Fifteen chefs returned to the dining room.
Eight blue jackets stood to Ramsay’s right.
Seven red jackets stood to his left.
Corey faced him from the end of the red line.
“COREY!
Have you made your decision?” “Yes, Chef.” “Was it difficult?” “Not at all, Chef.” Ramsay’s brow tightened.
“Not at all?
Then this ought to be bloody interesting.
First nominee and why!” “My first nominee, for strategic reasons, is Christina.” Christina kept her eyes forward.
“Strategic?” Ramsay repeated.
“You think she’s strong.” “I do.
But she treats me like I’m some dumb blonde.
She looks at me and decides what I am before she bothers seeing what I can do.” “So you want one of your strongest cooks gone because you don’t like the way she looks at you.” “I want someone gone who underestimates me.” Ramsay stared at Corey for another second.
“Second nominee and why!” “Jen.
For personal reasons.” Jen’s head turned.
“Personal?” Ramsay said.
“Why?” “She distracts me.
She never stops talking, she gets in my space, and I can’t do my job perfectly with her in the kitchen.
We’re here for a serious prize, and I want her out.” “Perfectly?
Your team just lost!” Corey did not answer.
“One strategic, one personal.
Fuck me!
The gloves are off now.
CHRISTINA!
JEN!
Step forward!” Christina and Jen left the line.
They stopped several feet in front of their team.
Corey remained behind them.
“Christina!
Why should you stay in Hell’s Kitchen?” “Because I’m intelligent, I learn quickly, and I know I can do better than I did tonight, Chef.” Her voice tightened.
She blinked before the moisture in her eyes could fall.
“If Corey thinks I’m talking down to her, she should tell me.
I don’t make corrections because I have something personal against her.
I do it because I want the food right.
I will listen, I will improve, and I will fight for my place here.” “You’d better!
Tonight you let Sharon drag your station into the shit, and then you stopped talking!” “Yes, Chef.” “That happens again, intelligence won’t save you!” “It won’t happen again, Chef.” Ramsay turned.
“Jen!
Why should you stay?” “Chef, you don’t get to see everything that happens during prep.
I’m a beast back there.
I make sure the sauces are done, the desserts are ready, the stock is moving—” “I asked why you should stay, not for the prep inventory!” “Because I work, Chef.
I know food.
I get things done, and I can give you more than you’ve seen.
I’ve worked outside this country, I have ideas, and tonight does not show everything I can—” “JEN!
Breathe!” “I am breathing, Chef.” “Then breathe without giving me the history of Belgium!” “Yes, Chef.
Could I say one more thing?” Ramsay closed his eyes for half a second.
“Oh, fuck me!” “This isn’t the end for me.
I deserve the chance to prove that.” Ramsay opened his eyes.
“Finished?” “Yes, Chef.” “Thank God for that!” Jen pressed her lips together.
Ramsay stepped away from the pass and looked across both teams.
“Listen carefully!
This is one of the biggest prizes I have ever offered.
A quarter-million-dollar position in my restaurant!
I am not handing that job to someone I do not believe in!” His gaze moved past Christina.
Past Jen.
It stopped on the red line.
“SHARON!” Sharon flinched.
“Chef?” “GET YOUR ARSE UP HERE!” Sharon stepped out of line and approached.
“Christina, Jen—back in line!” They returned to the red team.
Christina stood on one side of Corey.
Jen took the other.
Corey’s jaw tightened.
“Sharon, two services!” Ramsay said.
“In the first one, you lost control of risotto.
Tonight you put cooked beef against raw chicken, forgot an order, and tried to send meat you knew was rare!” “Yes, Chef.” “You have shown me more precision in front of a mirror than you have with a bloody knife!
I don’t believe you can run my restaurant!” Sharon’s face remained still.
“Jacket off!
You’re leaving Hell’s Kitchen!” “Yes, Chef.” She untied the jacket, pulled it from her shoulders, and folded it once before handing it to him.
“I can cook, Chef.” “You had two services to show me!
Good night!” Sharon turned and walked through the door behind Ramsay.
Her heels remained audible after she disappeared from view.
Aurelio looked at the empty place in the red line.
Corey had named two people.
Ramsay had listened to the service.
◆ In the departure corridor, Sharon sat before a camera without her jacket.
“Chef Ramsay decided what I was before he knew me,” she said.
“He saw the makeup.
He didn’t see a chef.
I’m not changing who I am because of that.
I’ll have my own restaurant someday.” She stood when the interview ended.
Inside the dining room, her photograph burned.
◆ “COREY!” “Yes, Chef.” “I appreciate strategy.
But I have a conscience!
And in good conscience, after that pathetic performance, there was no fucking way I could keep Sharon!
Do you understand?” “Yes, Chef.” “Tomorrow is a fresh start!
Put another foot on the ladder, move forward, and improve!
All of you!” “Yes, Chef!” the red team answered.
“Get upstairs!” “Yes, Chef!” The women filed toward the stairs.
“GENTLEMEN!” “Yes, Chef!” “You finished one service!
That does not make you fucking brilliant!
Good night!” “Good night, Chef!” The blue team followed.
Aurelio let the others take the stairs.
When the last jacket disappeared above the landing, he followed.
◆ Television would place seven days between Sharon’s exit and the next episode.
The chefs received one flight of stairs.
Corey reached the common room first and crossed toward the men.
Ben raised his hand.
“That was cold.” Corey slapped her palm against his.
“It had to be done.” “Did it?” Bobby asked.
Corey turned.
“Sharon went home.” “You didn’t nominate Sharon.” “I got what I wanted.
The weak cook is gone, and the strong ones know I’m not afraid of them.” “You swung at two people,” Louross said.
