrow,” I muttered.
“Well, I should hope so. I’m not in the habit of barking out recommendations twice.” She looked all around the class. “Got that, everyone!? We are a hands-on class. That means you will be cooking. You will be working at your kitchen stations. So dress appropriately for safety, sanitary, and professional reasons.”
As everyone muttered their understanding, she walked back to the front of the class.
“Some of you might think that running a restaurant is as easy as pie. Some of you might be attracted to the glamour of an expensive and exclusive restaurant. Some of you might imagine yourselves hobnobbing with the elite who might grace your fine tables.”
She snickered and looked at the girls in the class... more specifically, the pretty and delicate looking girls, including myself.
“I’ve seen men cry at the end of an eighteen-hour day... exhausted,” she went on. “I’m sure you can all imagine the degree with which some women have had to be scooped up with a tiny spoon following such a demanding day. Cry, you say? They balled! They crumbled. They fell into a fetal position and hugged themselves... only to have to get up the next day and do it all over again.”
We stared at her, a little stunned by her vision of what life as a restauranteur was.
“Running a restaurant is far from glamorous. It’s tough. This is not the place to be if you are traumatized by a broken nail. This is not the place to be if you can’t stand the thought of getting your hands dirty. No... pretty girls! In my world pretty hair, pretty nails and pretty make up are out! In my world hairnets replace gem-encrusted barrettes. In my world clipped nails and a clean face are the order of the day.”
A few of the girls glanced at their perfect manicures and sighed.
“Your pretty smiles and pretty fashion sense might get you the attention you desire... but if you think it is going to help you here... you are wrong. Dead wrong. In fact, you may as well pack up your Pradas and Armanis and go home.”
Again she glared at me with those menacing eyes.
“Well, now that we’ve covered that, let’s move on.” She went behind her desk and turned to face us. “I would like to introduce to you my teacher’s assistant for this year... Mr. Kobe King.”
He’d been sitting discreetly behind a partition and as he rose and made himself present, his haughty and arrogant glare landed directly on me.
He looked good, something I was sure every girl in the class noticed. Wearing a tan suit with white shirt, he looked every bit the serious student... and teacher’s assistant.
He’d been listening. Of course he had. He’d been silently applauding every criticism Ms. Manley had thrown my way.
“Hello, everyone,” he said with feigned cheer.
“Hello,” the class shot back.
“As Ms. Manley so eloquently said, this is not a class for those hoping to just coast by.”
“No, it is not,” she said.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he stood in front of Ms. Manley’s desk, feet apart, and looked down on us lowly students. “I happen to know that one of you comes from a very prestigious family... a family known for its highly successful restaurants.”
Although he didn’t move, his direct and unwavering gaze fell on me, as well as that of every other student.
He wouldn’t, I thought. He wouldn’t tell everyone who I was.
“Miss Katrina Lee, of the Lee Family Restaurant empire.”
He did. Damn, Kobe, why?
Students around me grunted.
“Must be nice to attend this prestigious school with that family name behind you,” Kobe said with a pleased grin.
He wanted to see me squirm, but I refused to give him that satisfaction.
I worked hard to be here, Kobe, and you know it.