Just A Day, Just An Ordinary Day… Not – Flash Fiction

“Joe, make it a double…”
Photo by Brent Gorwin on Unsplash

I’m taking a bit of flash fiction from earlier in the year and reworking it. So if you all read this one before, well I’ve changed it some.  I have this idea of the gal, G, or Gigi, or something… is a sous chef or working her way up to that, and another sous chef comes in, they meet, fall in love, bla bla bla, but  haven’t put the pieces together. I like that my world gives me inspiration. I love that the guys I work with are like brothers. Idiots, complete and total kids, I could smack all of them half the time. I write down the random conversations I’ve had with them, or points of interest because kitchen talk is not like any talk I’ve had anywhere else. I joke with the people in back that the reason we are in the back is because we couldn’t be out front. It’s funny and hard and I’m glad I can write about it. This was once based on other things but I’ve realized that I have this guy in my head for a Chef that’s like Jon Favreau from the film Chef, only thinner. Someone that’s like this giant teddy bear of a guy. I kind of want to work for him.  He seems like he would be passionate and fun. Gads, I’ve been in this world too long….*smacks forehead*

 

He wore a brimmed fisherman’s knit cap, dark and dingy hoodie, converse tennis shoes, thick frame Elvis Costello glasses, anyone could have taken him as a hipster or college student, but for the gray invading the scruffy week’s stubble and curls in the dark hair at the base of his neck. Writer, she mused. Had to be with the pen and spread paper. Or maybe one of those cool professors. She was scribbling the description down in her ever present notebook. Filled with a weird curio of curiosities from random bits of poetry, recipes, lines from a movie, song lyrics, and random ass fiction, it was a writers delight and a view of who she was as a person. Dangerous in the wrong hands.

“Or maybe he’s just doing the crossword puzzle,” Micha said over her shoulder nearly making her shriek at his stealthiness. He had slipped up behind her and glanced at her notes before his devilishly deep, rich voice crawled up her spine. 

She sighed as he came around into her line of sight and she tried to calm her racing heart that had decided to go galloping around in her chest. The damn man loved to scare her. And he was good at it.  Like a brother, he teased her mercilessly and was too good at it. Thankfully she could smack him when he was close. Unfortunately he walked by and went up to the counter to order his drink and was too far out of reach. She debated tossing her scone at him, but the blueberry delight was too delicious and she didn’t want to share.

Micha was the perfect boss. Fun to be around, a bit of a dreamer, talented, creative, pragmatic, a wild pain in the ass. Okay, maybe that last one wasn’t so great.  He was this perfect combination of soft planes and hard edges. The glasses softened his face, when he deemed to wear them. Today he was. Rimmed rectangle lenses and tapered navy blue temples. Spiked hair today. He must have been playing in gel, she noted as he slung off his leather jacket and ordered a double espresso latte.

“He’s doing the crossword,” Micha smirked as he sat down across from her with his first of many coffees of the day.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Smartass.”

“Better than a dumbass,” they both finished together, and while he chuckled, she rolled her eyes.

“So, plans today?”

“You know. Just an ordinary day. Scrub out the walk-in and organize the freezers.”

She groaned.

“What? You knew it was coming.”

“That is not ordinary!” she wailed. “I seriously do not have enough caffeine in my system for this.” She raised her hand to signal the young guy at the counter. ‘Joe, better make me another. It’s gonna be a long day.” She flipped the page in her notebook and started making lists.

“We could just wing it,” he supplied casually.

She arched her left brow at him and tilted her head down looking over the rim of her glasses.

“You are way too chipper about this. What should I be afraid of?” her voice was filled suspicion.

“The produce order comes in at noon and the beef order at 3, and I kind of want this all done before then…”

“Oh god. And?”

“Emily and I have reservations, so I will be gone by 5…..”

“I hate you.”

“I know. Want to get started?” He grinned.

She could smack him….

So, enjoy. This was a fun bit to write and fits into a cooking novel I am plotting.

Kate

Just a Dream – Flash Fiction – Character Profiles

Intro: Gosh, I love being a writer. There I was sitting at a coffeeshop in Ashland, Bloomsbury Books, to be exact. I was finally eating something that was staying down and calming down after feeling lousy most of the day. I sat there with my cafe au lait watching the goings on and decided to do a character sketch/profile which morphed to a bit of flash fiction. Note on subject. It is modeled after aspects of my life and people in my life and even some emotions I’ve felt, but no one will know which ones are true or made up. The prerogative of a writer. We embellish. So if anyone reads this, IE boss or friends, remember. I am first and foremost a writer and dreamer.  Everything can and will be used in my writing.

 

He wore a brimmed fisherman’s knit cap, dark and dingy hoodie, converse tennis shoes, thick frame Elvis Costello glasses, anyone could have taken him as a hipster or college student, but for the gray invading the scruffy week’s stubble and curls in the dark hair at the base of his neck. Writer, she mused. Had to be with the pen and spread paper. Or maybe one of those cool professors.

“Or maybe he’s just doing the crossword puzzle,” Micha said over her shoulder nearly making her shriek at his stealthiness. He had slipped up behind her and glanced at her notes before his devilishly deep, rich voice crawled up her spine. 

