Brisket, Pork Belly, Ribeye

Anna cradled her head in her palms and l let out a a deep breath she felt she had been holding all day. She could feel the stress slowly eroding that had built up during the dinner rush. I’m so over this. She thought. This job is killing me.

She released her hands from her face to see the other kitchen staff wiping down stations and preparing the kitchen for the next day. She sluggishly rolled up her splattered sleeves and joined them, brushing and scrubbing and washing. Anna winced when she heard a bludgeoning laugh from the corner of the kitchen. She turned to see the head chef throwing back red wine and laughing with this two lackeys. His amuse bouches as the rest of the staff called them. In her two and half years in this kitchen, Anna hadn’t witnessed them lift a finger for grunt work. They always buzzed around the head chef like his pets. The three men caught her staring and offered a vulgar proposition, another way for her to busy her hands if she didn’t get back to cleaning. Anna rolled her eyes and returned to her task. As usual, she smothered her emotions like an oil fire and worked faster to be on her way home. Just put up with it a little longer. She told herself.

Anna basked in the cool early morning air walking out of the restaurant, bidding her likable coworkers a good night. She flung herself into her paint chipped sedan, lit a cigarette and refenced her little black notebook she kept with her. Her notebook was filled with some lofty dreams. Potential food truck names if she every worked up the courage to leave fine dinning in pursuit of being her own boss. Ambitious recipe and cocktail pairings if she could open her own steakhouse. Destinations she wanted to travel to study the local cuisine. But her greatest desire was on the last page of the notebook, separated from the rest by several blank pages that had yet to be filled in. She wrote it in the very back as a means to signal it’s importance. Best for last, as they say. Some day. She thought.

She turned her car on and pulled out of the lot, headed for home. Her dog greeted her when she opened the door of her little Denver apartment. His tail wagging, cold nose sniffing her shoes. She smiled and pet him before going into the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge. She twisted off the cap and took a drink, studying her many magnets and To-Do's on the fridge door. Her eyes landed on a lotto ticket she purchased last week. I wonder. She thought, pulling her phone out of her pocket to check the numbers. The jackpot was up to 500 million and she could think of so much to do with the money. Her heart beat started to quicken as she matched a one number, two numbers, then a handful. No way. She thought. Double checking her numbers, she hadn't won the jackpot, but she did win big. $20,000?! She took another drink of her beer and started grinning. I could totally do it with $20,000. She plopped on the couch with her little black notebook and started planning. An apron, some oven safe gloves, new chef’s knives, wine. Where should she begin? Where should she settle down?

A few months later, after Anna had collected her winnings, done some carefully planned shopping and got down to business, she felt like she could breath for the first time in months. She boarded her 7:00am flight, her dog safety stored in the cargo area and her life packed up in a suitcase and carryon bag. She ordered a celebratory Bloody Mary from the flight attendant and settled in to her first class seat (This would probably be her only opportunity in life to fly like this). After take off Anna pulled out her little black notebook and flipped to the back page. To anyone else, it would look like a shopping list or different courses in a dinner.

Brisket

Pork Belly

Ribeye

To her, it meant so much more.

Brisket - aka Benjamin. One of the amuse booches. He had locked her in.

Pork Belly - aka Peter. The other head chef's pet. He had held her down.

Ribeye - aka Chef Roberts. He had forced himself on her. Then let the others have a turn. Then told her they'd kill her if she told anyone.

She deliberately crossed each off her last page with satisfaction. She had patiently waited for months. She intentionally stayed and worked with her attackers day after day to fuel her rage. She didn't want to chicken out. The night it happened, they had been drunk. She wondered how much of it they even remembered. Anna remembered every second and she knew that the justice system would not find her justice. Maybe a few years in prison and some probation.

The news played on the headrest in front of her. The three men's faces flashes across the screen.

"Terrible what happened to those men." The flight attendant said, pouring Anna another Bloody. "Did you hear? They were found this morning in the walk-in of their restaurant, swanky place downtown, anyway, found stabbed to death." She handed Anna the drink. "Must of been a big guy to do that to three men. "

"Maybe it was one at a time." Anna offered. "Those commercial grade walk-ins are insulated so well the other two wouldn't be able to hear the screams. "

"You work in food?" The flight attendant asked cheerfully. "What do you do?"

Anna smiled up at the flight attendant. "I'm a butcher." She said.

"Oh! Is that why you're headed to Argentina? I've heard it's the beef capitol of the world."

Anna nodded. "Looking for a fresh start."