After Professor Wilson left, Alvin Satō checked the time.
It was already ten o’clock.
He still had to get back to the restaurant.
The school didn’t pay him a salary, after all.
If he wanted to keep the lights on, Peace Restaurant had to make money.
After saying goodbye to Olivia, Alvin made one last circuit around the campus.
A few troublemakers quickly straightened up the moment they spotted him.
Seeing the usual rowdy students walking on eggshells brought a satisfied nod from the principal.
Only then did he climb into his pickup and head back to Hell’s Kitchen.
By the time he pulled up outside Peace Restaurant, it was nearly eleven.
Dom cleverly nudged the truck door open with his nose, hopped down onto the sidewalk, then pushed it shut with a front paw.
He stretched, let out a contented yawn, and shook his glossy black coat until it shimmered in the sunlight like rippling water.
Thor was lying by the restaurant entrance.
The two wolves greeted each other by bumping heads before Dom crossed to the opposite side of the doorway and settled down.
A pile of construction debris sat stacked outside the building.
Uncle Charlie’s renovation work seemed to be moving along nicely.
Alvin stepped inside.
Jessica stood behind the bar, absentmindedly polishing glasses.
The progress on rebuilding the upstairs had noticeably lifted her spirits.
When she saw Alvin, she greeted him with a broad smile.
It was still before the lunch rush.
Only two tables were occupied.
A young Latina woman and an older Black woman immediately stood when Alvin entered.
Before he could react, the older woman wrapped him in a fierce hug.
“Oh…” Tears filled her eyes.
“Thank you…
thank you, Alvin.” “You’re our savior.” “You’re such a good man.” “Thank you.” Alvin froze, his hands hovering awkwardly in midair as he glanced helplessly toward Jessica.
She struggled not to laugh.
Silently, she mouthed two words.
“Food truck.
Archie.” Right.
Now he remembered.
Gently easing the woman back, Alvin smiled.
“You’re Archie?” She nodded through her tears.
He turned toward the younger woman.
“And you’re Lilith?” The Latina woman embraced him just as enthusiastically, leaving bright lipstick marks on both of his cheeks.
“Yes.” “I’m Lilith.” “Thank you, Alvin.” “God bless you.” She couldn’t have been more than thirty.
She was strikingly beautiful, with the confident warmth common to many Latin American women, though the hardships of life had left faint traces of exhaustion around her eyes.
The food truck Alvin had given her had given her something she’d nearly lost.
Hope.
“If it’s alright…” She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling.
“I’d like to invite you to dinner at my home tonight.” “I want to thank you properly.” There was no mistaking the implication behind the invitation.
Behind the counter came a sharp, unmistakable snort.
Jessica.
The glass in her hand groaned under the pressure of her grip.
Alvin instinctively shivered.
He gave Lilith’s shoulder a friendly pat and gently guided her back.
“I’m already grateful enough.” He smiled warmly.
“If you really want to thank me, then make those food trucks a success.” “Work hard.” “Build a better life.” “This world can be cruel.” “But that doesn’t mean we stop hoping.” Both women were visibly moved.
They wiped away tears while thanking him again and again.
At the same table sat two Black teenage boys.
They stood, thumped their fists against their chests, then pointed toward Alvin.
The gesture said everything.
You’ve got our respect.
If you ever need us, we’re there.
Alvin crooked a finger.
“You two.” The boys hurried over eagerly.
Before either could speak, Alvin raised a hand.
“Skipping school is a serious offense at my school.” Their smiles disappeared instantly.
Only then did they remember.
The generous restaurant owner was also the terrifying principal of the neighborhood school.
Both boys lowered their heads without a word.
Judging from how quickly they surrendered, this clearly wasn’t their first experience with Alvin’s discipline.
Seeing their cooperative attitude, Alvin smiled.
“Since you’ve got enough energy to skip class…” “You can spend the next week cleaning the sidewalk outside my restaurant.” The boys immediately turned toward the door.
“Not today.” They froze.
“Every morning for the next week.” “I get up around five.” “When I come outside, I expect this sidewalk to be clean enough to sleep on.” He checked the clock.
“It’s eleven.” “If you leave now, you’ll still make it back to school in time for lunch.” The boys exchanged miserable looks.
After saying goodbye to their mother, they trudged out the door toward school.
Archie watched them leave before hugging Alvin once again.
Instead of complaining about the punishment, she sighed with relief.
“Thank you.” “You’re the only person who can keep those boys under control.” “I’m always afraid they’ll end up like their father.” “…In prison.” By the end of the sentence, she was crying again.
Alvin offered an understanding smile.
“It’s almost lunchtime.” “I’ve got work to do.” “You two sit down.” “Lunch is on me.” “I’m making steak.” The women tried to refuse.
Alvin simply waved them back to their seats before tying on his apron.
He lit all ten burners.
Ten cast-iron sizzling plates heated over the flames while he brushed each one with olive oil.
The steaks had already been marinating all morning.
As soon as the oil reached temperature, the first cuts hit the hot iron with a satisfying hiss.
After getting everything started, Alvin looked over his shoulder.
Jessica was still glaring at Lilith while muttering something under her breath that definitely wasn’t complimentary.
He flicked her lightly on the forehead.
“Ow!” “Go get Uncle Charlie.” “Tell him to come down for lunch.” “He can take a break before getting back to work.” Jessica rubbed her forehead, shot Alvin an indignant look, and hurried upstairs.
Soon the rich aroma of sizzling steak spread throughout the restaurant.
Almost on cue, customers began streaming through the door.
It happened every day.
It was as though people could smell exactly when lunch was ready.
Every meal was identical.
A thick, half-inch steak roughly the size of a man’s hand.
A serving of pasta.
One fried egg.
The first plate went to Uncle Charlie, who was quietly sitting by himself at the corner of the bar.
“Give it a try.” Alvin grinned.
“Don’t be so formal.” “Today, you’re the customer.” Lunch service at Peace Restaurant was wonderfully simple.
There was no menu.
Just one dish.
Sizzling steak.
Twenty dollars a plate.
Beer and other drinks weren’t served until evening.
Jessica hurried between the tables, placing a complimentary glass of lemonade before each guest before returning with the finished meals on sturdy pine serving trays.
Most of the lunchtime crowd had come because someone recommended the restaurant.
The neighborhood locals were usually too busy working to stop by at noon.
They preferred the evenings, when Alvin finally had time to relax, pour a beer, and chat with everyone.
Standing behind the grill, Alvin couldn’t help smiling as he listened to a table of sharply dressed young professionals.
A blond man was enthusiastically telling the others how he’d bravely ventured into Hell’s Kitchen alone before discovering this hidden gem.
“I’m telling you,” he declared dramatically between bites, “this steak is unbelievable.” He pointed toward his plate.
“It’s not just the meat.” “It’s the atmosphere.” “The aroma of the steak…” He paused for effect.
“…mixed with the scent of fear hanging over Hell’s Kitchen.” “That’s what gives it its unforgettable flavor.” Alvin knew exactly who the man was.
The truth was, the guy’s “dangerous expedition” through Hell’s Kitchen was so ridiculous it could have filled an entire comedy book.
Still…
If the story helped advertise the restaurant, Alvin wasn’t about to ruin it.