“Chef Ramsay hit somebody else.” “They still heard their names.” The red team entered.
“Hell, yes, I’m still here,” Jen said.
“And you know what?
I’m glad you pulled that trick.
You woke me the fuck up.” Corey faced her.
“Good.” “Don’t say good like you did me a favor.” Christina stopped beside Jen.
“You threw me under the bus because you think I’m strong.” “I told Chef why.” “You called it strategy, then complained that I treat you like a dumb blonde.
That’s personal.” Jen pointed toward Corey.
“Then she called mine personal because I distract her from cooking.
That’s strategy.
You couldn’t even keep your own bullshit straight.” “Either way, I wanted both of you out.” “She ain’t getting rid of me,” Jen said.
“Neither are you,” Christina added.
“I’m not here to make friends.” “That’s good,” Jen said.
“You don’t have any.” “Enough,” Shayna said.
No one listened.
“If both of you hate me, I’ll get stronger,” Corey said.
“You still have to cook beside us,” Christina answered.
“Then keep up.” Vanessa rubbed both hands over her face.
“Sharon hasn’t been gone ten minutes.” “She should’ve been the nominee,” Jen said.
“And she went home,” Corey replied.
“So what are you upset about?” “You,” Christina said.
Corey looked past her.
Aurelio stood at the counter with a glass of water.
“You told Bobby you’d nominate the worst two from service,” she said.
“You still believe that?” “Yes.” “Even if someone stronger could take the job from you later?” “It’s Ramsay’s job to decide who can take it.” “Convenient answer.” “He just proved it.” Jen laughed once.
“Damn.” Corey ignored her.
“So you’d protect your biggest competition?” “No.
I’d compete with them.” “That sounds noble.” “It’s practical.
If Ramsay ignores my nominations, I’ve wasted the decision and damaged my own team.” Corey looked toward Christina and Jen.
“They were already a problem.” “Tomorrow they’re still your brigade.” “Tomorrow they can prove it.” Corey walked toward the red bedroom.
Christina followed.
Jen went after both of them.
“This is going to be quiet,” Louross said.
The bedroom door remained open.
Corey’s voice carried through it immediately.
“Then tell me to my face!” Louross looked at Aurelio.
“I was wrong.” ◆ Corey sat at the vanity and removed one earring.
Christina stopped at the foot of the nearest bed.
Jen remained beside the open door.
“If I talk down to you, say it when I do it,” Christina said.
“Don’t wait until elimination and use it as an excuse.” “You correct me constantly.” “I correct everyone when something’s wrong.” “Exactly.
You always think you know better.” “Sometimes I do.” “And there it is.” Christina exhaled sharply.
“You didn’t nominate me for a mistake I made tonight.” “I nominated you because I can.” “That’s not leadership.” “I never said it was.” Jen folded her arms.
“And what was my crime?
Talking while you were making your perfect risotto?” “Your crime is never shutting up.” “You put my name in Gordon Ramsay’s mouth.
You think I’m getting quieter now?” “No.” “Good.” Shayna pulled a pillow over her face.
“Could we hate each other after we sleep?” Vanessa asked.
“Tomorrow’s in about three hours,” Rosann said.
“Then we’d better hate efficiently,” Jen replied.
Against her will, Vanessa laughed.
The sound broke nothing.
It did lower the volume.
◆ Production did not send them straight to bed.
Corey was called downstairs for an interview.
Christina went after her.
Jen waited nearly forty minutes for her turn and used thirty-eight of them explaining what she planned to say.
The same arguments were repeated alone before cameras, sharpened by the absence of anyone who could interrupt.
In the men’s room, Bobby stood between the bunks.
“Ten minutes,” he said.
Ben dropped onto his mattress.
“For what?” “We won.
We still review.” “We won because red was worse,” Petrozza said.
“Exactly.” Bobby looked at Craig.
“Two hands on every chair from now on.” “I know.” “Good.
Matt?” “The fire won’t happen again.” “It had better not.” Matt looked toward Louross.
“Nobody needs to explain the lid again.” “Wasn’t going to,” Louross said.
“Petrozza?” “I sent food I knew was wrong.” “And?” “Next time, I tell the truth before Chef Ramsay cuts it open.” Bobby nodded toward Dominic.
“Fish?” “Three portions.
Three good.” “Keep doing that.” “Planning to.” “Ben, Louross, garnish recovered.
Navarro, you stayed on your assignment.” “Yes.” “Tomorrow we start from zero.” No one argued.
Bobby ended the meeting after eight minutes.
Aurelio noticed.
The badge had lasted one day.
The lesson had lasted longer.
◆ By the time the final interview ended, service had become yesterday without anyone receiving a night between them.
Aurelio sat at the common-room table with his notebook open.
His feet hurt.
His shoulders had tightened during the hours on garnish, and smoke from Matt’s pan remained in his hair despite the shower.
His Gourmet Cells helped with ordinary recovery.
They did not erase exhaustion or replace sleep.
He turned back to the page where he had first written every contestant’s name.
He added one line beneath Sharon’s.
Gone after the second service.
He did not cross out her name.
Petrozza entered from the interview corridor and stopped beside the table.
“You keep the old names in there?” “The names stay.” “Even after they leave?” “Especially then.” Petrozza looked at the page without trying to read the rest.
“You told me not tonight.” “I did.” “I’m still not asking.” Aurelio closed the notebook.
“Thank you.” Petrozza nodded toward the stairs.
“You coming?” “In a minute.” “No.” Aurelio looked up.
“You wait for everybody else,” Petrozza said.
“Tonight, you don’t have to.” He waited beside the table.
Aurelio rose, tucked the notebook beneath his arm, and joined him.
“Come on,” Petrozza said.
“Bed.”