She sighed as he came around into her line of sight and she tried to calm her racing heart that had decided to go galloping around in her chest. The damn man loved to scare her. And he was good at it. And it really was a shame that he was taken. As much as he killed her sanity daily, was like an older brother and all, that didn’t mean she didn’t have eyes.

Micha was edgy. She was not. Not even close. He was this perfect combination of soft planes and hard edges. The glasses softened his face, when he deemed to wear them. Today he was. Rimless rectangle lenses and tapered black temples. Spiked hair. He must have been playing in gel, she noted as he slung off his leather jacket and ordered a double espresso latte.

Hmm, diamond studs in his ears; must be going out with his wife later. Lucky girl.

She was only slightly jealous. They would have never worked as a couple, being too alike in moods, vices, interests, and even irritations. Plus, she loved Elle, his wife of 6 years. Two point five kids, a dog, house….yeah he had it all. No, she didn’t want him, she was more jealous of the dream. Oh sure, he was nice to look at, quite nice, actually, and one of her best friends. She was oh so good, she wasn’t dead. He was easy on the eyes.

“He’s doing the crossword,” Micha smirked as he sat down across from her with his first of many coffees of the day.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Smartass.”

“Better than a dumbass,” they both finished together, and while he chuckled, she rolled her eyes.

“So, plans today?”

“Scrub out the walk-in and organize the freezers.”

She groaned.

“What? You knew it was coming.”

“I seriously do not have enough caffeine in my system for this.” She raised her hand to signal the young guy at the counter. ‘Joe, better make me another. It’s gonna be a long day.” She pulled out her notebook and started making lists.

“We could just wing it,” he supplied casually.

She arched her left brow at him and tilted her head down looking over the rim of her glasses.

“You are way too chipper about this. What should I be afraid of?” her voice was filled suspicion.

“The produce order comes in at noon and the beef order at 3, and I kind of want this all done before then…”

“Oh god. And?”

“Elle and I are going to the cabaret at 5.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. Want to get started?” He grinned.

She could smack him….

So, enjoy. This was a fun bit to write and fits into a cooking novel I am plotting.

Kate

Who Is Luke Greyson?

And yes, my Luke wears this outfit. How could he not?

This is a character profile I did a year ago after seeing this gorgeous picture of ‘Eric Northman’.  I just had to create a character for something of mine and I honestly have fallen in love with Luke Greyson, even though  he’s not even fully written. Nor is his story.  But someday.  Who knows.  At least I know his heroine.  Though her story isn’t really written either.  Least she has a name.  Regina Black.

So here is his profile.

Who is Luke Greyson?

Luke Greyson, age thrity-five is the son of Peter and Marjory Greyson of New York.  Grandson to Franklin Greyson, a small hotel owner.  Luke, an only child, was raised going to private schools and living a somewhat pampered life.  Went to New York University, majoring in business and hotel management as he was expected to take over the family business of running hotels.  His grandfather passed away while he was in college, so Luke was left one of the five hotels Franklin owned along the Atlantic coast.  The rest passed on to Peter who was already managing three of them.

His mother, Marjory, passed away when Luke was 30, and it crushed him as they were close.  Luke was never close with his father, who  was always focused on his hotels.  Luke needed a change and a new start, so he moved west and purchased the small hotel in Ashland.  He has been improving the hotel for the past four years.

His employees respect and admire him as he is an honest, hardworking boss.

Luke can be a bit selfish at times since he was an only child.  He thinks things should go his way and gets impatient and annoyed when they don’t.  Sometimes he tries to manage people  getting them to doing what he wants, but he’s never cruel about it.  He just likes things his way.

In his spare time he enjoys good food and wine.  He has branched out and is part ownership in a small vineyard and winery in the hills outside Ashland.  He enjoys the plays that are at the OSF(Oregon Shakespeare Festival).  He has a taste for jazz music, but enjoys all forms, though he’s not one to have it playing in his office even when he’s on his own.

His tastes in books run to murder mystery, but on the occasion he does read some biographies and non fiction type books.  He always reads the Wall Street Journal at 4 in the afternoon when sits in the hotel restaurant for his afternoon cup of coffee.

 His quarters are in one of the two suites of the hotel, on the top floor.  A suite that is stylish and classically decorated in muted shades of tans and browns.  The one difference is the large flat screen television over the gas fire place.  He enjoys watching tennis, golf, and the occasional basketball game.  Though he’s not huge on sports.

He works out in the private gym of the hotel.  He also runs occasionally through Lithia Park.  He’s not bulky, but he does have a nice physique.  Defined muscles and form.  He’s in good shape.

He appreciates a good woman, and has dated some throughout the years, but due to the schedule of running a hotel doesn’t leave much time for going out.  And he hates golddigging women, which many are when they find out he owns  a hotel.   Women find him attractive and occasionally he finds himself with women throwing themselves at him.  He likes a strong woman, but not one that isn’t a lady.  His ideal is someone like his mother who managed the house and sometimes the hotels with an ease that spoke of her strength while never sacrificing her femininity.  Smart feminine women intrigue him.  He appreciates a woman in a nice pair of heels.

He drives a BMW convertible in slate blue.  He also owns an Audi A8.

His business plans are to possibly purchase another hotel in a smaller area like Ashland, but he’s still not sure.  He is enjoying being on his own and running the small hotel and getting to know his guests that return.

 

So, you all think this is something good?  Well, I’m partial to it.

Signing off

~Kate